Raging, Ranting, Raving, and Rhapsodizing

Everyone is freaking out about Obama having won the presidency.  Some people are "yayy!!!" freaking out, and some people are "apocolypse" freaking out.  But everyone I know has some kind of very strong emotion about it.  Except me... I didn't get emotionally invested in this election, and I didn't fully decide to vote for McCain until a few weeks ago, so today is mostly another day.  I'm not a political person.

After reading about how Annalyse checks blogs compulsively, I've decided to post something tonight even though I wasn't originally planning on it.

My second week at work has been a lot better than my first.  One of the other teachers unexpectedly left, and they asked me to fill in on Monday in her classroom.  I told them I loved it so much I wanted to stay, thus, I am the new teacher for twelve wonderful 3 year olds.  This is the age group I have had the most experience with in the past and it's my favorite age group to work with.  I have had a phenomenal time getting to know them each individually and spending my days hanging out with them.  And, I haven't been bitten even once.

My first week of work at my new job has been great.  I share a classroom of toddlers (1 year olds) with another teacher; we have 3 girls and 5 boys.  I have to get up a lot earlier than I usually do, and I work a lot more hours than I used to when I was at the Lutheran Church.  But I come home feeling happy and energized, instead of drained and bored.  I have fun all day and the hours fly by.

Today is my last day working for the Lutheran Church! That's right, folks, no more pulling my hair out all day because the pastor's kids won't stop screaming and wailing and he won't pay attention to them. No more awkward people divulging random and/or irrelevant information to me completely unprovoked. No more bored Lutherans complaining because I forgot to capitalize some word in the liturgy this week. No more spending my days in a hundred year old building that smells just slightly of mold. And I'd like to be able to say no more ignorant people spelling my name "Rachael", even after being repeatedly corrected, but I know better than that.

Starting Monday, I'm going to be working at a childcare center. I wasn't actually looking for a new job, but God literally dropped the opportunity into my lap, and I got hired on the spot. I'm not sure if they've decided what age group to put me with, or what my days are going to look like, or even exactly how much I'm going to be paid... come to think of it, I'm not sure of a lot of things. But I am sure that the Lord arranged this, so it's hard to be worried about it.

The Pastor brought me a going away present. A bottle of Great Divide IPA, which I don't really like (I'm more of a Guinness girl), but it was a very nice gesture. Stephen says I should put some food coloring in it when I drink it, and make comments like, "This chocolate stout tastes suspiciously like a pale ale."

Oh, the excitement!

The prompts at Three Word Wednesday are:

dissolve
trinket
zest


Cheesecake

Judy used to be a passionate woman, full of joy and life. Everything was right, everything was sunny, and Judy felt it always would be. When Richard died, all of that changed. Her passion waned. Her once boundless enthusiasm dissolved slowly like some long lost trinket at the bottom of the sea, amidst the wreckage of a forgotten ship. The reality of the loss of her husband battered her like innumerable waves, and she felt that she would never love again. Eight years went by, and Judy kept mourning Richard, kept living life but not really living it, kept feeling sorry for herself.

Judy's fifty-sixth birthday found her standing alone in the self-help section at Barnes and Noble, wondering if any of the books could really help her find herself again. Judy began to feel eyes on her. Looking to her right, she saw him. A tall man of about 60, with more gray in his hair than brown, and well dressed. He was in the cooking section, holding open a cookbook. He noticed her looking back at him, and smiled.

"Maybe you can help me," he said open-endedly. Judy noticed his bare ring finger. She walked over to him, trying to appear casual. Her heart was fluttering, and she told herself that she was being silly and girlish.
"What are you making?"
"I thought I'd try my hand at a cheesecake. But I'm afraid I'm feeling a little overwhelmed." And he sounded overwhelmed. Judy glanced down at the recipe he held the book open to. New York Style.
"Any special occasion?" she searched, hoping against hope.
"No. I just needed to... well, I wanted to try something new. I've never baked anything," he half-muttered, and looked away.
After a moment, Judy said, "I happen to consider myself somewhat of an expert cheesecake baker, if you don't mind me saying so."
He grinned, and her eyes twinkled back at him. "I'd be honored to have the expert assist me. How about it?" he offered playfully.
"Well, come on, then," she laughed back as they made their way to the exit. "I like to add a little lemon zest in my cheesecake. Got any lemons?"
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Since James recently did a post about Kiwiology (not kiwiology... since kiwi's can't talk, of course), I have decided to follow in a similar vein. I present: Southernisms. Admittedly South Carolina is not quite as exotic as New Zealand, and we definitely don't have any hobbits or belrogs or rings of infinite power, nonetheless, it is where I live. So here are some words and phrases I have heard used in regular conversation since moving here.

