"That is My Faith"

It's difficult for me to talk about the things that are really important to me right here. Or anywhere, really. I have to cover up my face or hide under a blanket to tell you how I really feel. I can't totally explain why but it has to do with the fact that it would be cool if my brains could just open up and fall onto the keyboard, hitting all the letters in the right order so that it makes some sense for you to read and I wouldn't have to do all of the work figuring out what the right words are.

And I don't want to say things in the wrong way so that you don't get exactly what I'm saying. Because I don't want you to misunderstand me. Because there's nothing in the whole world that I hate more than being misunderstood or misrepresented or misinterpreted or some other "mis" word. But I suppose that's what you open yourself up to when you limit yourself to letters and punctuation and then open it up to conversation. So, I guess here goes nothing.

The other day it was brought up in conversation that a friend of mine, whom I've known for a dozen or so years, seemingly out of the blue decided that she doesn't believe in God anymore and moved to another state with her boyfriend with the intention to join a little hippie commune, and live off the land. Honestly, my very first response to this news was, "what I wouldn't give..." But then I realized that after my many years of dorm living, my current living situation is about as communal as I'll ever be able to stand but the idea is the same. What I wouldn't give to have the opportunity and ability to leave. Start over: mind, body, soul. Get dirty. Sounds like a treasure. Obviously I am removed from the situation and I don't know the whole story so I won't pretend to. All I know is that when the situation was explained to me there was a lighthearted joke-- comparing her to another lifetime friend of ours. Implying that anyone who isn't buying the Sunday School crap anymore is just going through a phase. I beg that you forgive the cynicism in that previous sentence but I've been working on this blog for about six days and there's just not another way to make my point. I assure you, there is no more cynicism to be found here.

In the not too terribly distant past, Tamra, (aforementioned lifetime friend) spoke the words that her thoughts on God had changed as well--or hadn't changed, per se, but maybe never were? I'm certainly not going to use this space to tell you about what she thinks because it's not my place and also, all of the "mis" words that I spoke about earlier. I do know that back in October some friends and I went to Tamra's beautiful house in Kansas City. A house that she purchased and put back-breaking work into. A house with an enormous front porch looking out onto a street with other gorgeous houses with enormous front porches--a house where you can't help but feel at-home in. Totally loved. I never wanted to leave. Even to go for a walk. Tamra made us lunch and we sat down at the table and before we ate she said something along the lines of, "just because I don't think there's a God out there listening to all of my prayers doesn't mean that we can't hold hands before a meal." So we all held hands and we closed our eyes and Tam spoke hopes and wishes over us and in that moment I deeply felt, "finally, somebody gets me."

And there is suddenly so much misunderstanding. I can't even say that, really. It's conclusion jumping is what it is. A friend of yours (me) decides that she just can't pretend to be a part of the bandwagon anymore and suddenly there are conclusions drawn without any discussion. At the first mention of "atheist" or "agnosticism", "debauchery" is a synonym that comes to mind. Whether that's the case or not. Fact of the matter is that I'm not concerned about naming myself or anyone else because I'm quite sure that's what got us all into this mess in the first place.

It's just that... When I tell you that I don't believe in God the way that you believe in God, I hope that you don't think I'm simply ignoring some inflexable truth simply to gallivant or overindulge in all things sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. (Believe me, I went to a Christian university and there is gallivanting enough for lifetimes, and plenty of hung-over and probably-pregnant kids in Sunday School.) And then when I'm through with that phase I'll come back into the fold and then have this brilliant story of redemption. That's not the case. When I tell you that I don't believe in God the way that you believe in God, what I mean is that I am not buying this thing about there being a plan for my life with right answers and wrong turns. What I mean is that I'm not concerned with rules and tiny, stupid things that will never impact another person's life aside from "winning" an argument. I certainly can't argue against the concept of a God and I'm absolutely never going to tell you that it's wrong for you to believe and devote yourself to whatever it is that helps you along in this life. Because this shit is tough. I thought it was just me but getting along into my late 20's and talking to other people like me, I'm finding that it's a universal truth. It's the Human Condition.

Most of my very best, most well rounded and understanding friends believe deeply in salvation and prayer and all that goes along with Christianity. And I admire it and I adore that part of them. I would never, even here, mean to imply that's the wrong thing. Because I certainly can't tell you that what I've got is the right thing. I know it works for me. I probably feel more gratitude and joy now than I ever did, before.

