The Reason I Own A TV

This may come as a surprise coming from a young 20-something who majored in film, radio, and tv, but I have thought (sometimes more serious than others) about getting rid of my tv. And if you were that fly on my way, it would be even more surprising, since then you could contend that I do, in fact, have my tv on at least 2 hours each day. (Now whether I am concertedly watching the tv is another matter.) However, there is, in fact, only a small percentage of television shows out there worth watching or even worth previewing. For all the money I spend each month on cable television, I've wondered if purchasing season dvds after their release would be more cost effective or even time-effective. Who knows?

But then, there are those shows very much worth watching, which won't later come out on dvd, that turn my tables towards keeping my tv. Oxygen's latest series called "Who Cares About Girls?" was one of those segments. (Thank God, really, for any special that can refrain, for one hour, from showing commercials.) The shows and special features can be found on the Oxygen website.

Lisa Ling (gotta love this 33 year-old gem of a journalist) carries viewers threw a series of stories about young women in various parts of the world whose vulnerability is being taken advantage of. National Geographic went on tour with Ling in putting together these documentaries. I highly recommend that you take some time out to listen to these girls' stories by visiting the website, and also learn more about how you can help in the intervention to give these girls back their childhood.

Bang, Hmmm, Awww!!!

How many cops does it take to clean up a bike accident in Chicago? The answer: 10! Too many. I knew, at some point, I was going to witness someone get hit walking or on a bike, what with the way people in the city think they are invisible and that cars will stop for them. One teenage boy and his girlfriend, learned that lesson the hard way today on my corner. Everyone was fiiiiiine. Don't worry. I asked one fellow bystander, "was the kid conscious?" He said, "Oh yeah. Look at his bike, man. He milken' it. That's all. Milken' it." :shrug: His bike was still standing up, not a scratch. Now kids, look both ways before crossing the street, even if you are on your bike (especially if you are on your bike!) and even when you have your girlfriend standing on the back. She can't save you against a car flying at 40 miles as hour.

But, the more appauling thing was the police. They were coming out of the woodwork. Actually, no. There are tons of police in my neighborhood. But, there still were far too many. Pretty soon the University of Chicago police were showing up. Come one, now! The university is like 2 miles away. I knnooooww they didn't call you. Keep the coffee break at Dunkin.

...oh, I should mention. Because all things in Chicago are fair, who got slapped with the ticket? That's right. The driver, even though he had a bright green light, he got slapped. Pedestrians always have the right of way.

***
In other news, my trainer from the "Y" stopped me today on the street as I was taking a walk. (I say "my trainer", but I think I had all of maybe 3, no 2, no 1 session with him this winter.) He asked me if I still worked out there. And when I looked at him blankly and replied, "why? are you still there?" He replied, "No, um, I started my own business" and hands me his card.

Exhibit A:

Anyways...
***
Last time I lived in the city, I don't remember there being so many cats. They are everywhere! They pop out at you when you are coming home at 2 a.m. You're aleady spooked and then, this thing comes flying out at you hissing. Cats pop out of the dumpster when you open the lid to put your trash in. They whine at your door. Jump from the trees onto your back rail right as you walk by. Can you tell I've never been a cat lover?

Well, one of the local cats has taken up shop outside my door of the last couple days. She, I think, I don't know. She looks like a she...is sick and truly, is dying. There is no question. Trust me. She's got attitude, though. However, sick she may be, she will look straight into my eyes with her dagger green eyes (I've always wanted green eyes, and now maybe it's because she is sick, but I am recanting my previous desire. These eyes are scary.) and hiss louder than I thought possible and then screech this whine that is a far cry (ha!) from the I-want-a-pet cry.

Nonetheless (and now maybe this says more about me than the cat), I am endeared by her. She has character and 'tude that's for sure. And I "feel her". If I was that sick, I would want to be pet, but I would be a b**tch to be around. And because I know that's me, I sometimes wonder if I am supposed to push past the angered facade and like...feed her some warm milk. (That's what you suppose to feed them, isn't it?) The person that would push through my crankiness would win my heart and they would end up being the only one I wasn't bitchy too. Do you think cat pyschology is similar to human pyschology? I've already thought through this too much. Nevermind.

...And There Goes Another One!

If you are going to "loose" a friend to marriage, there is nothing

better than loosing them to a great man!

Rachel, glad you finally came to your senses that this man is a keeper. And, I think that I can speak for a few of us 2E girls, "we told you so."

