Mini Real World: Austin

My New and Improved Blog

2006-11-22T06:10:00.000-08:00

No, I didn't die. I created a new blog, one that I prefer, and will continue to update regularly. You'll like it better, or your money back.

www.shopgirlwonders.blogspot.com

Come see the new place!

National Coming Out Day...

2006-10-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

In the past few days at work, I have been involved in conversations regarding sexuality with different individuals on different occassions. I'm not sure why our afternoon chats have circled this subject, but upon discovering that today was "National Coming Out Day," I decided to read up on this matter. As you can imagine, the central focus points of our talks have been "Chance or Choice?" and "Faith and Homosexuality." A link on Yahoo.com led me to find this entry that I think every open minded Christian person should read.

God and Gays and Bears, Oh My!
By Randy

"All of my life, I was taught that homosexuality was a choice. I grew up in a conservative Christian atmosphere. I was never forced into it. It was my faith, and the idea that being gay was a choice was a part of that faith, not just a dictate from an authority figure.

However, one message from my church that I never understood was the constant warnings to behave once my hormones kicked in. I didn't feel any desire to date females! Dates were boring. Teen-age pregnancies baffled me. In fact, because I didn't understand them, I came down hard on people who expected a baby before they were married. How could they not control themselves? Ridiculous, I thought.

I attended a fundamentalist college. Even in that conservative atmosphere, though, I started to have questions, especially when I realized that I found the company of burly bearded types enjoyable. I started wondering what it would be like if, in a different universe, of course, I could go home and live with one of those teddy bearish men. Wouldn't that be cool? But the thought of men living together as partners was something I also thought was ridiculous.

I graduated college very confused, and began working at a treatment facility for juvenile offenders. One day, a kid who acknowledged he was gay came for help. But the help was with his criminal issues, not help in changing from gay to straight. The staff was split right down the middle. Half of them wanted to cure him of his gayness. The other half said he was only there to work on his issues, and that being gay wasn't one of those. I didn't know what to think. Somewhere inside, though, I knew the methods we used at the unit were not ones that would treat a gay person. This wasn't an addiction. This wasn't something he had chosen or had been tricked into. This was just the way he (and I) had always been. But for me, being gay and Christian just wasn't in the plan.

I soon switched to working nights at another program so I could be alone with my thoughts and work through my inner anxieties. I was a Christian and that wasn't going to change. But I needed to know, what was this other part of me? Did God condemn it? If he did, how did I end up with it? I couldn't imagine having love and happiness in my life if I thought God had created something he hated.

But, how could I be gay? I surfed some gay websites, but nothing about those men seemed to be like me. Young-looking, well-coiffed men didn't appeal to me, I didn't want to go clubbing every night and I didn't secretly want to be Cher. How could I really be gay?

Then one night, I discovered "bears" -- gay men who embraced their masculinity. Guys who just happened to find other guys -- even the chunky, teddy bearish ones -- attractive. I had finally discovered that being gay wasn't all about embracing a stereotype. There are as many different types of gay people as straight people.

I didn't exactly fly out of the closet. For one, I was teaching in a place that would not have been pleased had I come out. I also didn't feel comfortable acting on my orientation because I had yet to reconcile it with my faith. But it was important to me to be honest with myself and with the people I trusted as my friends.

So I took the plunge and told four people in one weekend. I wanted to make sure if one of them rejected me, that I'd have several others who backed me up. But I was scared. They were all from the same background as me. I remembered how judgmental I had been of teen-age pregnancies. They had no reason to understand my point of view. What would stop them from having the same knee-jerk reaction I had as a teen?

I shouldn't have worried! The reactions ranged from tolerance to acceptance. One of them even came out to me. At the time, I told them I planned to be celibate for life. I needed time to explore where my faith, sexuality and identity all came together. Slowly, I came out to more and more people, because I was beginning to like who I was becoming.

Now I'm out to just about everyone who matters in my life. I have begun to date and hope to someday find a partner. Coming out is a process which can take years, but it's important to come out in your own way and in your own time. The feeling of understanding yourself, of knowing there are other people like you out there, of being able to enjoy all natural sides of you, of looking forward to a possible future partnership -- these are the gifts that coming out gives to you. You don't have to trash your faith or your friends in the process. But you do need to respect yourself and trust those around you enough to take the plunge."

I hope that, at the least, this confession from a fellow Christian brother has helped to broaden your perspective.

Viva Vivo!

2006-10-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

I will apologize if this blog strikes some of you as a bit shallow. As much as I would like to believe that I could keep up this series of "deep thoughts" blogs, one must rest the ol' noggin from time to time. So, for those of you seeking a read that will eventually stir those stagnant waters of your cerebellum: my piece does not qualify. Certainly stay tuned for next week when I answer some of history's most mind-boggling conundrums.

This weekend I ate at a great little find in southern Austin. It's just off I-35, on that shady east side that grandma warned you about. Grandma's warnings, however, were unwarranted as the area, closely bordering the UT stadium's parking lot, is hardly threatening. The restaurant is called Vivo, and is a lovely tribute to well-executed Tex Mex and local art and flair. Famous for its outdoor patio, boasting flora and fauna of various varieties, the indoor seating is equally appealing.

The booths and tables within Vivo nestle below well-lit paintings of seductive and curvaceous women, no strangers to the tasty refried fare. Visiting on a Saturday night, a DJ prepared for evening excitement as he closely monitored the sounds and lights projected onto the ceiling. The service was good, and the pre-meal chips and salsa were exceptional. The salsa had the kind of spicy zing that only locals could stand to double-dip. Upon the suggestion of my companion, I doubtfully ordered the $8.95 margarita. Arriving with a flower, the margarita was delicious, though I still question such alcohol-based expenditures. Now if someone were to buy one for me, my guilt would be swallowed with the last pinch of salt.

After eating a tasty plate of nachos (before which I tossed my diet promptly onto the outdoor patio), my bill arrived with a lovely rose. Every lady gets one, and that reason, amongst others, is why Vivo's gets Christy's "Best Date Spot" award. Upon retreating to the bathroom, I discovered another pleasant surprise. The bathroom sinks were filled with ice cubes and ruby red rose petals. But beware: leaning too close to the counter definitely threatens dryness. Generally, this kind of activity requires no warning, but I'm kind of a clumsy bumpkin.