The load became heavy and starts weighing you down and when you start to sink and die, you start throwing stuff out of the boat. For me, that had to be all of the obligations that came with holding on to the Christian label. All of the guilt for not doing this enough or making this choice or for "screwing up" time and time and time and time again when in reality I was just a human being. That's grace. That's what grace looks like. When you can look at yourself and say, "give yourself a break--you're just a person." That's grace in action--not grace as some idea that you subscribe to and hope that it'll one day work out. And I started to breathe easier. I remember the first Sunday that I said I wouldn't be needing a ride to church anymore. And I walked around campus and I sat on benches and I felt the warm sun on my back and everything felt more real than it had in a long time. It was a sabbath, indeed. And I came home and nursed my hung-over roommates back to health with tall glasses of water and tacos. And that was love in action. And I will take love in action over faith as a concept any day of the week.

Just this morning, Tamra sent me an email and in it she said this and I'm going to share it with you because it is the most legitimate example of physical truth that I can think of. "This week I held/restrained a child who was screaming hysterically for ages. She was two inches from my face and I just kept rocking her and saying over and over again, 'it is okay I'm going to stick this out with you.' That is my faith."

So maybe it seems like "out of the blue" when someone that you haven't actually had a legitimate conversation with in half a decade moves away to do something that does seem a little surprising considering her upbringing (and, I might add--bless her for doing it when she's 21 instead of waiting until she's a wife and mother of three children and suddenly realizes that she never had a chance to get to know herself). Maybe it seems like late-stage rebellion when your friend or your daughter or your sister says "I can't do it like this anymore." But maybe it's a reality. Maybe it's a reality that you're not familiar with. Maybe it's a reality for them that would never ever work for you. But just please understand that it goes the other way as well.

I'm afraid that the thing that makes me happy is the thing that's going to make some of you sad. And I'm sorry for that. And I know that many of you will say that you are praying for me and I am grateful for that. I just hope that when you're thinking of us--when you're praying for us, you don't pray that we start to believe what you believe but that we live full, spiritual lives. And when you think of your friends and your family members--don't boil them down to this one aspect of their personality. Think of me as your creative, happy, kind, honest friend (I would hope--that's what I'm shooting for). Think of Tamra as a woman with perseverance, love and grace for multitudes--and hundreds of other things. People are people with bodies and spirits and minds and hearts. We are not the greatest difference between you and me.

And I love you. So much.

Being Broke is Free!

We're coming to the last day of a very broke couple of weeks, my friends. Food-wise we (I say "we" but we all know I'm the only one who lives in this house, unless you count Kiki and it's coming to my attention that every day she wants to live here less and less...) were down to scrounging the desperate section of the pantry. You know what I'm talking about. There are things in your cabinets and you don't know how they got there because there's no way you'll eat them. For me, that's a can of beanie weanies. And not even the fancy kind. As if I'd eat them either way. Luckily for me, I've been creative enough to eat everything else and blessed enough to have people who want to have me over for dinner. So--it's cool. But when you're down to a dollar fifty in your checking account (which you are actually quite proud of) and you have a day off, you have to come up with all sorts of things to entertain yourself.
Yesterday Katie made a vlog about all sorts of things you could do if you are broke. Today, I'm going to expand on that thought and tell you all about the free things that I did, today! Being broke--it costs no moneys.

1. You wake up and you want--nay, require coffee. Because coffee is the most delicious drug I've ever had. Unless you count liquor as a drug. For the past week I've looked at the coconut rum in my fridge and thought, "Oh! I'll put that in my coffee!" And then I remember that it's booze that I'm wanting to put in my coffee at 7:30 in the morning. Indicative of a problem? I don't do it, you guys. Anyway, I always need to put something into my coffee and due to the aforementioned empty-fridge syndrome, I was out of both coffee creamer and also milk. I wasn't actually out of milk, milk was expired. So I went on a hunt and I searched between couch cushions and in pen cups and piggy banks and in the car and I came up with the $1.20 it takes to leave the gas station with a big cup of coffee. What?? So, that wasn't free but it was still awesome.

2. Update your Favorites list on Etsy so that when your friends become overwhelmed with love for you--love that can only be satisfied by buying presents, they'll know exactly where to go for ideas. (I've asked for presents twice in one week... man, I just want new stuff) The fun part about adding stuff to your favorites list on Etsy is that it's exactly like online shopping! But it's free (and you don't get anything in your mailbox)! (Seriously, though, there's a pair of shoes on that list that I'm going to be saving up for. I wants them.)

