luscious mix of words and tricks

nprfreshair:

erikostrom:

Garrison Keillor, infamous hipster.
(via City Pages)

Garrison Keillor.

But I sure know how to love this song. Thanks, Weezy.

nprfreshair:

I’ll Be Bach: A Jazzy Classical Sample

nprfreshair:

May the 4th be with you. [Ewan McGregor] [George Lucas] [Carrie Fisher] [James Earl Jones] [Frank Oz] [Pumpkin R2-D2] [The Sounds of Star Wars]

I recently discovered that my blog posts here, as well as my blog posts on a former blog I still used to write in were plagiarized. Meaning, someone highlighted my words with their mouse cursor, hit copy, then pasted into their own window and called it theirs. This girl is someone that I had a class with during my undergrad time at Oklahoma State. I really liked her. I suppose I still do on a certain level; but right now I just feel sad that she doesn’t think her own thoughts are interesting enough to put onto the interwebz.

I won’t go into the melodrama of how sad this made me that my thoughts, my perspectives and my feelings were being passed on for someone else’s, but it was melodramatic. EVEN MY JOKES. My crazy, “Dad” jokes were passed off as theirs. It was painful for me to read. 

I know I’m funny. It seems to be the #1 way I’m described. I learned to be funny. Because when you’re 5’2” and unathletic in any way shape or form, you have to learn a trade to get by so you have something to offer. So I just learned to speak out loud when I had a thought. I just hope this girl learns to do the same.

Rather than going on a tirade, I’ve decided to take the following approach that is seen in the above photo. Much like this Lassie dog, I’m just going to relax on the couch with my bucket hat & outdoor footwear (My preference being Chaco’s) and hope that others do not find me interesting enough to plagiarize. And if they do, all I have to say is: You must be really hard up for entertainment. And if you are, please go read this.

hope from henri.

I get easily discouraged that I can’t save the world; that there is so much pain that I can’t alleviate that whatever I do feels pointless. It feels so pointless, that I want to stop trying. I want to stop trying because I’m exhausted. It’s exhausting hearing students talk about being a prostitute or sleeping in an abandoned office building. It’s exhausting. But then, my little Henri Nouwen devotional encourages me and hits me right between the eyes to knock me senseless with reality.

So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyze us and depress us. Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time - Henri Nouwen.

Word up, Nouwen.

This is a picture of my very 1st car, which is now for sale at a local dealer. I miss it so much, that I googled until I could find it.

I don’t think it’s a big secret that I’m sentimental. Anyone that is in the least bit surprised that I’m sentimental I say to this: I have my prom corsages, the flowers that were given to me when I won Homecoming Queen & ALL of my Lisa Frank folders from elementary school… I’m not sure I should really be proud of that, but I feel like I’ve adequately painted a picture for you.

At 15.5 years, my dad sat me down, gave me guidelines and turned me loose into the car search. I had to find a car with low interest, under 7,000 miles and under $5,000. Hours into the search, I found a 1997 Isuzu Rodeo that was in a neighboring city. I was thrilled. As someone who has been a lifelong shorty, and will remain so unless I find some magical beans, I knew I wanted an SUV or a beat up pick up truck.

I’m really glad I opted against the truck.

Granted, when we got there, the dealer turned out to be really sketchy. But I didn’t care. I knew this car was the exact one I wanted. As we began the drive back home, we stopped at a gas station to fill up the car. I stood next to it and promptly named it Kermit. Sidenote: I name everything. Different post for a different time.

I cared for it as though it was my child. Even though I did not have my license, I would meticulously clean out the car, Febreze it (The previous owner was a smoker. Gag), and dream of the adventures it would take me on.

And so Kermit did. I went to my first prom in that car. I had my heart broken in that car. I kissed boys in that car. I spent countless number of hours in that car, chatting about life, love, and dreams, at every stage and age of my life. I entered college and graduated college with that car. Countless number of times did I lay my head against the steering wheel and sob in that car. I had multiple dance parties and solo jam sessions in that car. I raised support in that car. I moved to Texas in that car. I spent countless numbers of hours in that car driving all over Oklahoma and North Texas. I cursed that car’s name when it broke down on the way to my best friend’s wedding. I drove to undergrad orientation and graduate school orientation… In. The. Same. Car.

I get emotional about this car, the same way many people get emotional over a childhood pet. Or the tricycle they had that is attached to a story about the scar on their chin… Because when something escorts you from childhood into adulthood.

I lived 8 years of my life with that car. I lived adventures in that car. With the transmission gasping for life, it was time to trade Kermit in for something more reliable. But I cannot stop thinking how the 15.5 year old girl that bought that car with 7,000 miles on it and the 23.5 year old woman who traded that car with 170,000 miles has changed so much in 8 years.

Sang this in church this morning… Amen.

nprfreshair:

Audio for Tina Fey is now up. Enjoy!

My girl crush on this woman remains ferociously intact. In related news, I must now read “Bossypants.” Not that I wasn’t going to, but now, more than ever, I realize I must.

First off, this picture is what happens when you Google image search “Relationships.”

Go ahead. Laugh. Then, when you’ve wiped away the tears & cleaned yourself up, we can move forward.

This week at field placement, we had relationship lunch groups. A lady came to one of the high schools and spoke with some of the teens in our teen pregnant and/or parenting program.

It’s not a big secret that a lot physical and emotional abuse occurs. It occurs pretty frequently in teen relationships, especially when it becomes strained by the appearance of an infant on the scene.

While sitting through these presentations, I couldn’t help but want to stand up on my chair, all Norma Rae, and say: “It gets better.” 

Granted, I’m not the best at relationships. I honestly believe that no one is good at relationships. We all make our way through, trying to figure it out. Which, to be honest, is what I think life is. But one thing the presenter said that I’m still thinking about is about how we make sacrifices and compromises for another person, but they do the same. Not because we expect them to. But because that’s what you do. You both give 100%. Because that’s what it is. Living and sharing life with someone is messy. No doubt about it. But you extend grace, because that’s what it is. Not because the person owes you, but that’s the point of love.

Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth: ‘You owe me.’ Look what happens with a love like that - It lights up the whole sky - Hafiz.

As I looked over all these kids who have kids, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were actually listening. If something was making a dent. Then a hand shot up from a girl who said: “You know, I was watching Jerry Springer the other day, and he was talking exactly about this kind of stuff. And I got to thinking about how I want a man who treats me like a queen. But you know, I gotta treat him like a king too, you know?”

Yes. I know.