Anyway, I had a great time and would definitely try the place again with a large group. I can hardly imagine that anyone would be hesitant to deliver top marks for the fine food and unique surroundings. And maybe next time, somebody else will flip the drink bill :)

Finally, a great restaurant that the whole world doesn't know about!

Bailamos

2006-09-18T06:50:00.000-07:00

As I write this morning at 8:45 am, it's important to note that I went to bed not so long ago. I was up late last night in celebration of cultural unity through dance. No, I did not visit a museum or attend a festival in honor of movement. I attended the Move Tour: Austin, which was hosted by Mr. Damian Marley, descendant of Bob (that lover of drums, weed, and white women). The event was highly advertised exclusively on MySpace.com and invited one and all to come enjoy the "The Show, The Contest, and The Party" at the 6th Street club "Bourbon Rocks."

As many of you know, I love to dance, and while I arrived perfectly aware that failure was in my future, I came ready to bring whatever "heat" a suburban Christian white girl could muster. The ads said to arrive at 8pm if you intended to compete, and the early crowd was composed largely of breakers (break dancers). The tricks and talent that were present left me in awe. People spinning on their heads for a full 8 seconds, no hands, or hopping one-armed across the length of the dance floor prevailed. Amazing. (By the way, I did not arrive alone, and had my girl and cheerleader, Heather Lemmons, guarding my back). I did not ever feel unsafe, however, as every person we met was sweet and genuine, and just came to show their moves.

I met one girl named Tawny, a young red-head who hoped her 14 years of professional jazz and ballet training might give her an edge over the breakers and poppers. I also met Leah, a very young woman and dance teacher/choreographer, who it was later revealed by the announcer was one of the Mama's in the competition. The actual competition was generally friendly and completely amazing. Dance moves that generally appear out-of-this-world on the average club dancefloor were barely noticed as the 'bar of extremity' was constantly raised higher and higher. My dance number was weak, and as I knew, I was not destined to compete in the second round. However, my status as a competitor provided me a great view of the remaining competition.

I have to say, Mr. Marley has the right idea. I can hardly imagine any other context in which people from age 16 to 28 would all unite to encourage the artistic efforts of those around them. Everyone was passing around cards, inviting others to attend their classes and improve their skills in a professional atmosphere. Also, midway through the contest, the announcer had everyone turn to the person to his/her left AND right and say "What's up?" and shake hands. I don't wanna say that it felt like a strangley familiar club meeting, but I certainly haven't had as much conversation with complete strangers in a very long time.

All in all, I left the competition very impressed with everyone that I met. People put time into their art, and had obviously been looking for a forum to show what all their efforts had contributed to. Of course I didn't win, but I did represent Abilene and all of us confused Caucasian girls who have been practicing our hip-hop moves in the bathroom mirror ever since we can remember. I wasn't laughed off stage either.

If you want to see more, there will be a documentary coming out once the Move Tour has completed its run across the US. The nationals will be held in Hawaii. Also, for some great video of some of the judges (FYI, none of this video pertains to judges in attendance at the Austin round) please follow this link:

http://www.theefourhundred.com/flyers/MTjudges.htm

I hope you've all enjoyed this installment of my blog and hope that you don't find it contradictory to my previous, more religioos based blogs. If you think dance is sinful, that's your business, but not EVERYONE can draw or play an instrument as a means of self-expression. Some of us have to rely on our truth-telling hips.

Is It Just Me...Or...?

2006-09-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or are the little sisters of my generation (girls between ages 9 and 14) becoming more sex-crazed by the minute? It seems that in the past few weeks I have noted, on various occasions, that parents in America are raising their daughters to be tarts. No, not the sweet, dimpled, sugar-coated tarts of one Little Debbie. The pre-teens of today, most specifically the female populace, are sipping from a school fountain of tainted water, constantly being filled with poor messages, and learning to spit them back out in turn.

While passing through the parking lot of my local HEB, I could hear the high-pitched croon of a little girl singing along to Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie," never missing a beat or lyric. Also, at the apartment pool down the street, I eavesdropped as two bikini clad 12-year-olds quoted the most inappropriate of lines from "Bring It On." And getting dressed in the room of my friend's teenage daughter, I noted a mini-poster, hand-drawn with Crayola magic markers, stating "How come every time you come around, my London Bridge make you wanna go down?" (a lyric from Fergie's new hit single). The most offensive part of this oh-so-innocent looking doodle was the underlining of 'wanna go down,' a reference of which I'm certain she was unaware.

Call me ignorant but I must say, I have been taken aback by these examples of poor parental control. I know, I know, we cannot lock our daughters in their bedrooms until they turn 18, but I also don't think that we should allow the standards of society to designate the purity of our children. Being so constantly bombarded by songs and shows preaching "The Gospel of Sexy," it is no wonder that children are engaging in the sexual acts of their hardly adult role models. I mean, excuse me, but when did it become necessary for a 13-year-old to have a flat belly to flatter the fit of her "ultra low-rise" jeans? I was wearing elastic waistbands at that age!

So, while the entire northern hemisphere realizes that I do not want to have children, on the off chance that it DOES happen, I fully plan to stick to this "plan for pre-teen purity."

1. My daughter will not own a radio. All of her music will be store bought by myself.

2. My daughter will not own a computer. She may text message me into the poor house, but she will not play on the internet. She'll learn at the school library anyway.

3. The phrases "tiny fit," "low rise," and "deep V" will never appear on the tags of her clothes. Style does not equal sex. Clothes should not act as an advertisement.

4. There will be no channel surfing. I will specifically TiVo the shows my daughter is permitted to watch and she may only watch those shows in our house. When staying at a friends house...forget it. She's staying home.

That's it for now. If you think I'm being extreme, do yourself a favor and rent "Thirteen." And then call me if you ever let YOUR daughter out of the house again.

