I found this in my drafts, and i said to myself, "self, why you no post this a long time ago?" And then I remembered that I had been advised not to... I don't see why I shouldn't have, I'm just asking a question, which is something I'm allowed to do. And here it goes: I've spent days thinking about how I could phrase this topic without either being offensive or sounding like pretentious. Friends, I love you all. Don't think I'm picking on any of you; I'm most definitely preaching to the choir. So... here goes nothin!
I notice that a popular theme amongst the majority of my friends is proclaiming God's goodness or how providential He is when they get something they really wanted. Excuse me, but there is something missing in that phrase/ thought/ action, right?
I know that there are many of my friends that will go, "Clara, you're totally taking this out of context. Why so literal?". I don't really believe that I am taking anything out of context. How often do you see or notice God working in the crappiest of situations? How often do we give Him the glory when we have the flu, can't study for a test, have a child that is sick, or whatever your crappiest situation is? Seriously. Ask that question... daily. I know for a fact that I struggle with this more often than I'd like to admit.
I saw a friend tweet that they were "thankful for the Lord's providence..." because they got something they wanted; which is now something they are not happy with (job... shockerrrr). I'm not getting on to them, I'm just now aware of how little we thank God for EVERYTHING. Not just the things we want. What if they hadn't gotten that job? I hate to think how I would have responded. Actually, I know how I would have responded, and that is heart breaking for me to think about. This whole post might be full of questions and no answers and that's okay to me. I don't believe I'm supposed to have answers. I believe I'm supposed to question and become aware of who I am, what I say, and what I do. Aren't the most annoying things you see in others the things that bother you most about yourself? Well, I'm bothered. *sound the alarm* I plan on taking action.
What bothers you?
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Minerva and Gottfried
For my 22nd birthday, my mother surprised me with the most hilarious and ridiculous present I’ve ever received in my life. Here’s what happened:
Friday the 13th, the day of my birth 22 years prior, I should have known something weird would come from being born on this day (like my liiiiife), my mother and I took the day to do our favorite things, book and clothing shopping. We spent the majority of the day looking at stuff for Europe, mom and dad were leaving in February for a trip, and then did a little clothing shopping for moi. After the day was over, mom had a few more errands to run so I went home and got ready for dinner for that evening.
All dolled up in my little jumper, so what if I’m 22, I can still rock a jumper, I was waiting on mom to come back to the house and get me for dinner. She comes in and calls my name. I walked to the kitchen where she was and she stood at the door with this very large cardboard box. She had “that” look on her face. I stood there looking at her and said,
“mom? What’s in the box?”
“it’s your present!”
“I thought the clothing and stuff were my presents this year?”
“no, I got you one more…”
Dun, dun, duuuunnnnn…
As she starts pulling things out of the box, I start to become a little concerned. Rocks? A bamboo stalk? Is that a display box?!
The last thing she whips out is a clear plastic box, like ones used for storage, and a bag inside. I’m standing there and I know I can feel my heart sinking. I. Am. Terrified.
Small back story: my mother is one of the most thoughtful people in the world. I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated it until close to recently. And even now I fail at seeing how precious she really is.
Thoughtfulness: when I lived in auburn, I had a pet fish, 3 really, but 2 died from ick. I barely mourned over them because they weren’t with me very long. However, I had this other fish, Thaddeus, who was a precious little tiger barb. I felt like it was appropriate, auburn tigers, tiger fish… anyway, I had Thaddeus and he was so cute. He would swim like crazy whenever my roommate or I entered the room. I think we watched Finding Nemo one night and he must have been paying attention because when I cleaned out his bowl later that week, he jumped down the drain. Freaking out, I call my mother and ask her, through tears, what I should do. She says, and I quote, “just get him out with a fork.” Me: (sob, sob, sob…) “YOU ARE EVIL!!”
All that to say, Thaddeus died; he found out only drains near the ocean lead to the ocean. All the other ones lead to sewage systems or to the nasty, evil duck infested pond back behind my house.
*Back story over*
Mom pulls out the little bag and two creatures are floating around in it.
“mom…? What the heck is that?”
“it’s frogs!”