3. Do your laundry! You haven't had a day off in a hundred years and you've only got a few pairs of unders left. Just do the laundry. It's not fun (especially when your brother pretty much convinced you that the basement is full of bats and then you sort of spooked yourself into thinking that there might be a snake in the washing machine) but it needs to be done and there's no better time. Plus, you love folding the laundry (once you really get around to it). I'm out of laundry detergent, now, though so that next load won't be free anymore. But I'm excited about the new design of the Cheer label--so I'm going to buy it. That's how I make my decisions.

4. Consider a hobby. Perhaps cross stitch? People have been trying to teach me to knit/ crochet for years and years but everyone has given up. Maybe I can learn how to cross stitch or something. I want an old lady hobby. This activity did not take long.

5. Browse Tastespotting and come up with a shopping list so that you can make the delicious creations. You have to eat anyway, you might as well eat awesome stuff. For the record, next week I'll be making Pasta with Shrimp and Artichokes and also vegetarian (read: primarily black bean and avacado) tacos this week so anyone who wants in on any of that is more than welcome.

6. Learn how to Dougie. You can learn to do anything via YouTube. What existed before YouTube existed? How did people know how to tie their hair into fancy knots or dance or apply liquid eyeliner or cut their own hair? (I learned all of these things--today, alone!) Do not tape yourself Dougieing (which is, I assume, the correct way to say it?) but do take photographic evidence. Try to Dougie to every song that pops up on the internet radio to which you subscribe. Admit that, in fact, it's difficult to do any type of dance while Super Bass is playing but that might be because you are seriously friggin' impressed with Nickie Minaj. Anyway, photographic evidence of mein dancing efforts:

7. Utilizing another YouTube tutorial, cut your own bangs. Like a boss.


8. Blog about it all.

9. Then do the dishes for the same reasons outlined in the bit about laundry. But with totally different downsides.

My Break Up with Netflix

Oh my goodness! There is controversy and hurt feelings run amok all over the interwebs regarding the way that Netflix changed their prices. Outrage in the village, people! And, yeah, I did decide to cancel my subscription and, yeah, it did happen to coincide with said price changes but it really didn't have to do with them. Well, I guess maybe it did a little bit but not by much.

This is more a piece about how I go through phases. I'm sure you do, too? I'm only sure of that because all of my siblings do. My older brother goes through phases that are years and years and years long so maybe that's not so much a "phase" as much as an ever growing and expansive personality which might just be the right way to go about it. But the mind wants what it wants and my mind needs constant changing stimulation. But I go through phases. They're generally six months long or so. I go through healthy eating and regular exercise phases followed up by I'm-so-excited-about-cooking-things. I go through phases where I'm going to write every day--no matter what. This is subsequently followed by "What's the point? I'ma write only when I feel inspired because then everything will be gold! (no it won't)" I went through a meditation phase... it lasted about ten minutes (spread out over the course of a week). And then I go through rotating movie/ books phases. Those are really the only ones that are consistent. I know that if I'm going through a watch all of the movies phase, then I will inevitably stumble upon one good looking book review in Real Simple Magazine and then bum rush the library.

Did I just use the phrase "bum rush" appropriately? Probably I did not.

I had a professor in college who was from India. She was sweet and oftentimes unreasonable but definitely sweet and she would say things in a unique way. Like instead of saying, "I probably did not use "bum rush" correctly," she would say, "Probably I did not use "bum rush" correctly." Only I'm about a thousand percent certain that Shanti would never use "bum rush" under any sort of circumstance. Anyway, what started out as casual mockery (much like my use of the word "totes" and also "LOL") quickly morphed into my everyday vernacular. So... now I totes put "probably" into weird places in a sentence. Now you know. Do you love it? Probably it bugs the hell out of you like it did me. (Also, most of her "v" sounds came out as "w" sounds and you should have seen the look of confusion on our faces the first time she asked us to "identify the werb". It was mostly awesome but there was always that anxious self-doubt where you're wondering "is this the accent thing or just a word that I've never heard before...")

So now I'm going through a reading phase. I joined the adult summer reading program at the McPherson Public Library (because I am middle-aged and trying to fill my time since the Empty Nest Syndrome has set in) and it's forcing me to read a bunch of genres that I am not instinctively drawn to. I like that. I'm reading Latin American lit right now and, frankly, I'm feeling a little saucy. Also, I've been talking about starting up a local book club. I think my little town is in need of one and maybe as the summer comes to a close, then I'll seriously try to get one started if people are interested. I know I'm interested. I really miss talking about stories with people who have all read the same thing.