A Loss of Ceremony

2006-08-25T20:18:00.000-07:00

Admittedly, the book "Looking for Mary" is not a long one, but as I have become a less than devoted reader (shame on me), I am continuing to plow through and am finding more things to consider the further I read. One recurring theme throughout the book is that of the importance of the rosary to Catholocism. The rosary is two things. First, it is a lengthy and regimented list of prayers, which varies depending on the day of the week. These prayers reflect upon the miracles and mysteries of Christ, intermixed between some, and I repeat, some of the following prayers...

"Glory be to the Father"
Glory be to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. World without end. Amen.

"Hail Mary"
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Secondly, the rosary defines the set of beads which Catholics use to guide them in remembering these prayers and the order in which they are to be said. The author of "Looking for Mary," even in times of spiritual struggle, always turned to her rosary beads as a means of giving complete focus to God. Also, by having these prayers memorized and ingrained in her mind, the words became a kind of mantra through which she was able to become open to God's words for her.

In reading about the rosary, I must say I became a bit jealous of this tradition. In the Protestant church, and especially within the Church of Christ, we have very little ceremony. We are not given to visual aids in the process of worship, which is evident by our church buildings, which draw less attention to God and more pointedly speak to the youth group's need to have a top-of-the-line basketball court and rec center. The Church of Christ seems to fear things like icons and stained-glass depictions of the crucifixion as they have become forever connected with the Catholic church. Mind you, the next time I attend church, I will be shocked if the revenues from our collection go towards a mural of The Passion (no children, not the Mel Gibson movie...the real deal).

However, I do think that there is something to be said for Christ-bearing insignia that can guide one through worship. It can be very easy to become distracted, and for one's mind to swirl during prayer in endless cycles, only some of which even border on something genuinely religious. Also, in having so many prayers memorized, a believer forever has a place to fall back on, a safe monologue to the Lord that can hold strong through tragedy and victory both.

Taking the lead from Beverly, I've designed a system so simplistic and child-like, it's downright embarrassing to share...but if it helps ANYONE...then it's worth it. Anyway, I use my ten fingers as guidance: two prayers of thanksgiving, two prayers of confession, two prayers for me, two prayers for friends/family, and two for the well-being of the world. I'm not saying my way is best, but since I'm kind of spiritually slow....you get the idea. And perhaps it wouldn't be bad to memorize some of the rosary prayers to have on hand, when my mind is too bewildered to create coherent thoughts.

Oh, and, in case you haven't figured it out by now, I HIGHLY suggest this book...don't be put off by the portrait of Mary on the cover. Embrace symbolism.

Strange Coincidence

2006-08-14T08:33:00.000-07:00

So, I've been reading this book called "Looking for Mary: (Or the Blessed Mother and Me)." No, I have not decided to convert to Catholicism, though it probably wouldn't be the worst thing in the world either. The book is an autobiographical account of one woman's return to her faith and her adoration of Mary and her miraculous works. The author also wrote "Riding in Cars with Boys," more popularly recognized its cinematic star, Drew Barrymore. That book describes her experience as a 17-year-old unwed mother. Beverly (the author) looks to Mary as an example of the ultimate mother, who universally draws the needy and desperate to her side for relief and commune with her holy Son.

Beverly's career as a journalist, combined with her faith, leads her to travel the country and the world, interviewing the followers of Mary and those who unite at locations where she is regularly seen...yes, seen. The appearances of Mary still continue today, in big cities and rural locations, by believers and non-believers alike. One thread that seems to bind all of Mary's followers together, Beverly soon realizes, is the fact that Mary comes when people are at their worst, and her power provides undeniable proof of her presence. The accounts are interesting and unexplainable when using subjective reasoning.

In church yesterday (by the way, I've started attending The Church at Canyon Creek, and I really enjoy it) the Bible class teacher had everyone describe their "Come to Jesus" moment. One girl prefaced her story by saying, this is really silly, but...

Cathy (we will call her) had reached rock bottom. She had a very low-paying job, could not afford a car, nor a phone, and spent some afternoons picking up dropped change in parking lots and gas stations. One day she realized she had lost her keys. It was a Sunday night, and she didn't have a key to her apartment, whose office was closed. She had no phone to call anyone on, and no money for a locksmith. She slept in front of her apartment door on the floor. The next morning, while walking to work, she said to God, "If you can find me my keys, I will believe in You forever and make some changes so I can learn more about You." And at a busy intersection, in the middle of the street, she saw her keys glinting in the sunlight. She didn't know why or how, but there they were, waiting for her.

And that did it for Cathy. She started actively looking for a church and trying to read and know more about her Miracle Worker. She moved to Austin, where her life situation improved and where she currently works with a staff composed largely of fellow believers.

I think the important thing we can take away from this is that a lot of us make promises to God, promises for personal change or greater hunger for Him, and few of us follow through. Must we be brought to the depths of darkness and despair to realize His presence in our lives, His closeness, that can drop a pair of keys from the sky and leave them shining before our very feet? Its a hard thing to grasp, not because it requires great faith, which many of us have, but because it says without a doubt that God is not only there for the good, but for the bad. His ear is pressed against our lips when we mutter unclean words or laugh at the misfortune of others. His hand is in ours when we walk to places we shouldn't or drink things that have no place in His holy body. His palm is pressed against our back when we stroll past hungry people, our pockets full of lunch money.

So, it's easier to deny this reality. It's easier to look up, up, up, so high in the clouds, and smile, and think "Oh God, you're so beautiful up in heaven." But to believe that He's all around is to change your every move to make sure you never stray from His shadow.

Things a Changin'

2006-08-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, Mama and Daddy Weathers came to visit their big girl in Austin, to make sure she was had a snug bed, food to eat, and little danger of accidental impregnation. We had a good time, and basically enjoyed each other's company with some relaxed tourism.

It was sad to see them go, knowing that for once in my life I won't be able to retreat to their home after a quick ten minute drive. My residence in Abilene through my college years created a false sense of adulthood. I've gained new respect for those who flee their homes at 18 and take full responsibily for their own well-being and survival thereafter.