“…like from our back yard?” we had an over population of those little tree frogs that would reign over our back porch at night; it was disgusting, but my mom thought they were adorable.
“no, clara! They’re African water frogs!!”
Puzzled look: “ohhh, naturally.”
“you love frogs.”
“no, mom. You love frogs. I love fish.”
I start laughing because I can literally not believe this is happening. Tears are pouring down my face, I don’t think my mother feels that this is any laughing matter and is bemused as to why I find humor in this at all.
“clara, you said you wanted fish, but I saw these at brookstone and thought, ‘she’s quirky. She’d probably love these.’”
Insert me falling to the floor, in a heap, still crying from laughing.
The rest of the night followed with me at dinner, and after a margarita, still laughing with tears, talking to my sisters asking why they allowed her do this, and hanging out with a friend later still crying from laughter.
The joke’s on me. They’re still alive, and one of my friends recently looked up the life expectancy for those specific frogs: as long as 20 years. Blessed little Minerva and Gottfried, the best/worst and weirdest present I’ve ever received in my life.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
taking a stand
i have a friend, danny, who shared with me this newspaper he started in high school. 1) i was crazy impressed with his ability to hide the fact that he was the editor for so long, and 2) the writing, though spotty with the grammar, was so passionate and poised that i couldn't help but be impressed by those kid's skillz (it deserves a "z" because it was awesome) (i guess you had to be there) (i really love parentheses) (they're so exclusive) (wanna be in my parentheses club? too bad sucka!!) (parentheses are meeeean).
after reading those wonderful stories, which most of them took place right after the columbine tragedy and the thoughts were SPOT ON, i was amazed at how well people write when they're passionate about something. i like being passionate. it's something i'm very fond of and something i'm a little too good at. when i discover something i love, i defend it to the death. so here i am, being challenged to be passionate. i thought about turning this into a "I-HATE-CLOGS-WITH-A-BURNING-PASSION-OF-FIRE-AND-BRIMSTONE-THEY-MUST-DIE-DIE-DIE". and while i do believe this, i want to passionately describe how much i love the written word.
i'm not very good at expressing myself through spoken word. i internalize; and i don't think i convey my heart well in written words, but i believe in the power of the written word. those words are forever there. they mean more because you, the individual with the desire to share, took the time not only to say, but to write down the feelings that couldn't simply just be said and then paraphrased later on in life for fear of losing their meaning and power, but wanted what you felt to be remembered in the form you intended it to be in. all that said, i love letters. i also love love-letters. passion in it's most pure and blinded form could not be more precious. blinded because everyone knows that what you feel for someone, not everyone feels that way, but you see that individual in a way that no one else does. people, write down your love. when you're angry, re-read those words and remember how much beauty there is in unconditional love. our society is insanely conditional. we typically do not approve of 2nd chances, but, oh, how many 2nd chances we've been given!
i love correspondence. i have a few friends that i write to, and if you've ever done this, there are hidden parts of the soul that are betrayed by the hand and left for the recipient to decipher. reading between the lines, if you will, which you will because you have no choice but to let me write what i think. sometimes i feel like letters allow you toss a burden aside for a few days so you can breathe and gather your thoughts. it's a great form of therapy, too. and it only costs $.44; claranomical. boom.
danny, you've made me feel passionate again. passionate about sharing things i love and treasure. challenge of the week, write a friend. mail is fun to write and SO fun to receive. it's special. make someone feel special this week. you'll be surprised how your letter will impact that person's day. unless it's hate mail. i guess it's still impacting, but really? how about you not.
here's something else i love:
baby boy turned 1 this past week. little ball of joy. when i finish his birthday present, i'm totally showing them off. (hint: they're tiny TOMS) (eeeeeee!!!!) (maybe parentheses aren't so bad...?)
after reading those wonderful stories, which most of them took place right after the columbine tragedy and the thoughts were SPOT ON, i was amazed at how well people write when they're passionate about something. i like being passionate. it's something i'm very fond of and something i'm a little too good at. when i discover something i love, i defend it to the death. so here i am, being challenged to be passionate. i thought about turning this into a "I-HATE-CLOGS-WITH-A-BURNING-PASSION-OF-FIRE-AND-BRIMSTONE-THEY-MUST-DIE-DIE-DIE". and while i do believe this, i want to passionately describe how much i love the written word.