Matt, if you ever...that's right. We will unite! :-) No really, I'm so pleased Rach has a man no one has to worry won't treat her right. You're so good to her and for her.

I look forward to a FABULOUS wedding next summer!

This one promises to be a memorable one.

...Like I Was Saying

So, now I wish I had blogged over the weekend when I was at the pageant. My eyes were opened to a whole new culture I knew existed, but never thought I'd have the opportunity to step into. Now, that I am a few days removed from the event...I am even more overwhelmed with trying to explain all the fanfare.

So, let's just say for me...it was a bizarre event. What I walked away cherishing most was the time spent with a great friend who "gets me" and totally "sees" me, who I don't have to explain myself to, and who I can be myself around. As well as, being around a family who, like the rest of us, gets along some of the time, but whose actions of tireless shopping, cheering on, and waiting around for their sister, shows how very present they are for each other.






The family Here she comes!







She was a winner to us! Don't let Heather fool you for a minute -
she IS in a relationship. (Val :wink:)

Likely The Closest I'll Get

This weekend I went on the Hass Family Vacation (my second family of which I have a few). I'm telling you, few of us having family vacations as crazy and fun-filled as they do...

Quick background: Heather and I went to college together where we became fast friends, not only living together but, throughout the years, traveling together. Inevitably, I met Heather's family and a mutual adoption took place, whereby they treated me like their fourth daughter and I now treat them like sisters, aunt and uncle. So, when the family made their trek to Muskegon to support Linaya, Heather's younger sister by only a couple years, in her run for Ms. Michigan, they remembered to bring a big troupe of supporters. I didn't get left behind...nor would I have let that happen.

In a later e-mail, when I get more pictures, I will spend time describing the crazy affair of beauty pagents and all that I learned and experienced. But, for the meantime, a foreshadowing...

I couldn't have been prouder of Linaya if she had been my "real" sister. This girl (correction: woman) is, if I could crudely say, "the shit"; this gal has so much going for her and she deserved every award that night. Her involvement with the Michigan crown, allowed me the opportunity to get closer than I probably ever will with the red carpet.

Thank you Linaya and the whole Hass family for a great weekend!


The contestants showcase their evening wear.

Hass sisters come out to support their sister. These passes got

us behind the scenes with our celebrity all weekend.

Here she comes...down the red carpet. Her executive director by her side.

Strange

Every day has its oddities, but some days seem to have more than others.

Today on my lunch break, I strolled into Hyde Park to shop at a few of the ethnic boutiques in hopes of finding a small gift for a friend's birthday. I had heard about this place, What The Traveler Saw, and while the reviews I'd been given gave it 5 stars, I was more impressed with the cleverness of the shop's name than with the items inside the shop. The goods were scant, half were lubricant gels and kama sutra books and the other half were elegant, yet highly overpriced jewelry. (Although, on second thought, this store may be a perfect find for men. Purchasing the later may get you the former.) Needless to say, I left disappointed.

Heading to my car, I spotted an African shop. I possibly should have thought twice when I got to the door and read the sign. "Knock first". I knocked...waited...and then, tried the door. Locked. Seconds later a short, rather stuppy African women leisurely makes her way to the door. Unlocks it with a "Good afternoon". Lets me in and locks it behind me. Hmmm...The store is filled floor to ceiling with assorted, un-priced goods from places across Africa, Jamaica, African-Americana. A few moments after my arrival, this shopkeeper, dressed from head to toe in traditional African garb, begins lighting incense across the store...at every level. Some places at my feet, others at shoulder level, just above the cash register (you would have thought the register was on fire had you not known better). And when the lighting of the incense sticks was complete she turns on, to full volume, one of the afamed civil rights speech of Dr. King. About every 30 seconds, she mutters in affirmation, "Yes!"

The shop items ranged in their condition. Some were still in there plastic package, same as they came from across the ocean. While still others, with scratches or missing pieces, looked like they had been rescued from the garbage or bought with pocket change at a garage sale. When I inquired about pricing, I always recieved an interesting answer, "Ah, yes, normally $20, but for you, today, I give it for $16." Or for the knock-off Coach purse, "Ah, yes, $65, but for you today, I give it for $55. You know, I paid $165 for it." She, then, looks to me for assurance that she is telling the truth. Of course, I don't buy it (literally or figuratively), but at her insistent glare tell her I believe her.