Sometimes I wonder if the Europeans have got the right idea when generations of a family-line continue to live in the same neighborhood year after year. There is a level of safety and security there, but also a level of dependence that makes me uncomfortable. I would like to imagine that without or without the close proximity of a loved one, I could make ends meet and balance my life in a functional and fluid manner. However, in thinking about having children, I think Americans need to realize that it does indeed "take a village" to ensure a child will find the resources and support necessary to a healthy adulthood.

A woman on Dr. Phil recently sold all of her businesses and used the revenue to create a kind of village for foster parents and their children. This circle of adults are happier and find that no longer do they find parenthood the kind of solo personal battle that it once was. The children are glad to know that not only are they not alone in their circumstances, but they have non-parent adults who are close by to show them additional love.

So while independence is good, there is something to be said for community. It's important to know that as an adult, you have a sense of self and sufficiency. However, it's also important to understand that no man is an island, and when that island is covered with screaming, hungry kiddos, it's always better to have a bridge.

In the end, I'm not certain if I'll try to make my career path turn northwest towards the home of my parents. I do plan to find a career that involves long summer vacations and plenty of time to take a break and hang out with the nice folks that so generously brought me into the world. They've changed over the years, especially in light of this new chapter in their lives (post-children). I find it interesting getting to know them again, realizing just how querky they really are, and finding my new niche with them as an individual entity. I feel like a soap-opera actor who has been re-cast, and I'm enjoying the new scripts thus far.

Shedding New Light

2006-07-25T21:58:00.000-07:00

Today was a day of realization. First off, I helped an 85-year-old woman shop for a swimsuit. She was bright-eyed and ready for anything, and I did my best to treat her the way I'd want to be treated once I had reached that age. She moved a bit slowly and I felt bad about bringing her so many options to change into, but she really didn't mind. She needed a suit so she could go hot-tubbing with her husband. That's right. Anyone who knows me has heard me utter these words of truth:

The key to a successful marriage is honesty and a hot tub.

My words were proven today. Anyway, looking at the nearly naked body of this 85-year-old woman gave me new perspective on what's important and what's just plain silly. There are things that aren't worth thinking about but seem to occupy my mind way beyond the subjects that deserve my full and undivided attention. This woman probably couldn't recall her worries from age 23 if you put her under hypnosis. They just don't matter nor have lifelong ramifications, for the most part. So, there was that.

Later, during a late-night conversation over IM, I was trying to explain to a young man about the reasoning of women in relationships. I told him that women just want to know that somebody thought they were the best, even if they no longer have romantic interest in the men confessing these thoughts. A women just can't sleep at night till she knows SOMEBODY that she loved, for one moment in his life, thought that she was his sun and moon.

I proceeded to say that in my relationships, I've always looked to build my love on the sand so that I could blame environmental elements for the inevitable downfall. Reach for the stars and when you don't touch them, even you won't be surprised AND no one can fault you for being human. I've realized that I've never tried to manage a realistic romantic relationship because I knew I would eventually crash and burn in my attempt. So, yeah, today I realized that as well.

I guess you could say that today I came to a Dysfunction Junction.

You would think that the first experience would cancel out the second; that my realization about the unimportance of my current concerns would cause me to totally disregard my later realization (errrr...my 23-year-old concern). And in a way, I guess I figure that things will work themselves out in good time, just hopefully before I have to use the assistance of a 'shop girl' to cram my excess back flesh into the rear of my swimsuit.

In the name of the Blog

2006-07-20T17:59:00.000-07:00

So, according to my lovely/loving brother, one must blog by obligation once a week. I must say, I beg to differ. I've always supported quality over quantity, however, I have once again fallen prey to sibling-pressure (which can also mean that your sibling is sitting on any part of your body to forcefully inflict undue pain).

Speaking of pain, I'm not gonna lie...I'm in some. Allow me to explain. It all started when my friend Erin came to visit.

Since I had to work on Monday, Erin and I started our escapade that night, exploring a local/bar restaurant with a special: burger and fries for $2.99. Do I generally eat this fare? No. However, as a single woman, I fully embrace any meal that will keep both my belly and my pockets full. The place, a neighborhood "hot spot" for the over-30 crowd, exceeded my expectations with an atmosphere that was only semi-innappropriate for family gatherings. After our meal, Erin and I headed to the Alamo Drafthouse to meet the Benaglio family (aka Cal's kin) for a viewing of "Nacho Libre." While the movie definitely catered to the adolescent cravings of 14-yr-old boys, I will say that I thought it painted a realistic portrait of Mexico and its people. The casting was very realistic, with every crowd being dotted with wall-eyed children or women with cleft-pallates. Also, the austere and serious nature of these people was pin-pointed and highlighted, something few films attempt. Also, Jack Black played the role to hilarious perfection (not that I'm biased...MARRY ME JACK!)

The next day Erin and I headed to the Arboretum to browse and tour the area...and my job. After a lunch at Thundercloud Subs we headed home to dress and prep for a day AT THE LAKE. Since Cal, Elliott, and I were all off, amazingly, we went out and spent some time tubing around. As you should all know, I have always wanted to surf, so in the name of gaining similar water knowledge, I agreed to give wakeboarding a whirl. After positioning myself according to Elliott's instructions, the motor was gunned. I, however, so focused on keeping my body tight and leaned back, neglected to position my hands above the board...thus, my right pinkey finger became pinned between the handle and board, and I was unable to remove it for a bit. Once retrieved, my finger automatically turned purple, bloody, with a nail the color of ripened blueberries. Needless to say, I called it quits quite promptly after my virgin attempt.

And there you have it. I came, I saw, I didn't cry, but I did vow that while wakeboarding is out, surfing is definitely in. On the way back to the car, Erin stopped dead in her tracks. I honestly believed, in my constant health paranoia, that she might be experiencing a standing blackout or seizure. What she was in fact experiencing was the gross realization that she had locked the keys to her car safely in the front seat. Luckily, I had left my window open just enough to fish around with a stick and unhidge the manual lock. Disaster avoided...err...ammended.