So anyway, Netflix, all that to say that's why I left you. I can almost guarantee that I'll come back to you at some point. But when I cancelled my subscription, you gave me this little questionnaire to fill out about why I was leaving. I checked the boxes that kind of worked for my reasons but it wasn't enough. You were like, "are you leaving me for Amazon? Hulu Plus?? You know you have to pay for that, too! Those bitches." But that's not it, Nettie, baby, honey, shhh... there's no one else. It's just--you're not it for me right now. Not, now. And I know you're going to send me occasional emails begging for me to return to you--and maybe I will. I get lonely sometimes at night.

And I really don't mind spending $7 a month to have you send dvd's to my house as often as I like. I really don't. Seven dollars is a steal! And if I ever streamed movies on my computer, then the new $15 price for both is still a really great deal! It is. It's just that if I'm absolutely not using this service, then I'm going to save my $7 and give it to Applebees in exchange for a sangria in a glass the size of a small fish tank. It's nothing against you. I just have priorities and those priorities involve Chuck Palahniuk and liquor. But it's not Hulu Plus. I promise, I'll never pay to stream a movie onto my laptop. That's just stupid.

Do you go through phases? Do you want to join my book club? Are you butt hurt because Netflix wants to charge you $4 more than you paid last month?

How To Make Up a Recipe

Okay, boys and girls. Here's a legitimate How-To that I might be qualified to write! I'm not using this space to brag but to teach. I don't really use recipes. I just make them up. And when people find that out, they say "How do you do that?? How do you know what goes together?? How do you know you're not going to mess it up??" And today I'm going to teach you how to do something that comes super naturally to me. That is, developing your own dinner using only your own brains. It's hard for me to write, actually, because it is a skill (skill?) that comes so naturally to me that I can't really explain it. It's like this: I don't know how to whistle but no one who knows how to whistle can tell me how to do it. They say, "It's easy! Just purse your lips and... blow." No. It clearly is not that easy because I can do that all day long and no lovely song comes out. Just air. And sometimes saliva. Sexy. That being said, I'm still going to give it a shot.

I guess it all really starts at the grocery store. A well minded person would gather a list of all of the things that she wants to eat that week, compile another list of everything that she will need to purchase to make that list come true and then go to the grocery store. That's how the responsible types do their grocery shopping--I think? Some people also go to the store whenever they decide to cook something. I don't do that, though, because if my cupboards are not filled with things, then I'll just stop at Wendy's on the way to the grocery store and spend $6 on one sandwich and fries. So that's why I have to keep my pantry stocked. Do you know how many chicken sandwiches you can make for $6? I'm not totally sure but realistically speaking, I'd guess about four. But, let's be serious. If you're craving a spicy chicken, you're craving a lot more than spices on your chicken. When I'm craving a spicy chicken sandwich I'm craving nostalgia. And in that case, go get your Wendy's.

Anyway, even though I am an avid grocery shopper, I'm pretty bad at sticking to a list so I tend to shop like this,"I'm out of milk and eggs and I have no more apples." Then I just start grabbing things that I tend to enjoy and when I get home, then I figure out what to make with all of them. It's a gamble but sometimes it works out magnificently. One thing to keep in mind when it comes to grocery shopping is that you want to spend as much time around the perimeter of the store as possible. That's where you'll find the freshest ingredients Fresher ingredients = fewer preservatives, better flavor and more vitamins. Meat, seafood, fresh baked bread, cheese, vegetables, dairy: all of the food groups. Hooray!
That doesn't mean that shelf-things are bad things. There are certain items from the middle of the store that I always keep on hand those things are:
Rice, canned beans and tomatoes, (though apparently there's stuff in canned food that will give you cancer or something--so if you don't like cancer, you can research that and come up with an alternative. I, personally, am a little bit tired of running away from cancer and so I have taken a "casually avoid" approach to the whole thing. Also, I tend to not buy a lot of canned foods for the simple fact that they make my groceries very heavy and squish my other stuff) your favorite pasta shape (I personally like rigatoni) jarred pasta sauce (for nights when you're feeling super lazy) and chicken stock. You can pretty much go anywhere if you already have these things in your pantry. So buy those things and then pretty much anything else that you like from the edges of the store and you'll be able to make a meal--I promise. So lets get into it.

So, you're hungry or bored. Probably you're mostly bored and not yet hungry but you figure you'll probably be hungry at some point, later. Step one: Survey the scene!