In the end, at the counter, ready to purchase my few goods, I notice two things simultaneously. One is a big, black circular pin on her chest which reads, "We need a miracle today, Jesus!" written in white lettering. And the second, is the unlikelihood of a credit machine, along with signs stating she does not take checks. I ask, "You only accept cash?" She replies, "Ah yes, my credit machine is to arrive tomorrow." The cynic in me wonders how many days "tomorrow" has been the answer. But, rather, agree to come back later with cash.

She ushers me out of the door with a "Good Day"and locks the door behind me.

Early this evening, I walked about a mile to one of the great coffee shops in Bronzeville, aptly named the Bronzeville Coffee Shop. I walked there because I'd been told by the shop owner this winter that they have a great deck in the back, which they'd open when the weather got nice. I packed my bags with books and headed out.

Sure enough, they had a back deck. It was a far cry from shabby. The deck was freshly built, you could almost smell the new wood. A fountain trickled off to the left. New furniture and umbrellas covered the remaining space. I snuggled in for a couple hours with my books, espresso shake, and cell phone (for good keeping). Admittedly, I listened in to the various business dealings taking shape around me. (My family has always questioned whether or not I've missed my true calling as a detective, for I can eavesdrop with the best of them.)

The stange part, however, came as I was leaving the shop. I walked in the main shop area. Dropped the chair pillow on the couch I'd found it on. Just then, a large, clean-shaven black man (okay, I was the only white person in the place [and a woman at that!], but don't stare too much!) grabs my hand and says, "Yes, I will wash your feet. Please let me." Thinking I'd missed the joke, I asked "Excuse me? I'm confused." I looked to barista, but he was only smiling and looking on. "Yes, I will wash your feet. Let me. And tell you that you are single." I did that girly, embarrassed laugh. And he looks at his barista friend as says, "She doesn't think it's funny. She probably does have a boyfriend. I should go now." He walks away. The barista rolls his eyes and clearly is trying to think of a comment to explain or patch up his friend's action, but instead fumbles and watches me leaves too.

Strange.

I then get a phone call from a friend asking me to come out dancing tonight because another friend of ours has a horoscope reading stating that she is going to meet "the one" tonight on the dance floor. I suggest drinks or a lower-key night at a comedy club. But, he insists that the horoscope said the meeting would happen on the dance floor and that we must be there to watch it all unfold.

The dance floor it is, then.

Awkward

Deciding what thing to write in a blog entry is always a bit difficult, awkward endeavor. Personally, I do this weird swing between gloating and/or informing the whole world wide web community about my schedule and habits (as if they/you care) ...and coming across as hyper-spiritual. Neither, of course, is how I'd like to be perceived. Mysterious, on the one hand, is how I'd rather be perceived and humble, in my task to grasps the love and lessons of the Lord, is the other. At the end of a long day, an intellectual, controversial, or a profoundly insightful entry is far from appealing to embark upon.

So, today I swing to left (or is it right?) and am going to add an entry from one of my favorite books, which incidentally I have "finished" but keep picking up and re-reading. It is "Hinds Feet on High Places" and I think I quoted it just like five entries ago. It's that good. :wink:

"I think I have come to understand the lesson which the Lord brought me back to Switzerland [Bronzeville] to learn in a special way. It concerns the great readjustment which I hope and believe is being made in me as he helps me to understand at last the reason why we are born into this fallen world and are entrusted with earthly mortal life. It is that we may learn, in a way which perhaps we could not do in heaven, how to abandon ourselves to loving God, who imagines and creates only the highest possible goodness.

In heaven everyone and everything is lovable, but as the Lord Jesus said, 'If ye love them which love you, what reward have ye?' (Matt. 5:46). In heaven everyone loves everyone else, and in hell no one loves anyone. But on earth we are in the perfect environment for learning how to love as God loves: to abandon ourselves to loving the apparently unlovely people who remind us that in many ways we are still very unlovely ourselves!"

A humble Amen.

Through the eyes of a child

My supervisor and I had put the idea of a summer community open house on the table months ago. Well, the idea was made tangible this weekend. My organization threw this community open house as a way to debut our newly renovated facility, officially explain to our neighborhood what we actually seek to accomplish, and to host our summer camp sign up. Although the day's expenses were graciously underwritten, a last minute change of plans meant I, personally, had 24 hours to prepare food for 250 people. Quickly assessing this was too large of a task to handle alone, I called my friend, Stephanie, with a politely worded S.O.S. request. And because she truly is a comrade, she dropped her day's plans to help me shop, make many decisions, cut and wash food, and so forth. Steph, thanks in large part to you, the food looked great.