Well, I hope you've enjoyed this extremely shallow installment on my blog. Mark and Stephanie are visiting this weekend, so I'm going to try to keep it in control by avoiding alcohol and boys with tats. However, I will not avoid drunken boys who will drive me to get a tat (aka tattoo). Pray for safety and moderation.

that God might smite us all...

2006-07-11T06:37:00.000-07:00

Louis Vuitton.

This name has plagued me for years and as of late, has become a powerful and accurate symbol of all that is problematic in our culture. The story behind the company's success has the kind of romantic old-world feel that one might discover in a re-reading of "Madame Bovary," with rolling French countrysides and a time-honored familial devotion to quality. However, today even a small token of the Vuitton namesake might leave an enduring scar on one's credit rating. To purchase Vuitton's epic monogrammed wallet, measuring in at a demure 4" x 4" inches, one must spend $500 (source: exluxury.com ).

I would say that I wonder what Jesus thinks about this, but I can guess exactly, without question, His sentiments. I think, originally, Jesus might "forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do." But ignorance only lasts so long, and when an artist like Sarah McLachlan can make a music video ( http://www.worldonfire.ca/ ) in which she breaks down, item by item, where the money for a $150,000 video could be going...one's ignorance is called into question. When one prefers to wrap her hand securely around the handle of handmade French leather, she is essentially delivering a sucker-punch to the inflated stomach of the collective hungry.

http://www.care.org/getinvolved/iampowerful/default.asp
$250 can build two wells to provide safe drinking water for 10 families

I don't mean to harp on these kinds of issues, but in my work, there is a recurring theme of selfishness that regularly brings bile to my throat. Do is send my every spare cent in a tiny envelope addressed "Hungry African Kids"? No, sadly, I do not. However, I refuse to see the economically elite as anything better than a group of spoiled children whose ill-begotten monetary funds purchase such obvious calling-cards as monogrammed "LV" bags. By the way, I'm pretty sure the gates of hell will be blazing with the mark of those infamous initials.

Fourth of July

2006-07-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

So, I had a pleasant 4th of July. As many of you know, "Just Add Water" was open for the holiday, and as you can imagine we were not busy in the least. I probably sold like 2 swimsuits in 6 hours. Oh well. It was a good opportunity to bond with my equally bored and desperate-to-leave coworkers. We did close early, in honor of our company not having to pay us on the hour for no reason at all.

After I got off, Elliott, Brandi, and I headed out to the lake to meet up with Cal, Mike Benaglio, and friends. We spun around in the boat a few times, with some of the gang taking to the water for a little tubing fun. It was a cloudy and wet, though, and I hardly felt the need to strip down and enter the choppy waters of the lake.

We drove home afterwards to find our neighborhood in a cloud of fog. The night before, our friendly neighbor stopped by to chat with us, warning us of the impending shenanigans of our surrounding streetmates. The man, who we'd previously met with his family, now approached us with a fowl-mouthed, relaxed sense of humor...a state soon explained when he noted that his wife and kids were currently out of town. Haha. (Typical man, hanging out with the college kids whenever he gets the shot.) Anyway, apparently the Millwood area has made an unspoken promise to invest 1/3 of their income for the month of July in elaborate fireworks. It was absolutely unreal, with random people sitting in lawnchairs in our frontyard, watching the show.

We had a little fun of our own that climaxed when a huge box o' firepower tipped over and began shooting neighborhood children. We literally "lit a fire under them" as they "hauled hiney" clear across the block to escape a tragic burn injury. It was hilarious. Hope you all had a fun and reasonably safe day celebrating our country's independence and our freedom to spend inane quantities of money on Chinese-made entertainment artillery.

Love in the Time of Cholera

2006-06-29T20:03:00.000-07:00

It is 10:05pm and I just finised eating dinner after a long day at the swimsuit shop. My day was full of returned items and dissatisfied customers, not due to a lack of hard work on my part, but our quickly decreasing inventory. Regardless, the great thing about the world of retail is that there is so much coming and going, you hardly remember the things that made you SO mad just 5 minutes ago. However, the positive feedback sticks with you, including one woman's comment that she was going to send all her friends to me for swimsuits :)

In recent news, you might notice a change in the tone of my upcoming blogs, due to some important factors. In previous entries, I have openly discussed the problematic nature of my household, describing specific offenses of my roommates. This trend, however, will stop here. Part of my reasoning in this decision is based on the specific requests of my roommates to 'stop airing our dirty laundry' to the public.

The second motivating factor in this decision was derived from a sermon I heard this past Sunday while attending "University Avenue Church of Christ." Regarding the church, it has a low attendance (especially during the summer), but is filled with very friendly and welcoming members, all of whom were very interested to learn more about me and get me involved in their church. I plan to continue to attend this church in hopes that I can develop new relationships with some of their twenty-something members. Now, regarding the sermon itself, we read in Matthew 8:15 that:

"If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over."

This message hit close to home as I realized that my roommates were actually the last people I had resorted to speaking to about our problems. This decision was poorly made and I no longer plan to use the world wide net to vent my anger to friends and family. Maybe I'll take up boxing.

Battles: Exterior and Interior

2006-06-21T19:40:00.000-07:00

Ahhh. Well, you asked for it....you've waited...and here it is.....

DRAMA.

Yeah, so, my roommates aren't particularly happy and pleased with each other these days. They both, as individuals, come to me with various complaints about the other.
"He's never home."
"He never cleans up after himself."
"He needs to pay the bills."
"He's supposed to mow the lawn."
"He has a bad attitude."

You get the idea. To all of this, I say: YOU'RE TALKING TO THE WRONG PERSON. Really, I refuse to get in the middle of this (pardon my language) 'b*tch and moan fest' to act as the mediator. It's not my job. Since when has it become innappropriate to say, "Hey, man, I was thinking that it'd be nice if you put your dishes in the machine this time" or "I'm having people over, so kindly move your laundry up to your own bedroom." There is a fear factor in this little tussle that is kind of mysterious to me. However, since both of my roomies read this page (hint hint) maybe things are bound to change and we can finally open up and just say what we mean.