I looked in the pantry and saw things like beans and rice and taco shells. I looked in my fridge and saw this big green pepper and thought about how my mom used to stuff peppers with rice and taco meat and cheese and bake them. It was pretty much my favorite thing ever. But I only have one green pepper. So I decided that I was just going to take all of the ingredients that you would put into a stuffed pepper and put them all into a casserole. That's the same, right? No, I don't know what all goes into a stuffed pepper but I know what kinds of flavors I like. I don't have any taco meat but that's okay. I've been trying to eliminate at-home meat intake anyway, lately. So we'll make up for the protein in other ways. There's tons of protein and other healthy things in black beans and I also have a mystery protein source that I will reveal when we get to it.

Step two: Get to it!
As with most things in my life, my philosophy on cooking is fake it 'till you make it. Don't know how to cook? Pretend. I recommend pretending like you're on a cooking show. That's what I always do. Because I'm always cooking alone. And if you're not cooking alone, you can still pretend that you're on a cooking show because you probably have an audience. You say things like, "I'm doing this because ____" and that makes you more aware of what you're doing and why you're doing it. That's important because you remember what works and what doesn't.
I know that I'm going to put rice and beans and my green peppers and onions and tomatoes all together. I know that I'm really going to want that rice to be cooked because uncooked rice is inedible. So cook the rice!
Here's how you cook rice:
1 part rice + 2 parts liquid
A. Bring to a boil.
B. Turn the burner down to low and simmer for, like, 20 minutes or until it's done. You know it's done when you taste it and it's edible.

Secondly, I know that the rice is going to be the main portion of the dish and I want it to be super flavorful. I used a coffee cup as measuring tool. I put in one cup of rice, one cup of water and then one cup of salsa. That way it gets a little tomatoey and spicey. But experience has told me that won't be enough flavor. So I stood next to the spice cabinet and dumped in any spice that smelled like it could be tacoey. I dumped in salt and pepper and garlic and cumin and red pepper flakes. Then I stirred it up and let it cook the way rice cooks. Had I any cilantro, I would have added a friggin ton of that as well. After the rice was done cooking, I dumped it into a big bowl and put it into the fridge to cool it down. I did that because experience has told me that if you keep it warm and then put it into the oven, it'll keep cooking that whole time and it will get really gummy. No one likes that.

While it was cooling down, I chopped up my green peppers and onions and tomatoes. I asked myself, "Self? Should I saute these things before I put them into the rice and stuff?" Self answered with, "Um... let's not and see what happens." I didn't saute them for a few reasons, the first reason being that when my mom stuffed her peppers, she stuffed them raw. Also it's easier to not add an extra step and I like the way that fresh veggies crunch. So I didn't. That's all. You could cook them if you wanted to. NBD.
Also, experience has told me to rinse my beans. You don't always have to rinse your beans but for this purpose I did because, in the past, I've not rinsed my beans and they made my food all gummy again. Hot rice + un-rinsed beans = a gummy mess. I just know that. I only know that because I've made "mistakes" in the past. You'll figure it out while you're faking it.

So, I put everything together with the rice that has cooled down a bit and I was thinking that it would need some type of sauce to run throughout it to bind it together and add a little extra flavor. At first I thought that salsa would do the trick but I used a lot of that for the rice. Hmm... what to do. Look in the fridge again. What do you see? I see a tub of greek yogurt.
Have you ever tasted plain Greek yogurt? It's terrible. Have you ever tasted fat-free sour cream? It's friggin Greek yogurt. You know what makes fat-free yogurt edible? Salsa. So here we go. Mix all of the yogurt into the salsa. Trust me. Sometimes things that don't taste great on their own are just delicious when you mix them together. Like... I can't think of any examples right now but there are tons of them.

So, essentially, I just took all of the things (and I crumbled up some left over taco shells--I don't know why. Texture? Color? Whatever) and stirred them all up together and then put them into a prepared baking dish ("prepared" means that you Pam'd the hell out of it so that it doesn't stick and make clean-up a horrible task). Then I thought it should probably have cheese on top but I don't have any sprinkle cheese. So I cut up slice cheese and laid it all on top like that. And I baked it. Since it was all ready to eat, anyway, I mostly just let it bake until I couldn't handle it anymore. The rule in my house is that when you can smell it, it's probably done. That usually works. It worked for me, anyway.

Step three: Eat it! If you don't like it--then you should probably figure out what you didn't like about it and then change that part. If you don't know what it is, call someone who cooks. They'll be able to tell you. Probably. You can email me. Once I emailed Hilah. She got back to me. It solved my problem and made me feel really cool. It's good to have friends who know how to do stuff.