i'm not very good at expressing myself through spoken word. i internalize; and i don't think i convey my heart well in written words, but i believe in the power of the written word. those words are forever there. they mean more because you, the individual with the desire to share, took the time not only to say, but to write down the feelings that couldn't simply just be said and then paraphrased later on in life for fear of losing their meaning and power, but wanted what you felt to be remembered in the form you intended it to be in. all that said, i love letters. i also love love-letters. passion in it's most pure and blinded form could not be more precious. blinded because everyone knows that what you feel for someone, not everyone feels that way, but you see that individual in a way that no one else does. people, write down your love. when you're angry, re-read those words and remember how much beauty there is in unconditional love. our society is insanely conditional. we typically do not approve of 2nd chances, but, oh, how many 2nd chances we've been given!
 |
| letters to juliet except not dumb |
danny, you've made me feel passionate again. passionate about sharing things i love and treasure. challenge of the week, write a friend. mail is fun to write and SO fun to receive. it's special. make someone feel special this week. you'll be surprised how your letter will impact that person's day. unless it's hate mail. i guess it's still impacting, but really? how about you not.
here's something else i love:
 |
| george thompson |
baby boy turned 1 this past week. little ball of joy. when i finish his birthday present, i'm totally showing them off. (hint: they're tiny TOMS) (eeeeeee!!!!) (maybe parentheses aren't so bad...?)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
characterization
i already know this post will have 2 totally different metaphors. they kind of relate to each other, maybe. but you now know, if you've been a faithful reader, that i can only write in a stream of consciousness kind of way. bear with me. (every time i write "bear" i always want to follow it with: rawwwrr) :)
when i was 14, maybe 15, my oldest sister got engaged to the greatest guy. now, i knew i liked him-- i mean who couldn't, he's amazing-- but i had always had a hard time letting another person into my family. i'm super protective over the people i love. like sometimes it's out of control. all that protectiveness made me resent him for even TRYING to win his way into our hearts. boy, don't play. i've already got one brother, i don't need another one. (siiiigh...) i realized shortly after i turned on my, "ugh, you are ruining everything!!" attitude, probably the ugliest thing anyone could ever experience coming out of me, i became aware that i am Jo March. L.M. Alcott wrote about me before i was born. i, like Jo, refused to be pleased with the fact that my family was spreading and expanding. i also did the same thing with my other sister when she got engaged. we also kind of hated each other then, which was not surprising since i did not love the Lord at this time. anyway, i ended up coming around. my b-i-l, both of them, they are the greatest men. and i'm happy to be able to consider them my brothers.
shifting to my next thing, which is, again, maybe related to Jo, but maybe not. or maybe this is just my heart talking. like Jo (we're starting off on a good foot) i don't really care for change. i like the wildness of the world and i like to experience new things, but i do not like change within my close circles of life. when accepting my b-i-ls, it was a stretch for me. i didn't know how to love then. since becoming a follower of Christ, i want ALLLLLLL of my relationships to never ever end, but to forever grow deeper. which, i think, is something i've learned to treasure and desire since i want the same thing to happen with my relationship with Christ. i want growth. i long for growth. but instead of shrinking back the growth just to my family and a few close friends, i want the growth i desire to spread from my initially closed circle to everyone i know, like a wild fire. very little would please me more. but i also know that what i want verbally can not be executed unless i act upon it with a strong action. sometimes trees (oh dear, here's where i break off from Jo) need pruning so that they can flourish again. which means something has to die. i don't like watching things die.