As for my interior battle, as the previous one was obviously external, my job has caused me to experience some feelings of Christian betrayal. I recently read a passage from "The Signature of Christ" describing the way that our culture has in-bred consumerism into our population. We buy things we don't need and are ignorant of the luxury of such purchases. It is a sinful tendency that one simply cannot equate with a life lived for Christ. Christ believed fully that one may only approach the gates of heaven by living a life of simplicity and bare neccessity.

However, I work at a store filled with high-priced luxury swimwear/bags that are purchased, by and large, by women who don't need them. We do get customers who say, "I don't have a suit and all my kids are waiting on me to buy one so we can go to the pool." Yes, this is a legitimate reason for a purchase. The majority, sadly, share this sentiment, "I have a lot of suits...I just WANT one with a newer pattern/style/shape." In light of my reading, these words burn me to the core, and have caused me to question my involvment in such an industry. I perpetuate this sentiment by suggesting that buying a swimsuit is a NEED not a WANT. Is there any hope for one of Christ's whose hands are soiled by that which is against Him?

In light of my reading, though, I have made a personal commitment to stop buying things as a kind of recreational hobby. Would I like to have newer underwear or the most trendy jewelry? Sure. But, I cannot, with a clear conscience, buy things I don't need. Thus, I've been reduced to grocery shopping, and even there, have been more closely eyeing my food selection. Do I need pudding to live? Somedays. But, not usually :)

The Work and Fun Edition

2006-06-14T07:20:00.000-07:00

As I write, I am watching "Shark's Tale" with a window view of Mexico Beach in close proximity. I can hear the waves. Yes, this is what we call a Weathers' Family Reunion. It's been fun thus far, with our crazy and hysterical clan regularly stirring up laughter deservant of the random Fresca spewing. The house is adorable and kitchy. There is a "Hula Room" that has a grass skirt encircling the vanity mirror and leis draping the lampshades. Another bedroom has a comforter covered in V.W. vans with a Hawaiian hibiscus pattern setting the background.

Some of you may have read about Hurricane Alberto, and it has affected our time here, unfortunately. The water has been dingy and yesterday we experienced quite the torrential downpour. But, we've found the silver lining and luckily we all genuinely enjoy each other's company.

In other news: my job. I landed a full-time position at the Arboretum's Just Add Water store, and I'm really enjoying it. Yes, I am on my feet for 8 hours a day. Yes, I do spend extended periods of time guiding women by the hand and then sharing my qualified opinion of their appearance in a two-piece. And, yes, I do have to hang up randomly strappy pieces of material and somehow make (literally) heads or tails of them. But the days go fast and my coworkers, an assembly of cute and sales-savvy 18 to 22 year old girls, are truly kind and generous as they spend their time showing me the ropes.

There is, fortunately, room for growth. I could become a Key Holder (a sales associate who can open and close the store) and later, an Assistant Supervisor. The pay is pretty good and the location is a mere 10 minutes from my house, so that's AWESOME considering the very possible alternatives. Not to say that I've found my dreamjob, but I feel very blessed to have found a place to work with a kind staff and convenient location.

*if you, your mother, or yourself are willing to spend a not-so-insignificant quantity of money to finding a quality piece of swimwear, you know where to find me. And don't doubt it, I'm good, and you will look it :)

Recovery

2006-05-31T13:50:00.000-07:00

Ahhh. By request: an update blog.

So it has yet to be declared totaled, but the Nissan Sentra is looking sad. Well, it was crying a bit when the strange man from the collision center towed it away this afternoon. Okay, it WAS raining but I'm pretty sure the Sentra was a little teary. Anyway, they're going to assess the damage at the center and tell me whether or not it's time to go car shopping. I feel a bit like Ross on "Friends" when he refused to divorce Rachel after their Las Vegas fluke. I mean, it looks really bad to have totaled 3 cars at the age of twenty-three. I'm hoping that it's fixable, so that I can, at the very least, not have that kind of tragic record as a part of my history.

Regarding my unemployment, I was recently hired to waitress at the Olive Garden. First off, this location is brand new and a lot closer to a more attractive Johnny Carino's then to the "cavern of Italian madness" that we call the Abilene Olive Garden. I'm not going to start till after the trip to Florida (yes, I am going :) However, I got a call from the "Just Add Water" store in the Arboretum for a second interview this Thursday at noon. If the pay is pretty good then I'll probably work at that store because I KNOW it will be a lower stress environment. With that job, I could always go browse at the Barnes and Noble across the parking lot when I needed to wind down. Pray for that job.

As for the roomie situation, Cal and I have become good buddies. We watch a lot of movies together, go out to eat, and hang out with his parents and their friends. Actually, last night was spent with some close friends of David Lang (this is a shoutout to all my Highland crew. What! What!) It was fun, especially since they were hosting an all-boy 5th grade birthday bash for their son. I couldn't decide if watching all those little goobers run around made me want to birth sons or donate my eggs to science. Mixed emotions on that one.

It's rainy today in Austin, but that's cool since Lake Travis is crying out for replenishment. The more water, the lower the wakeboarding bodycount. Hope all my fans are doing well. I miss you and hope to be in a Abilene around the 8th of June. I'll make sure and post it before arriving.

Blessings are Disasters

2006-05-25T09:43:00.000-07:00

My day Tuesday was great. Cal had the day off and invited me to join his family on the lake. We set off about three and met his parents at the boat, where they had sandwiches and beverages waiting. Cal is an awesome wakeboarder, so we spent some time watching him do amazing tricks and flips during the afternoon. I swear, he should really go pro one of these days. Cal's mom and I spent some time floating around, enjoying the beautiful, clear lake water and the nice sun. (Cal's dad, by the way, is a hoot, and between the two Benaglio men, it's hard not to get laugh-induced stomach cramps.) Thankfully, I managed to avoid being over-exposed to the sun, though due to the windspeed on the boat, my hair got knotted in a kind of 'holy terror' way. Yikes. Thank goodness for "No More Tears."