Now I'll attempt to write the recipe for what I made, in case you want to make it too.
1 coffee cup of rice
1 coffee cup of water
1 coffee cup of salsa
Spices that I did not measure: fresh garlic, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, cumin.
(Make the rice)

1 green pepper
1/2 red onion
1/2 tomato
1 can black beans (rinsed)
(You could also add corn or green chiles or anything else you like)
Crunched up taco chips

1 little tub-thing of sour cream (or greek yogurt or ranch dressing or... I don't know, whatever you want)
Probably a 1/2 a cup of salsa

Mix all of those things together. Stuff it into a caserolle dish. Top with whatever random cheese you have in your fridge. Bake it until you can smell it.

The end.

Hopes, Dreams, Goals, Meh.

I've been reading The Daily Love for a few weeks now. It's nice and refreshing and sweet sometimes. It's nice to have a little boost every now and again that by accepting, loving and being yourself--you're doing favors to everyone. When you have grace with yourself, it's easier to offer grace to other people. Not only that but everyone in your community will benefit from being in the presence of honesty and who doesn't want to extend that to their friends?

But you know how sometimes you find yourself beat over the head with certain themes for a while? It's kind of like how you're thinking of buying a particular car and then, suddenly, everywhere you look you see that particular car. It's a little like that--it's morning time, though, and I'm only a few sips into my coffee and maybe now isn't the most effective time for similes but I'll continue. I've been hearing about "success", "goals", "dreams" so much lately that it makes me think about my own. More particularly that I don't... I want to say this delicately. I don't really have them. I never really have. And, shocker, it hasn't really posed as a serious problem to me in my life except in the case of job interviews. When you say, "I don't really have a five-year-plan" it kind of makes you look like a slacker but what an interviewer should hear is, "I could probably be happy here forever. Never really know." It's bothered a few people in my life. Those super motivated types who never really understood that I didn't have long-term hopes and dreams.

I mean, I have things that I would like to do. Since Arryn turned 30, I've been thinking about it a lot and there are a few things that I would like to do before I turn the big 3-0 in two and a half years. Not because I feel like 30 means anything monumental but because it's nice to have a cut-off date for things. Do you want to know what's on my Thirty List? Only a few things. Okay, I'll tell you.
-I want to take a train to the North West portion of the US, pit stopping along the way. Preferably going from Kansas to California and North from there. I never wanted to visit California but Anne Lamott has made me really want to explore the San Fransisco Bay area. I want this trip to take at least a week and a half. Is that greedy?
-I want a bed that has a headboard that I can lean against to read. I've never had a bed that permitted such a luxury. If I lean against the wall in my current bed, it rolls out from under me.
-I want to maintain a reasonable vegetarian diet for at least a year. Reasonable being, not inconvenient to the people around me. I have no qualms about eating animals. It's more from a perspective of exercise in self-control. Subsequently, I don't want to be wasteful of others' resources. If you invite me to dinner, I plan to eat your meatloaf. Or whatever.

Yeah, those are just some things that I want to do but they're not goals. They're not a measure of success. They're nothing with a high-end. Just some life experiments and treats. Totally attainable.

I think when it really comes down to it my highest goal is to be helpful, loving and honest to everyone around me. That is my measure of success. I don't care about jobs or money--I've never really had much and I'm making due in a beautiful little world without it. I think I'm making due because I'm currently so surrounded with so much Unconditional. That's what I'll call it. This place--this apartment in this town with these people, my friends--the friends that I've had for a decade and the friends that I've had for a week--it all came to me exactly when I needed it as I've needed it. I'm grateful. It's hard to not choose to be happy when you're so thankful at everything that you see. That is--most days. Many times I am out of my mind with worry or insecurities. I don't want to give off some hippy, happy idea that's not the case. But mornings like this where it's dark like it's going to rain and people are mowing the lawn before it starts. The coffee is mixed exactly like I love it, I'm listening to oldish Wilco and I'm planning to make dinner for my friends, tonight--it's hard to focus on those things that can bogg down a brain.

I know not everyone feels that way this morning, and that's okay. When you feel full you can share with those who are running on empty. I hope I do that in measure. Come to my house, eat tacos. Feel the loves.

Losing a Parent: Comforting a Complete Stranger

When I go to the store and I'm having an interaction with my cashier, I don't know how you do it but I generally stick to "how are you doing, today?" and I go from there. They're doing their job and I don't really want to distract them too terribly, lest I get over-charged for the romaine that shouldn't cost nearly $3.00 anyway, if you're asking me. I know that's not the only way to interact with someone who's helping you but I like to think it's a pretty reasonable, average way to go about paying for produce.