i had a fish very recently, her name was Tennille (R.I.P. girl, R.I.P.), and i knew, from experience, with the behavior she was showing that she wasn't going to make it. i was way bummed when i walked out to see her dead in the tank 5 days after i got her. it was also freaking my frogs out -- i'll share the frog story one day -- and so everyone Tennille met, she had made enough of an impact to freak them out by her untimely death. i wasn't expecting to write and obit for her... well there you go, Tennille. anyway, back to pruning. i know that sometimes things need to die or be cut away because they will kill you if they aren't. but what you also may not know, is i seriously struggle with being controlling. i like to have my hand in situations where i've made myself believe i can use my wily ways to have an advantage, and BOOM! everything's goin' my way... not so much the case anymore. i've seen, with a sibling of mine, that if you let go and stop trying to control, Christ will be seen more clearly because all i'm doing is focusing on loving and waaaaay less on controlling. it's sad to prune, but it's good for growth, and i'd rather be a submissive, blooming tree than a writhing, little sapling clinging to life, refusing to let go of my dead limbs, and let my Master get rid of the things that are destroying me (whoa). a beautiful, fruitful life is much more impacting than a life that never had blossoms, fruit, or love.
so i am Jo March. i am also a lover of Christ. it seems i'm also a tree. and i'm happy.
when i was 14, maybe 15, my oldest sister got engaged to the greatest guy. now, i knew i liked him-- i mean who couldn't, he's amazing-- but i had always had a hard time letting another person into my family. i'm super protective over the people i love. like sometimes it's out of control. all that protectiveness made me resent him for even TRYING to win his way into our hearts. boy, don't play. i've already got one brother, i don't need another one. (siiiigh...) i realized shortly after i turned on my, "ugh, you are ruining everything!!" attitude, probably the ugliest thing anyone could ever experience coming out of me, i became aware that i am Jo March. L.M. Alcott wrote about me before i was born. i, like Jo, refused to be pleased with the fact that my family was spreading and expanding. i also did the same thing with my other sister when she got engaged. we also kind of hated each other then, which was not surprising since i did not love the Lord at this time. anyway, i ended up coming around. my b-i-l, both of them, they are the greatest men. and i'm happy to be able to consider them my brothers.
shifting to my next thing, which is, again, maybe related to Jo, but maybe not. or maybe this is just my heart talking. like Jo (we're starting off on a good foot) i don't really care for change. i like the wildness of the world and i like to experience new things, but i do not like change within my close circles of life. when accepting my b-i-ls, it was a stretch for me. i didn't know how to love then. since becoming a follower of Christ, i want ALLLLLLL of my relationships to never ever end, but to forever grow deeper. which, i think, is something i've learned to treasure and desire since i want the same thing to happen with my relationship with Christ. i want growth. i long for growth. but instead of shrinking back the growth just to my family and a few close friends, i want the growth i desire to spread from my initially closed circle to everyone i know, like a wild fire. very little would please me more. but i also know that what i want verbally can not be executed unless i act upon it with a strong action. sometimes trees (oh dear, here's where i break off from Jo) need pruning so that they can flourish again. which means something has to die. i don't like watching things die.
i had a fish very recently, her name was Tennille (R.I.P. girl, R.I.P.), and i knew, from experience, with the behavior she was showing that she wasn't going to make it. i was way bummed when i walked out to see her dead in the tank 5 days after i got her. it was also freaking my frogs out -- i'll share the frog story one day -- and so everyone Tennille met, she had made enough of an impact to freak them out by her untimely death. i wasn't expecting to write and obit for her... well there you go, Tennille. anyway, back to pruning. i know that sometimes things need to die or be cut away because they will kill you if they aren't. but what you also may not know, is i seriously struggle with being controlling. i like to have my hand in situations where i've made myself believe i can use my wily ways to have an advantage, and BOOM! everything's goin' my way... not so much the case anymore. i've seen, with a sibling of mine, that if you let go and stop trying to control, Christ will be seen more clearly because all i'm doing is focusing on loving and waaaaay less on controlling. it's sad to prune, but it's good for growth, and i'd rather be a submissive, blooming tree than a writhing, little sapling clinging to life, refusing to let go of my dead limbs, and let my Master get rid of the things that are destroying me (whoa). a beautiful, fruitful life is much more impacting than a life that never had blossoms, fruit, or love.
so i am Jo March. i am also a lover of Christ. it seems i'm also a tree. and i'm happy.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
this was the day
i don't know if it is my severe kathleen turner voice or if it was because i watched william and kate last night, but today, i was incredibly bold.