To the Benaglios: I'm sorry for saying your son was a pig. Cal, I apologize and shall never point an accusatory finger again. I mean, you can be dirty, but Elliott is the one that walks around virtually naked all the time. So, thanks for staying dressed.

Now, onto yesterday. So I went to the Cheesecake Factory yesterday to interview. Now understand, this is the third time that I've gone to this joint to interview, and that day, as the rest, apparently they were not doing interviews. I advice you to browse the craigslist.com for Austin and read the testament of the Cheesecake Factory declaring: Come by between 2:00 and 5:00pm for interviews. Pure B.S. Anyway, so I left Cheesecake Factory, well-dressed and defeated and struggled with the question: Should I go home and eat lunch or go to one other place to turn in a resume.

I've been trying to get a job for awhile, and I'm not one to give up easily, so I decided to forego the meal and drive to the Spa Aloha. As I was pulling up to a stop, drinking a Sonic slush, BOOM! My airbags were in my face, as was a bunch of ice and a few maraschino cherries. Yes, I was hit very badly from the back, and was kind of in shock. Luckily, the man in front, whose back bumper I tapped, got out and got all the information, calling the police to report the incident.

Well, the fella who slammed into my sweet Nissan fled the scene soon afterward. He was later returned to the scene, via a patrol car, and put under arrest for fleeing the scene of the accident AND failing to render aid to me. I'm not hurt, by the way, but I'm going to spend my afternoon getting X-rays to make sure I don't have whiplash. I'm a bit sore, but pretty sure that my body is too resilient to be beaten by the likes of some over-medicated scene-fleeing son of a gun. (yeah, my mom DOES read this blog, thus my censorship).

So, today, I am unemployed, though truly blessed by my own health, and the fact that Cal has loaned me his car to tool around in. Yes, I'm missing my Stephanie's birthday party in Ft. Worth, but due to the current state of general suckiness, there's a good chance I'm spending mid-June on the beaches of Florida. A church chorus line comes to mind in this situation: I'M ALIVE, I'M ALIVE, I'M ALIVE, I'M ALIVE...and isn't that all I can ask for?

Another weekend...(i'm pooped)

2006-05-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

So, this past weekend was another Christy-hosted extravaganza. My girls (most of them high school buddies)arrived in Austin on Saturday night to celebrate Kelly's bachelorette party. After touring the joint, we proceeded to go to Razoo's for some crazy Cajun. The food was classically spicey, and it was good to catch up. We proceeded to squeeze into one vehicle and go downtown. Because the Maid of Honor was a minor, our choices were limited, but we finally landed at Kelly Luna's, a piano bar. It was fun, and Kelly (the Bride) was called up on the stage and then, directly onto the piano for a little humiliation vaudeville style.

After some time we retreated to the upstairs part of the bar called "The Lair." There we discovered one of the most highly attractive, vocally gifted young black men that I had ever beheld. Yes, ladies and gents, I was lovestruck. With Usher-like appearance and sound, he dazzled us, routinely calling our group in particular to the dance floor to bust a move. We had a fantastic time and held out until his last set. FYI: the group is called "The Bumps" and can be found on myspace.com.

We returned home around 2:00 am to dine on chocolate-covered strawberries and M&M's. Since we're all over twenty, our late night chatting abilities have been sadly reduced to nothing more than the odd giggle and poke. Everyone made it out pretty early in the morning.

As for last night, it was roomie Cal's 24th BIRTHDAY! We went out to eat at the Tilted Kilt, a place where the wait for food is remarkably longer than the thigh-baring kilts of the attractive waitstaff. Unfortunately, being that it was Mother's Day, they decided to close early and Cal's homemade "Kiss Me, It's my Birthday!" shirt was not well-received. Anyway, after eating, we went to Dave and Buster's and played everything from LostWorld (Cal and I should never battle dinosaurs alone) to a quiz game that allowed Hayden (GSP) to cash in on over 500 tickets. Too bad Hayden blew nearly all of them on a stuffed Superman doll and some Mike and Ike candy.

All in all it was a great weekend, but I'm ready to reach normalcy, start regularly attending church, and going to bed before 1:30am everynight.

A Real-world Night in Austin

2006-05-10T09:01:00.000-07:00

Apparently, living in a very large house and sleeping in a large bedroom sends out an unspoken invite that says "Come one, come all, family and friends..." which is fantastic. Hosting Robyn King and the gang last weekend was a ball, and everything worked out better than expected. This weekend I will be hosting Kelly Haseltine's bachelorette extravaganza, though unfortunately, many of the women attending are already married...aka...conservative. That makes party planning problematic, though as we all know, my creative genius will not succumb to this challenge.

Last night, however, I had a real evening in Austin. Chris Jacobs, ACU/GSP alum is the manager for an awesome band, Cinematic Underground. He was staying in town with us (via Cal) and invited me to go see his group at Momo's, a music venue housed above Katz's Deli. The concert was amazing, with watercolored graphics done by the band's drummer setting the scene for a phenomenal display of music and lights. If you like Arcade Fire, they are better. I highly suggest listening to their tracks on the website: www.cinematicunderground.com.

After the show, I met up with Heiss and other ACU alums, including the incredible Cameron Slack. After the show and a brief browsing of CU's tour bus, "The Destroyer," we went to Katz's. Katz's is a NYC style deli owned, semi-obviously, by a wealthy Jewish man. The place is themed like a subway car in one area and a cab in the other. It was awesome, and had the most incredible selection of gi-normous cheesecakes I've ever observed (and I've been to NYC). We actually had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Katz and his wife, a twenty-something blond who's left hand will be forever crippled by the burdensome weight of one of the largest rocks on planet earth. Heiress to incredible fortunes and large quantities of Kosher dills, her motivation in marrying this overweight, balding 50-year-old did not go unquestioned.

It was a great night, and I returned home with Chris to hang out with the boys.