Bless Your/Her/His Heart: Usually said in a pitiful or condescending way. "The poor thing just ain't pretty, bless her heart."

Ya'll: You All. A Quintessential Southernism.

Ain't: Are Not. Another Southern classic which has spread nation wide.

Fixin' to: Preparing to. "I'm fixin' to make me some fried chicken."

Over/Down Yonder: Over there, wherever. "We're goin' down yonder to the Bob Evans."

Whenever: Used in place of "when", referring to a specific incident or day. "I was so proud whenever my boy graduated from college."

A Whole Mess Of: A LOT. "I've got myself a whole mess a' fried chicken, I tell you what."

Up Under: This phrase is utterly nonsensical. "I'm gonna hafta get up under the house to do some work."

Cute As A Bug's Ear: Cute. Really cute. Adorable, even. I didn't know bug's had ears, I thought they had sonar or vibration sense or something, but whatever. "Cute as a bug's sonar sense mechanism" doesn't roll off the tongue quite as nicely.

Useful As A Trap Door In A Canoe: If you can't figure this one out, I'm not explaining.

Slipperier Than Snot On A Doorknob: A lovely, refined way to describe something which is slippery, be it figurative or otherwise.

Bo': Dude. Bro. Man. Our friend Scott uses this one a lot and it still sounds weird to me.

I Done...: Used in place of the pronoun "I". "I done told ya, woman." One time I was grocery shopping and was buying a single can of beer to put in chili. The woman behind me in line shouted, "That ain't my beer! I done quit drinkin!"

Smack-Dab in the Middle: Another one that just doesn't make sense to me. What the crap is a smack-dab?

Hanker: I want. "I've got a hankerin for some fried chicken."

Dadgum: Damn.

Dagnabbit: Damnit.

Plumb: Completely. "I'm plumb wore out from workin up under the house and eatin all that there fried chicken."

That'll Learn Me (or Learn You): That'll teach me. "That'll learn you not to eat a whole mess a' fried chicken and then work up under the house, bo'."

In the Woodshed: You are in trouble and you're gonna get beat. You even get to pick your own switch, according to my friend Kristen.

Double Negatives (didn't nobody go, hadn't ought): "Didn't nobody learn nothin from this here dadgum post?".

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Thomg will be picking the 3 weekly words over at Three Word Wednesday, and I've decided to give it a shot. The word prompts are Agree, Execute, and Providence.

A Self-Made Man

A young man sits on the steps leading up to the yawning mouth of Robinson Hall. In this building, his fate awaits him. The economics department of Brown University is housed here, and Ahmed has classes soon. But still, he sits on the steps, unmoving. It’s a beautiful early fall day in Providence, Rhode Island, but the sun is dark in Ahmed’s eyes.

“Ahmed, Brown is a good school,” Father had told him.

“I’m just not sure it’s where I want to go, sir.” he replied, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling.

“Son, I did not have these opportunities,” Father said forcefully. “Allah blessed me, and I was able to come to this great country as a young man, and make myself what I am today. You will follow in my footsteps.”

“Insha’Allah, Father. But…” Ahmed swallowed hard. “I’ve been accepted to the School of American Ballet, and-”

“I will not hear of it!” his father roared. “You shame me, Ahmed. I have allowed this hobby, this deviation long enough. You are going to have a real education. You are going to have a respectable education.”

“Yes, father.” And so he had agreed, and something inside of him had died.

Ahmed still sat, an island of indifference in the sea of activity around him. He remembers the day of his audition. He and Mother had gone behind Father's back to the school; how nervous he had been, but he had dazzled them. They told him he was the most brilliant dancer they had seen that year. They told him his pas brisé and tours l’air were executed perfectly. They told him they hadn’t seen a more elegant arabesque yet. They told him his passion shone when he danced.