voice: so i went to auburn this past weekend, and though we did almost nothing that would have made me lose my voice, i woke up sunday rendered voiceless. i can't figure out why i always lose my voice in that apartment. i guess i can't handle the awesomeness of erin... you're welcome for that little shout out. anyway, when i do lose my voice, i think i feel most like the women in the 80s with their powersuits and butch haircuts. I AM WOMAN. HEAR ME ROAR. but really... i growl when i talk right now. groooss. anyway, so i growl, i also become way outspoken, and i don't know if today was just special because i was in a great mood since one of my classes just became an easy A class or what, but something just ticked inside me.
movie: last night i watched william and kate... along with 300,000 other lifetime fans (judge away, you're more than welcome to). i went to bed with a new desire: i want a prince... NOW.
no joke. i woke up this morning and said, "pshh, ain't no prince here. i will say and do as i please,". did i ever. challenged one of the lawyers to a dance-off... then realized, "maaaaaybe i should wait to do that with a guy when i have on jeans and not a dress". good call clara. anyway, i don't know if the whole kate and william story just super charged me for boldness or super annoyed me that that only happens in fairytales, but i felt a little wild; being sassy to my employers and somehow got laughs and maybe a new found appreciation for my "humor", made the guy that i think is beyond precious and crazy out of my league laugh (always a bonus for me), and then... i did something else, but it must not have been as outrageous as it thought it was at the time. i don't know how diary-ish i'm being, but here we are. i have no prince options but...
all this to say: i wanna be a princess soooo baaaaad. because if you marry a prince, this happens:
 |
| thanks doll face... |
movie: last night i watched william and kate... along with 300,000 other lifetime fans (judge away, you're more than welcome to). i went to bed with a new desire: i want a prince... NOW.
 |
| dear prince charming, i'm here. |
 |
| bad actor, good face |
no joke. i woke up this morning and said, "pshh, ain't no prince here. i will say and do as i please,". did i ever. challenged one of the lawyers to a dance-off... then realized, "maaaaaybe i should wait to do that with a guy when i have on jeans and not a dress". good call clara. anyway, i don't know if the whole kate and william story just super charged me for boldness or super annoyed me that that only happens in fairytales, but i felt a little wild; being sassy to my employers and somehow got laughs and maybe a new found appreciation for my "humor", made the guy that i think is beyond precious and crazy out of my league laugh (always a bonus for me), and then... i did something else, but it must not have been as outrageous as it thought it was at the time. i don't know how diary-ish i'm being, but here we are. i have no prince options but...
all this to say: i wanna be a princess soooo baaaaad. because if you marry a prince, this happens:
 |
| i want to be a pez figurine |
Friday, April 15, 2011
short stories
these next few items are too short to have their own post, but i wanted to share them nonetheless. i was actually driving home from work and got so excited to write this post that i giggled with joy. *cough cough- loser- cough*
Date of the Century:
a few years ago, i think about 4-5 -- ugh... i'm old--, i was asked to accompany a guy to a baseball game. i heard that this one girl who was like the lowest of the lows, in my mind, said no and my heart went out to the poor guy, so i gave him a "oh yeah! that'd be so fun!!". i now know why she said no...
i had a boyfriend at this time and even he was like, "really? i mean, sure, but really? him?". i was so ashamed that all these people were so hateful. i got all proud and felt like i was doing my good deed, little did i know it would be my good deed of the year. he wanted to come pick me up at the casa, but i was determined to let him know this was definitely a friendship thing, not a "hey bebe... how you doin?" thing. i get to the meeting place, he's a little late, no biggie, i'm late for everything, get in the car and the awkwardness began almost as soon as i got in the bucket seat. small talk, small talk, small talk... and i start feeling a little rough. it's real hot outside, like muggy hot, and we didn't have great seats. we were at a work thing for him and we were eating dinner on the backside of the field-- dumb idea, stadium planner-- which was bbq... something i don't normally care for, especially in the hot, nasty sun, boiling in the grossness of its fat juices. anyway, back to the story, so i start getting all these stares and whispers by older women, pointing and going "ooooh!!", oh no. here it comes... him: "so how do i need to introduce you?" me: "i'm your friend. friend. friend. friend only." him: "oh, okay." sorry champ.