Moment of realization:

I have learned that boys are more shallow than I had expected, making the most offensive comments about the physical attributes of women and how these affect their level of attractiveness. Elliot (I know you're reading this, roomie ;) was not so bad, but in general, I have come to the conclusion that men take women at face value, until the pretty ones prove themselves to be psycho (the only reason for dismissing a pretty one being an affected mental state). I have yet to hear "She was so sweet," or "She was so funny," or "She was so freaking smart." No, ladies, the sad truth is, these attributes are low cards in the face of well-set breasts and a high-riding behind. It is a sad time we live in.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

2006-05-05T12:01:00.000-07:00

Indeed, today we celebrate holiday involving the Mexicans defeating the French (or something to that effect). Contrary to popular ignorance, Cinco de Mayo is not the Mexican equivalent of the 4th of July. I, too, was ignorant until a few nights ago.

In honor of the holiday, or actually, coincidentally, some of my lady friends de Abilene are coming to visit me in my new home. We should have a wonderful evening, dining at a lovely establishment on Lake Travis, and probably proceeding to a less respectable location para bailar todo el noche...I KNOW you don't speak Spanish, Mama, and that's why I wrote it that way.

In more homely news, I've come to some disturbing realizations regarding my living situation. First off, Cal is a pig, in the most pleasant and endearing kind of way possible. He drinks bottles of water and discards the empties by pitching them up, over his head, behind the couch, onto the open carpet. This has created a kind of tragic "bottle graveyard" which, though revealing about Cal's exceptional level of hydration, is somewhat problematic for traffic. In addition, Cal also refuses to appropriately discard of food wastes, which is to say that we may or may not have had 1/2 a Mr. Goodbar sitting on our mantel for all of eternity, had Elliot not trashed it himself. Will keep tabs on further developments.

Also, it seems that for the most part, it is not the roommates themselves who have difficulty dealing with co-ed living, but a minority of people surrounding us. While it may seem hard to believe that platonic cohabitation could exist, I ask that you join with me in the suspension of disbelief. I think, for the most part, every troublesome relational fire will be properly smothered in time.

I leave you with this quote, as my weekend closing:

"My dad doesn't clean messes. He makes them. My mom is the one to clean them up..."
by Cal Benaglio

The Adventure Begins

2006-04-30T12:27:00.000-07:00

Episode 1: The Meet and Greet

The adventure began when I went to David Pittman's house to meet his brother at 7:30am. He wasn't there, so after entering the unlocked establishment, using the potty twice, and browsing David's photo albums from his freshman year at ACU (o-so-funny), Mr. Elliot arrived. After some struggle with mattresses, etc. we finally made it on the road at about 9:15am. Yikes. Our trip was uneventful, excepting the fact that our U-Haul mini-trailer was almost rear-ended about 3 times for its inability to travel in excess of 70 mph.

Upon arriving at our lovely home, I proceeded to unpack and realized that it would take a large sectional couch and possibly a children's size wading pool to do my room justice (yes, it's that big). I made my bed to start and then began prepping for Thom Lemmons' rehearsal dinner at the Central Market. Elliot graciously drew me a map to guide me to the family's hotel, and I managed to travel in 6:00pm Friday traffic without cursing once...quite an accomplishment, considering.

The rehearsal was great, and we were permitted to order whatever tickled our fancy. I, always true to the Middle East, went with the Mediterranean Wrap, corrupting my breath forever with garlicky/hummus filled goodness.

Upon arriving home from the festivities, I discover the following:

Cal and friends watching a movie. They proceed to play pool and talk about the magical powers of one board-breaking, divine being whose series, "Walker: Texas Ranger" was pretty much an unavoidable fact of life.

...and that's when I knew it.

This was life.

Pool, girls, poker, beer (I mean...root beer), Ben Stiller flix, Chuck Norris jokes, barbeque, game cube, dirty socks, farts, wrestling, burps.

I was living the life I had chosen. A life with men. And now I must deal with the consequences. Hope I can handle it, although I get the feeling that no amount of Victorian roses and lace are going to cancel out the penetrating aroma of cigar smoke and aftershave.

The Pre-Show

2006-04-23T19:42:00.000-07:00

It all started with a fortune cookie.

It read:
Blessings can become disasters.
Disasters can become blessings.

And so, here I wait, the date for my move to Austin quickly approaching, and me without a clue as to the verdict on my decision.

The Setting: An upperclass neighborhood in north Austin, close to Jollyville, on Tamayo Drive.

The Stage: A beautiful two-story home, directly across the street from a lovely park/soccer field/lap pool. My bedroom is fantastically large (the master boudoire) with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the park. Also, I have a master bathroom that could house a small family.

The Cast:

Cal Benaglio~
turning 24 in a few days, Cal is an ACU graduate who currently works very long hours as the Shift Manager for Rudy's Chicken. Rudy's is a renowned Bar-b-que joint/gas station that serves food in a kind of trough. Cal attended culinary school, however, and hopes to some day own his own restaurant, in the tradition of the Italian Benaglio family. He is single and looking (though, not at me), and all around guys' guy. He enjoys Will Ferrell movies, videogames, watersports, and playing pool. He is a very genuine person, though in my opinion, he genuinely needs to keep an eye on the Arctic setting of our thermostat.

Elliot Pittman~
a long-time friend, Elliot is currently in training to be a financial advisor with the Ameriprise (honestly, I'm not certain if that is the company name) Corporation. Once he completes his training/test taking, he will reportedly be working 12 hour days. Until then, however, he is seeking temporary employment in the secretarial/admin. assistant industry (aka, temping). Elliot is "single" and a very complicated man, in the tradition of the multi-ethnic Pittman family. Elliot enjoys the "goodtimes/party scene" but generally only on someone else's tab, and always with a level of control that can only be attributed to his time at Brentwood Christian.

Christy (Me)~
unemployed and looking, I hope that my time in Austin is one of personal growth, discovery, and general maturation. I have never lived in an all-male setting (which is, in fact, to exclude myself from the pool) but believe that long hours spent at "The Cantina" and "The Melting Pot" have fully prepared me for this experience. However, I have wisely decided NOT to sign the lease on the Tamayo residence, thus exposing myself to only marginal consequences if I indeed must "kick it to the curb." I hope to stay in Austin for atleast one year, assuming that all goes well and I'm not mistakenly impregnated by one or both of the roomies.

The Show

See what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real.