Now Ahmed drops his head into his hands and takes a deep breath. He raises his head and looks up at the sun drifting from behind a wisp of clouds. He grabs his book bag, slowly stands up, and strides away from Robinson Hall.
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I just saw a clip of the first interview Sarah Palin has done since being chosen as McCain's running mate. Everything I've been hearing about how inexperienced she is... this interview didn't really help to settle those questions. There were a couple times when you could tell she has absolutely no idea what the interviewer was talking about. I felt awkward for her.

One time in high school (ok, let's be honest... LOTS of times), I hadn't finished an assignment... I think I was supposed to have read a book for class. I remember the teacher called on me and asked a question about the title character of the book. I remember how intensely embarrassed I was; I remember stammering and stuttering and finally mumbling some BS that I had read on the back cover synopsis of the book. I remember how obvious it was that I hadn't read it. All those feelings came rushing back to me as I listened to Palin stumble her way through this interview.

Charlie Gibson of ABC News: Do you agree with the Bush Doctrine?
Sarah Palin: (long pause, fidgeting, etc.)... In what respect, Charlie?
Gibson: Well, what do you interpret it to be?
Palin: .... .....His worldview.
Gibson: The Bush Doctrine, enunciated September 2002, before the Iraq war.
Palin: I believe that what President Bush has attempted to do is rid this world of Islamic extremism. Terrorists who are hell bent on destroying our nation…
Gibson: The Bush Doctrine, as I understand it, is that we have the right of anticipatory self-defense, that we have the right to a preemptive strike against any other country that we think is going to attack us. Do you agree with that?
Palin: Charlie, if there is legitimate and enough intelligence that tells us that a strike is imminent against American people, we have every right to defend our country.

You know her handlers are backstage freaking out the whole time.
"Crap, crap crap! Didn't anyone explain our foreign policy to this woman?"
"NO, we thought you did!"
"Well, I thought YOU were going to!"
"Epic Crap."

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I hate to categorize people. I'm very careful about the things I choose to define myself by and I try to be just as careful when identifying others.

Recently I was having a conversation with my psychologist friend and she used a term which I've found myself mentally referencing a lot lately: "black-and-white people", and conversely, "grey people". It's pretty self-explanatory. Black-and-white people tend to view the world in absolutes and (in my mind) also tend to be somewhat closed-minded. Grey people tend to take situations on a case by case basis and to see the grey areas. These are general terms- slippery terms- and I don't mean to say that one is better than the other. They're just rough appellations for part of the infinitely complex conditions of human relationship. With that in mind...

I'm a grey person (can you tell? no? the above paragraph took me half an hour). I believe in grey areas. I believe nothing is ever as simple as it seems; in my mind there's always more than one side to a story. I don't think opinions and experiences that differ with my own are any less valid. But there are a few black-and-white people in my life that I find endlessly frustrating. These people have a worldview that simply does not allow for the possibility on any opinion besides theirs. There are two ways with them: their way, and the wrong way. They are dogmatic in their convictions to the extent that they alienate others, making sweeping generalities and oversimplifications. There's no discussion with them, no free exchange of ideas, no civil agreement to disagree.

For example: I've known lots of non-Christians and for the most part we've been able to understand each other and respect each other. But I've known a few black-and-whites who will ask me about my faith, not for the purpose of gaining my perspective, or learning more about what we believe, but for the purpose of railing on me for being wrong or foolish or misguided or whatever they believe about Christianity because they've never given themselves the chance to hear one of us out. Maybe they saw a group of Christians (here, I'm using the term loosely) on the news, holding signs that say "god hates gays", and assumed that we're all that ignorant. We're not. Maybe they met a black-and-white Christian (haven't we all?) and assumed that we're all that imperious. We're not.

Anyway. I know I can't be the only one who has engaged in a "conversation" with a black-and-white type who happens to be very passionate about politics. So in this election season when tensions run high and November is on every one's mind and I still haven't decided for whom to cast my vote, I have decided to swear off of discussing the matter with that handful of people. I'm happy to listen to you with an open mind, and you ought to listen to me. If that's not going to happen, why should I bother with you?
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Stephen and I took our nephews Liam (3) and Colin (2) to the zoo on Saturday. They're remarkable children (perhaps I'm a bit biased), and both of them emit a constant stream of hilarious one-liners and unexpectedly profound observations. I loved just listening to them talk to each other in the back seat of the car.