Somewhere in the craziness of the morning, I managed to remember that we needed pictures. (Fortunately, several others remembered too. It seems, with our events, we either have no pictures or tons of pictures. Hmmm.) Overwhelmed that yet another task got added to my list of things to do, I handed off my camera to a 14 year old girl, who had just come in to sign up for camp and didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. I gave her license to take whatever pictures she wanted. When I finally asked for my camera back, she sheepishly replied, "Oh, um, make sure to erase the last one. It's the worst one I took. "

Exhibit A:

I exclaimed that surely I would not.

Needless to say, handing off my camera was a wise decision and I have many candid pictures of the day.

keep a look out

Before it even occurred, many warned me I would have a love-hate relationship with living alone. And while, I still hold the very same position I did months ago, which is that I would (will) be "just fine" and that there were (are) signs my solo-living is a season ordained by Him, others positions have, admittedly, gained clout. Previous to learning I'd have a roommate come October/November, the love-hate relationship manifested only its hateful side. However, with a "light" at the end of the tunnel, the last few weeks have envoked those love feelings.

That said, I still find myself hating living alone now and again, and the again happens unexpectedly. Like, this morning. I can't say why, because I do not know. But, this morning I loathed the fact that I live alone. While I can reprimand myself with some kind of holy anger over being ungrateful and unthankful for my many blessings - including a thriving social life - there are times when the self-reprimanding is just silly, because I don't really believe myself. So, despite the fact I had a busy day of meetings and errands, I spent the moments when I was (in loneliness) brushing my teeth or (in loneliness) unloading my groceries, trying to find somebody, anybody to blame for my situation.

And when I couldn't find anyone to blame, I chose to dwell on the unnaturalness, the "wrongness", of living alone, lamenting that no one on this earth should have to experience it (except, of course, if they see things contrary to myself). Thoughts like, "Lord, this would be a good time, if any, to bring that 'Adam' into my life. I do have the time now," kept coming to mind. Then, came the mental male bashing. (Which every male should know is really a desperate cry for attention.)

Fast-forward...a little food, a good conversation, and a nap later, I have forgotten about my morning lament. It's amazing how quickly these things happen. I made a late-night grocery run to my new, favoriate hispanic market. With my cart loaded high with a month's worth of groceries and supplies for work, I push my way out of the store. Arrive at my car and pop the trunk, when I hear an accented, older male voice calling out to me, "my lady, my lady." I do the first thing every women does when she hears this, thinks it must be a call for another lady in the parking lot. I turned to look and found this short, older, hispanic, grandfather-type running across the lot toward me. My grocery bagger! with flowers in his arms. Big lillies. At my car and out of breath, he says, "My lady, these are for you" and extends out lillies for my taking.

Someone out there knows and sees, bringing us surprising gifts at our places of greatest, felt need just when we are apt to think we are all alone.

All Things Summer....

I know it's only mid-weekend, but since I am perpetually challenged to live in the present and not the past or future, this is a particularly apt time for me to write about my weekend. This weekend is (exactly) all things summer - summer in Chicago, that is. Wedding, Beach, Reading, Sun (mixed with rain), Party, Church, Brunch, Friends, Random Drives. This list has been (or will be) my weekend and likely repeat itself for the next 3 months. I wish it could repeat itself all year, but I suppose that might be asking a bit much.

Add in, of course, visits from friends (this is one of the great reasons I love living in a metropolitan center). While people may simply be coming to experience the rush of bustling city life, they play it off well that they are coming to see me. Beggars can't be choosers. And what you don't know can't hurt you. So, I choose to remain oblivious to the degree to which their visit is about me or about a Chicago vacation. In the meantime, as I await their arrival, the romantic in me loves skeming grand, low-cost adventures I can unravel once they arrive.

And, yes, the summer wouldn't be complete without the scheduled vacations thrown in the mix. I will, of course, regret spending the money on these vacation flights in 6 months when the dreariness of Chicago winter is back and I want nothing more than to have money - money to spend on an escape. But, that's 6 months from now, and I prefer to carry out a more Epicurean lifestyle.

I hope you too are livin' it up this summer.