the night goes on. boring conversations, meaningless dribble... and then i think, "hey i have some great stories from my summer. i'll share those!". so i start sharing my favorite story about this little boy who had turrets syndrome and would run around the camp screaming every so often that it would scare the mess out of everyone. so as i'm telling this i'm laughing hysterically, because come one, it's a funny story, and an awkward silence falls over us. ... "i have turrets." OH FOR THE LOVE!!!!! (what do i say, what do i say, what do i sayyyyy?!?!) "so what's it like living with that?" he then goes into gross detail, that to this day sounds made up, and i'm mortified. there were fireworks, but i felt so horrible (physically) that we left. i get home and i had a fever of 103. goes down in history as the worst date ever.
Limited Understanding:
one day i walking to the company parking lot to run an errand and there is a mexican* couple going in the exit of a private parking lot. (* i don't normally distinguish people because of their ethnicity... in the written word... but this time it serves a purpose). i see the window roll down and i hear them call out me,
-"escuse me... can you help?"
-awww, bless, "sure! what are you looking for?"
-"where is the electric?"
-"like the electric company?"
-"yes, electric."
-"well, hmm, i'm not sure, but you're at the water works building and i'm sure they can tell you where it is."
-"no, electric. where it is?"
-"i don't know. but the water company does, and since you're blocking their exit, it won't be too far out of you way to ask them, (i didn't really say that, but i thought it). it's just right around the corner (i did say that)."
-"electric?"
-"nope."
-(insert rolling eyes and a sigh of annoyance... ON HER SIDE OF THIS CONVERSATION!!)
-(in my head) dear woman, it took everything in me to decipher what you were saying so i could offer you help, and you roll your eyes at me?! your child isn't even properly buckled!! 2 strikes against you, chick.
and i walked away and inhaled horrible fumes from the exhaust of their car. lose-lose.
Hallways:
i work in a lovely, old building. those of you that know my obsession with architecture can now understand why i love pointing out, "that's my building" when we go to the alley. exposed brick, wood beams, warehouse ceilings... anyway, i digress. in this lovely building there are INSANELY long hallways, mainly just one that everyone gets trapped on in a, "how long do i look at them?" battle. it can be super awkward. i feel like when i'm walking down that hall like i'm 4 or 5 years old again in the back of the station wagon that we used to have and when you'd get trapped back there in bumper to bumper traffic, you'd be stuck trying not to make eye contact with the people staring you down and have to be stuck staring at the the back of billboards like they were interesting to you; "oh did you see how that was built? nice frame... why yes, that is a nice frame. ... hope they made good money off that one..." oh clara... always fall for those pointless rabbit trails. so here are a few scenarios which i have either done or seen done.
here's the sitch, someone walks out of their office and i someone else just so happen to turn the corner at the other end of the hall...
Date of the Century:
a few years ago, i think about 4-5 -- ugh... i'm old--, i was asked to accompany a guy to a baseball game. i heard that this one girl who was like the lowest of the lows, in my mind, said no and my heart went out to the poor guy, so i gave him a "oh yeah! that'd be so fun!!". i now know why she said no...
i had a boyfriend at this time and even he was like, "really? i mean, sure, but really? him?". i was so ashamed that all these people were so hateful. i got all proud and felt like i was doing my good deed, little did i know it would be my good deed of the year. he wanted to come pick me up at the casa, but i was determined to let him know this was definitely a friendship thing, not a "hey bebe... how you doin?" thing. i get to the meeting place, he's a little late, no biggie, i'm late for everything, get in the car and the awkwardness began almost as soon as i got in the bucket seat. small talk, small talk, small talk... and i start feeling a little rough. it's real hot outside, like muggy hot, and we didn't have great seats. we were at a work thing for him and we were eating dinner on the backside of the field-- dumb idea, stadium planner-- which was bbq... something i don't normally care for, especially in the hot, nasty sun, boiling in the grossness of its fat juices. anyway, back to the story, so i start getting all these stares and whispers by older women, pointing and going "ooooh!!", oh no. here it comes... him: "so how do i need to introduce you?" me: "i'm your friend. friend. friend. friend only." him: "oh, okay." sorry champ.