In the morning, we had just gotten in the car and were discussing which animals we were excited about seeing at the zoo, when the following exchange took place:

Liam: I want to see the lions.
Colin: I wanna see the... giraffes!
Rachel: Ooh! Boys, remember last time when we got to feed the giraffes?
Both: Yeah!
Stephen: Maybe we'll get to feed them today.
Rachel: Liam, how would you feel about getting to feed the giraffes?
Liam: (matter-of-factly) I would feel fun about it.
Rachel and Stephen: !!!!!

The phrase is genius. But even better was the way he said it perfectly clearly, casually, and without missing a beat. It's my new favorite expression.
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Melissa tagged me and that just always makes me feel so special! Here are the rules:

Post the rules on your blog
Write 6 random things about yourself
Tag 6 people at the end of your post
If you're tagged, DO IT and pass on the tag


1. I'm just a little bit OCD (aren't we all?). I've written about this before. One way my OCD manifests is in the consumption of colored candy. Because, unlike most people, I can't just eat a bag of skittles. I must organize the skittles as I go along. If I have a handful of colored candy, I try to pick off the superfluous candies of each color till' I have the same amount of each color. Or, I will eat them so that I end up with an ascending number of each color (1 orange, 2 red, 3 green, 4 yellow... etc). This makes it very difficult for me to enjoy candy in dark movie theatres.

2. Some people like to put on soothing music if they're trying to nap (like Enya or something). I, on the other hand, think the perfect napping music is Metallica. Nothing helps me to relax better than the Black Album. During high school my parents would sometimes find me asleep (while purportedly studying) on top of my books with thrash metal playing loudly in the background.

3. I love to bellydance.

4. My dear dear sister Amy and I have a lot of really strange expressions that are really just inside jokes but we often use them in regular conversation with other people. I wonder... do they think I just used a real word that they don't know the definition of but they're too embarrassed to ask because they want to look intelligent? Or do we just look crazy? Regardless, our favorite word is ZONINO, an expression of celebration or happiness. Best used in conjunction with some kind of wild hand gesture. Well... I feel that everything is best used with some kind of wild hand gesture.

5. I eat Kashi cereal every single morning. I bring a few servings in a zip-lock bag with me whenever we go for a weekend roadtrip, and the first thing I do whenever we visit Denver is go straight to Whole Foods and buy a box or two. I'm like an old lady who just can't handle breaking from her routine.

6. On stereo systems that have a numeric volume display, I insist on setting the volume on a multiple of 5. I usually have the volume in my car at 10, and sometimes when Stephen drives he will casually reach over and turn it up to 12 or 13. I then sit in the passenger seat slowly descending into madness until I simply cannot bear it anymore, and turn it up to 15. Ahh... that's better.

Sadly, I can't think of 6 people who read my blog regularly enough to get this, but here are my 4 tags:

Amy
Jennifer
Lysie
Thomg

Share your idiosyncrasies with us!
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There are some people at the church doing construction work on the roof due to some hail damage we incurred recently. I should be more specific about what kind of people are here: men. Construction men. Construction men who were inexplicably given a key to my office. So I sit here in my isolated office which doesn't offer a view of the door, usually all alone, while a number of strange men have free access to my building.

Yesterday morning, one of them came in the the offices to use the restroom. He must not have realized I was here because he didn't bother to close the bathroom door. I had called out, "Good morning," because I thought it was the pastor, but Mr. Construction Man didn't hear me.

I heard him, though.
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I promised to post some artwork, and as I've been lazy lately and haven't done a whole lot of new work, I thought I should post an older piece. This is an 18'' x 24'' pencil study I did (I spent a little over an hour) on a photograph from National Geographic. I actually had to take a picture of it with my digital camera because it was so big. It was a sort of liberating piece for me. I tend to be a perfectionist so working on something so big was a challenge: I could either obsess over details, or I could interpret the photograph and have fun with it. This ended up being one of my favorite drawings I've done.

Allow me to engage in a little well-intentioned nepotism. My dear cousin Annalyse is working on a very cool project which I am now going to shamelessly plug.

Lysie works for YWAM (Youth With A Mission) in Tampa, FL. She is the assistant to the couple who head up the Tampa missions base, Art and Ellen Sanborn. In 2002, they produced a play called Judah Ben-Hur which opened in Singapore to great reviews. Now they are working to get Judah Ben-Hur on Broadway.