I do work in the business of servicing customers, though, and I learned early on that customers like to get personal. I think there are a lot of things that allow them to feel free enough to get more personal with me than with, say, the lady who's ringing up your light bulbs. There aren't a whole lot of people in my section of the store and there's almost never a line waiting behind you. On top of that, it's my business to get personal with them, as well. Though on my end it's a little more from a medical standpoint than a personally invasive one.

Sometimes in life, you have to work on holidays. That's no big deal. I don't mind being the one to work holidays because I'm pretty much the only one at work who doesn't have a family or something like that.
When you work on Memorial Day people say, "What are you doing for Memorial Day??" And I say, "I'm working!" And then we have a mutual chuckle.
When you work the day before Easter (because we're never open on Easter) almost everyone says, "Will you get to see your family tomorrow??" And I... answer accordingly or something.
I learned, yesterday, that when you work on Father's Day, almost everyone says, "Did you call your dad today?"

I'll interrupt here to address my initial, blanket feelings about the fact that my father passed away. It should be noted that there are millions of complex and confusing and terrible and yes, even happy feelings that go along with losing a parent and I'll address those at other times, I'm sure. But by and large, on the whole, it's just a fact of my life. Over the course of these ten years, I've learned to live with it and accept it. When I was in college I was having a very hard time dealing with the fact that my life was progressing without my dad. I didn't know if I was grieving properly because I wasn't sad all of the time. I didn't commemorate him at every little milestone. And despite the fact that he crossed my mind (and still does) on average, every few hours, I didn't even talk about him with most people. I saw a counselor about it a few times who talked to me about walking beside my father. He said that I could hold my dad out in front of me and introduce this fact of my life to everyone that I met and let this loss define me. Another option was that I could push him so far behind me that I try to forget about him completely--and that might work for a little bit until, you know, his birthday or Father's Day comes up and then I'll be spooked by a ghost and find myself crumpled on the floor. And that would happen. Or, I could just accept the fact that he's not going anywhere--but I am, and I could bring him alongside me so that he doesn't define me or scare the crap out of me. And I think that's what I've done. That's what makes it easy to go through Father's Day like it's just another Sunday.

So, yeah, that's how I feel about it. So when people say, "did you call your dad, today?" I find ways around it by saying, "Well, I've been at work all day so far." Or they say, "How are you spending Father's Day?" And I say, "Working!" Oh, hahahaha, doy. And they take that to mean that I'll call him when I get home. That makes everyone feel better.

But then someone else came up, yesterday, who said "What did you do for your dad today?" Something overcame me, maybe it was the frustration with the fact that almost everyone that I had encountered so far just assumed that we're all the same and we all have happy, functional, alive relationships with our fathers. Maybe it was the fact that I just couldn't figure a way to weasel out of an answer but I just said it, "Well, actually, my father has passed away."

People usually respond one of two ways when they hear this news:
A. A deep, respectful nod and usually, "I'm very sorry to hear that." To which (I've learned) the appropriate response is, "thank you." And that's the end of that conversation.
B. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!!" But they're not sorry that I've had to live my life without my dad, what they're sorry about is the fact that they've reminded me of it--as though it's something that I've ever forgotten. They're also embarrassed that they just assumed that I'm just like them. They got caught being a little, innocently ego-centric. These are people who have never really lost anyone aside from maybe a pet or a grandma when they were 8. Which is fine, and it's still a hurtful loss but it's just not the same. I would prefer that no one ever really have to go through that feeling. I wouldn't mind being the last one.

To lose someone from your everyday life is life-altering to say the very, very least. They say, "I'm so sorry" and you can pretty much watch the seven stages of grief wash over their face all in succession. I've known this fact for ten years but they're just hearing it for the first time. Over time I've accepted the fact that some people just respond that way and that's when you have to encounter the most backwards part of grieving: comforting a complete stranger. In public. You have to find a way to make them feel better.

Generally, it is my instinct to make it into a joke. Through experience I've learned that responding to "I'm so sorry" with "did you do it?!" is not funny to anyone but yourself. Don't do it. Don't ever do it. I generally try to smile to let them know that I'm not going to lose my shit or anything and I'll explain that it happened a long time ago. Then they go about the rest of their day and go out into the parking lot and text all their friends, "OMFG u'll nvr guess what s2pid thing i just sed." They'll probably tell that story for the next few weeks.

Things I Learned, Today. Or, An Unintentional Cafe Review

"Oh, my God I don't want to go on this plane ride alone." Long pause. "What if I die? Oh my God, what if I die? That would suck for my mom." Long pause. "What if the plane crashes and I'm the only one who dies?" Her friend asked, finally, "but what if you don't?"