the night goes on. boring conversations, meaningless dribble... and then i think, "hey i have some great stories from my summer. i'll share those!". so i start sharing my favorite story about this little boy who had turrets syndrome and would run around the camp screaming every so often that it would scare the mess out of everyone. so as i'm telling this i'm laughing hysterically, because come one, it's a funny story, and an awkward silence falls over us. ... "i have turrets." OH FOR THE LOVE!!!!! (what do i say, what do i say, what do i sayyyyy?!?!) "so what's it like living with that?" he then goes into gross detail, that to this day sounds made up, and i'm mortified. there were fireworks, but i felt so horrible (physically) that we left. i get home and i had a fever of 103. goes down in history as the worst date ever.
Limited Understanding:
one day i walking to the company parking lot to run an errand and there is a mexican* couple going in the exit of a private parking lot. (* i don't normally distinguish people because of their ethnicity... in the written word... but this time it serves a purpose). i see the window roll down and i hear them call out me,
-"escuse me... can you help?"
-awww, bless, "sure! what are you looking for?"
-"where is the electric?"
-"like the electric company?"
-"yes, electric."
-"well, hmm, i'm not sure, but you're at the water works building and i'm sure they can tell you where it is."
-"no, electric. where it is?"
-"i don't know. but the water company does, and since you're blocking their exit, it won't be too far out of you way to ask them, (i didn't really say that, but i thought it). it's just right around the corner (i did say that)."
-"electric?"
-"nope."
-(insert rolling eyes and a sigh of annoyance... ON HER SIDE OF THIS CONVERSATION!!)
-(in my head) dear woman, it took everything in me to decipher what you were saying so i could offer you help, and you roll your eyes at me?! your child isn't even properly buckled!! 2 strikes against you, chick.
and i walked away and inhaled horrible fumes from the exhaust of their car. lose-lose.
Hallways:
i work in a lovely, old building. those of you that know my obsession with architecture can now understand why i love pointing out, "that's my building" when we go to the alley. exposed brick, wood beams, warehouse ceilings... anyway, i digress. in this lovely building there are INSANELY long hallways, mainly just one that everyone gets trapped on in a, "how long do i look at them?" battle. it can be super awkward. i feel like when i'm walking down that hall like i'm 4 or 5 years old again in the back of the station wagon that we used to have and when you'd get trapped back there in bumper to bumper traffic, you'd be stuck trying not to make eye contact with the people staring you down and have to be stuck staring at the the back of billboards like they were interesting to you; "oh did you see how that was built? nice frame... why yes, that is a nice frame. ... hope they made good money off that one..." oh clara... always fall for those pointless rabbit trails. so here are a few scenarios which i have either done or seen done.
here's the sitch, someone walks out of their office and
- smile
- hey... unless they're at the total opposite end, then it's a smile and...
- whip out the phone
- hey, lookie there! that's a wall.
- (inside head) please go into an office
- stare at the floor... did the cleaners vacuum?!?! .... nope.
- stare blankly off
- play with hair
- please, please, please go into an office
- look at what's in my/their hands... that's what i thought, i'm holding paper.
- oh crap, i have nothing to do with my hands...
Sunday, April 10, 2011
so golden
i'm sorry i haven't written in so long; i have a few pieces in the making, but for the meantime this should hold you over... i like to pretend that my readers are waiting with bated breath until i post again. please let me live in this fantasy.
so, i found this in a link, and HOLY. CRAP. this woman took those old golden books (remember those? all the disney stories or any other story that influenced you as a child) and pasted the pages together to create this masterpiece.
the bodice is made of the binding, the gold part of the book, and the skirt is all the pages, color coordinated to make this fairytale dress. the surface area of the skirt is 22,000 inches.
so, i found this in a link, and HOLY. CRAP. this woman took those old golden books (remember those? all the disney stories or any other story that influenced you as a child) and pasted the pages together to create this masterpiece.
the bodice is made of the binding, the gold part of the book, and the skirt is all the pages, color coordinated to make this fairytale dress. the surface area of the skirt is 22,000 inches.
go here to see the process of how the dress was made.
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