This play is a unique way to bring the gospel to countries that do not allow religious groups to come in and work, because Christianity is discouraged or illegal (like China or many countries in the middle east). Normally, they couldn't just go into some of these places and talk about Jesus. But if they come in to produce a play that's been on Broadway (even a very Christian one), well then... that's American entertainment! When they did Judah Ben-Hur in Singapore (I think) some rather important people received Christ as a result of seeing it.

In order to get it on Broadway, the Sanborns have to show possible investors that there is sufficient interest. So here's a clip of the play... there are more on youtube. The more views they get, the better it looks when they present to investors, so please view the clips and forward on to people who would be interested. Also, pray that the team would have favor as they work to get funding. For more info check out their website.



I can't say I'm a big fan of Broadway plays, but I'm a big fan of bringing the gospel to people who have never had the chance to hear it. I'm an excited supporter of what Lysie has been working so hard on for many months, and hope to post updates on their coming successes!

I've mentioned that I'm working on my business, but I don't think I've written about what I'm doing. My hope is to develop a business doing commissioned portraits. You give me a photograph, and I draw it, essentially. It's something I've always been good at and something I've always been passionate about. It's pretty wild to think that in high school I spent an unsettling majority of my time drawing, and now people would pay me money (real money!) for my work.

My first step is to build my portfolio, partly to have something to show off to potential customers, and partly to figure out how long it takes me to complete a piece. As I'm working on my portfolio, I'm realizing I need to challenge myself to do much more detailed work than I have before. My audience is no longer myself and whoever I might show my sketchbook to. Now I'm drawing for people who know the subject intimately- a mother, a husband, whatever. In other words, I'm going to be doing work that will be subject to a much more critical and discerning eye. Right now, my drawing is probably good enough to impress most people. But is it good enough that a mother will look at it and see her child? Or will she see a face that looks nice but just isn't quite right?

Honestly, I have doubts from time to time if I'm good enough to produce art for that audience. And it's scary to put so much of yourself on a piece of paper and then "put it out there" to be criticized and possibly rejected. This is so new for me and I just don't know what to expect. But the more time I spend on a piece, the better it gets. The more hours I spend working every week, the better my work gets. I'm looking at this as an opportunity to develop my skills and bring them to a new level of maturity.

Wow. I haven't posted anything since February. That is ridiculous. Probably most of the people who used to read my blog stopped hoping for a new post a long time ago.

If the Pastor isn't here with his kids and his bad attitude, I'm usually all alone, which is fine with me. Every so often, though, one of the church members will stop by for one reason or another and our conversations are always so special (like, short-bus-special).

This church has been here for almost a century, and most of its members live on land that's been passed down through generations and only recently has been engulfed by the expansion of the city. Many of them live on streets that were named after their families, next to their brothers and sisters and parents and whoever. Apparently there's another Lutheran church here on land that the King of England once gave them, and they've been there longer than we've had a country. This isn't really important to my point, I just think it's just amazing.

Anyway, most of the people I've met are very nice, very Southern, and very slightly awkward. But there's one couple who are SUPER awkward. On the first day I met them, the wife introduced herself and explained that they were there to clean the church. I said, "Ok, great. I'm Rachel, it's nice to meet you." She responded, "I know who you are!" (like a teenage girl that's telling her parents something so obvious) and turned and walked away. Her husband just grinned, waved at me, and followed her. So. Wierd.

I sat in stunned silence for a few moments. I wasn't sure what had just happened. I'm still not sure.

I work part-time as the secretary for a small church. It's a nice job- I've got flexible hours, only work 4 days a week, and it allows me to be autonomous and creative. Sometimes I get the chance to write or edit material for church publications, which I love doing. It may not be the most stimulating job I've ever had, but it's not something I dread every morning. (Plus, I get to wear jeans!)

You know I'm not the complaining type (pause as laughter subsides...), but there is one facet of my job which makes it very stressful. The pastor of the church brings his 3 small daughters to work with him. Evidently, childcare is not something within his family's budget, but I'm getting to the point that I'd almost offer to pay for it myself. When I interviewed for the job, I was asked if I like kids, to which I responded that I do, very much (a true statement). She told me that the pastor brings his kids to the office "every once in a while" (a true but very misleading statement).