I didn't hear anything after that. I walked out of earshot--I thought it was a nice time to move along. It was like a quick transitional scene in a film I'd never seen.
I wonder, though, when Girl 2 decided to befriend Girl 1, did she realize that she was buoying up next to a female, twenty-something, protestant Woody Allen? Did she know the neurosis that she was in for?

I was browsing my new, accidental favorite bookstore in Wichita. I was looking at the design magazines. Design magazines are so expensive but they are gorgeous. But I loved that I got to overhear that conversation. I loved it so much that I pulled up a table and re-wrote it on the back of another hastily written essay idea. My purse: it is full of barely legible, scrawled essay ideas, quick scenes, lines of provocative alliteration. Could there be a more ominous (not to mention) obvious first line for a sell-out, NY Times best seller?
Girl 1 and Girl 2 got up to leave shortly after I sat down but on their way out, she took a piece of what appeared to be coconut cream pie to go. I get it--I'd include that in my last meal, too.

So, yeah, I was driving from the only part of Wichita with which I am familiar to a part of Wichita that I've never been to--well, I have been there once before but it was dark and I was wearing platform shoes and had two cider drinks and forgive me if it didn't ring a whole lotta bells. Mid-trip, I was getting hungry and I was looking for a drive through. But I couldn't find any. I drove through a twisty-turny residential neighborhood. Those damn suburbs sprouting up out of nowhere all of the time. I passed bistros with names that had too many vowels to be pronounceable and I passed all kinds of McDonalds but I kind of have a thing about that. I don't mind grabbing a McChicken when I'm in McPherson but when I'm out of town I don't like to do anything that I could do at home. That means no Walmarts and no McDonalds. And that's about it because my little town pretty much only has Walmart and McDonalds.

So I'm driving down Douglas and I see a bookstore and I didn't even think, I just turned in. Usually, and especially in unfamiliar driving situations, it's difficult for me (even when I'm all alone) to make a decision but today I learned that I break for bookstores. I was in town for about four hours and, in addition to my stop at the mall, The Spice Merchant, and Starbucks, I visited three bookstores. This is one of the pure delights of the singleton. I can change my plans. Go wherever I want, stay as long as I want. And today I went to Watermark Books at the corner of Douglas and Oliver and I stayed for a while. And I want to go back--to join their Modern Classic book club where they discuss Post WWII fiction. I've always thought that I had such a specific taste in literature that it was beyond genre. But I was wrong. It's called "Modern Classic". Yet another example of how I tend to think I'm way cooler than I really am.

So there's the bookstore, which is what I went for and then there's the cafe--which got me to stay. The menu is kind of perfect except that you want to order based on your food tastes but it's hard to not incorporate some literary allegiance in there, too. If I'd read the menu more carefully, I would have gone with Whitman but I ate Lolita (just like Humbert--zing! Pow!).
The Moby Dick: a tuna sandwich, obviously
The Don Quixote: A salad comprised of field greens--and black beans and corn and other stuff.
Leaves of Grass: Bruschetta topped with a green/ cream cheese spread. Clever.
The Great Gatsby: A meatloaf sandwich--I loved the idea.
Breakfast at Tiffany's: Banana, peanut butter and honey on a bagel. That's breakfast at Libby's.
Like I said, I had Lolita. She was a turkey and provolone sandwich with pesto and walnuts. Friggin' delicious. Friggin'. Delicious.

I'm totes going back. Next time I get lost on my way downtown. Or next time I want to join a book club an hour away from my home.

So I learned that there's a name for my preferred genre of literature and I learned where a new (okay, so they've been around since the 70's but it's new to me) favorite chill-out-spot is and I learned that walnuts on a sandwich sounds uncomfortable but it's actually really great. Some other things I learned, today (these learning moments were digitally captured in my phone in an effort to keep you visually stimulated):

Suggestive advertising is suggestive.


Proactive is not only available via infomercial, it's also available in a vending machine.

Did you know that acne thrived on indecision? I'm not saying it's not true, I'd just like to see some sources.
Also, hundreds of years from now, someone's going to say "A Proactive vending machine--isn't the just the most quaint little antique?" And I'll be dead but I'll still be irritated.

Precious little baby bananas are sooo precious. Yes they are. Who's a precious baby banana?
I also learned, and this is one for which there (sadly, I know) is no photographic evidence, that if you ask for a free bra--sometimes you get a free bra. And it looks so good.