In reality, he brings 3 or his 4 kids to the office probably 2 or 3 days every week. He has twin girls, a year and a half old- we'll call them red fish and blue fish. He also has a 3 year old girl- we'll call her the tornado. He also has a son who is school-aged and who, on the one occasion I met him, showed me his transformer toy and spoke elaborately about it as he manipulated it, and then tossed it on my desk and ran off. Both the older children have noticeable speech impediments, and from what I've seen, all three of the girls are well behind where they ought to be for their age, developmentally speaking.

They tear around the office, dig through the trash, put things in the toilets, put things in their mouths, and make a general mess, yelling and screaming and crying all the while. I was wholly unprepared for what was about to happen the first time he brought them in. By the time they were gone, I had glue and marker all over my desk, parts of my printer were dismantled, there was probably a whole muffins' worth of crumbs distributed evenly over my floor, a ripped up kids book on the floor, and colored on paper glued onto my other desk. Probably every 2 or 3 minutes (throughout the whole day), one of the twins will erupt spontaneously into a kind of shrieking/crying that... there's just a quality to this crying that cannot be put into words... it's unthinkable, indescribable. It HURTS to listen to. The tornado is constantly pushing the twins, taking things from them, of locking them out of rooms. Every afternoon, when it's time to go, the tornado throws herself on the ground and throws a dramatic-full-on-losing-her-little-three-year-old-mind-fit.

I believe I'm certainly warranted a level of displeasure in having to tolerate this at work, but surprisingly, I really do like these kids. Their behavior is simply a manifestly obvious result of the very bad parenting that they receive, and every day I like the pastor I work for less and less. I'm agitated by the crying, the screaming, the mess every day and often go home with headaches, but it's worse for me to have to listen to the way dad talks to his little girls all day. It really disturbs me. I speak more kindly to my dog that this guy does to his own flesh and blood.

Just today, he was sweeping the hallway. Red Fish stood unmoving in front of him, smiling and pointing and him. Does he kindly ask her to move, or tenderly scoot her out of the way, or (gasp!) take this opportunity to love on his child? Of course not. "Move," he says (she does not). "Red Fish, move!" Suddenly another issue presents itself. Blue Fish has wandered into the men's room and is playing with the toilet brush. Does he issue a gentle admonishment? Does he laugh it off and explain that the bathrooms are not for playing in, helping her wash her hands? Not our guy. "NO!" he shouts, snatching the toilet brush from little blue, and stalks from the hallway, leaving her standing in the bathroom and staring after his retreating figure. In fact, he barely ever uses their names, referring to them collectively as "ladies", if he even refers to them at all. Just now one the babies knocked something off his desk. He'll responds with "No, no, no, no, no, blue fish!"

Seriously, I'm so mad just after proof reading this post that I don't know what to do with myself. Every day I come in with a fresh resolution that I'll find something, anything positive in this man's demeanor towards his children, and every day I go home frustrated because there's nothing.

It has been 3 months since I've posted anything. You can see how my blogging has slowly tapered off since April when I got married, then got a new job, then moved to South Carolina. It's not like I've been too busy- I work 20 hours a week at a small church, and Stephen works the same or less in an average week. It's just that I haven't had anything to write about that didn't make me feel more depressed. Somehow, not blogging about my life for the past 3 months has helped me to avoid the reality that life is still here to live, in South Carolina just as in Colorado, whether I like it or not.

I was touched by the comments I've gotten on my last post wondering where I am and wishing me Merry Christmas. I'm still alive, and still, as always, in transition.

I spent several months anticipating our trip to Denver for Christmas, so a part of me felt that we were only living in our new house in a new city temporarily, and we would be getting back home soon. We were in Denver for 2 weeks over Christmas, which was sweet but surreal. Driving back to SC was like moving away all over again. Now that we're back, I can't escape the fact that THIS is supposed to be my home now.

And now I'm faced with two distinct options: I can either keep wasting my time and energy on missing everything I left behind, or I can embrace and make the most of what I have available to me here. The choice seems obvious to a rational person, but I'm still vacillating between the two.

I'm working another boring part time job which allows me copious amounts of time on the internet, and I had forgotten how cathartic this is for me, so hopefully I'll be back on here soon to tell you which of two options I'm going to go with.