Waiting upstairs
Those green shoes on the welcome
mat (you’re not welcome)
I don’t feel welcome.
Back in the car I turn to one
blank station (static)
While you pound again with
That hand.
The weak grasp that told me
You’d let me call the shots.
But now you’re up there
Beating the wall
While I hide again with
This hand.
The weak grip on the wheel
You’ll pound all night.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Just a Trim
Clipped around the ears
Measured space between the eyes
Parted to the past
Filed cabinets behind the face
Snipped to dark stubble
It’s as good as being clean
Razor burned
Folds too few to hide the sting
Measured space between the eyes
Parted to the past
Filed cabinets behind the face
Snipped to dark stubble
It’s as good as being clean
Razor burned
Folds too few to hide the sting
A Bogus Big Bang Beginning-Part One
Dear reader,
In my attempts to combat opposition to the Gospel, I have again used writing to release my frustration. The following is a mockumentary of sorts, and is not to be taken seriously. Normally, I would demand that readers of the Bible consider all context surrounding a verse, but in this case, I suggest that you only trust the verses as truth. The rest is my sarcastic attempt to mock mockery of the Bible. A little confusing I know...May you always remember to "Seek justice, encourage the oppressed" (Isaiah 1:17), and "Be confident...that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 1:6). [I have chosen not to capitalize "he" or "god" as this is not about the actual Lord of my life.]
"In the beginning...the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep" (Genesis 1:11).
God was god, he was what he was, and if you asked him, he would say,"I am that I am" (Exodus 3:14). "I Am" lived up above this formless mass, for to live on or below it would indicate that he was of inferior rank to another great being. While "up above," he grew tired of guessing how many fingers He was holding up in the dark. (He, of course, has fingers if we are truly "in his own image"-Genesis 1:27). After completing the first two lines of the lord's-unappreciated-prayer, he hovered lost in writer's block and an overwhelming sense of loneliness. In one glorious moment of extreme supernatural genius, a light bulb popped out of the blackness to mark the air above his forehead, where a great scheme was beginning to take shape.
Without carefully considering the consequences to his plan, god spontaneously acted on impulse and broke the light bulb with his iron fist, and used a borrowed lightning bolt from Zeus to spread that light out like creamy butter over the surrounding void. Since he was the great "I Am," and thee Alpha and Omega, god knew that he must use a powerful authoritive deep voice in proclaiming his first bit of creation. Thus, he spoke, "'Let there be light,' and there was light" (Genesis 1:3).
To be continued...
In my attempts to combat opposition to the Gospel, I have again used writing to release my frustration. The following is a mockumentary of sorts, and is not to be taken seriously. Normally, I would demand that readers of the Bible consider all context surrounding a verse, but in this case, I suggest that you only trust the verses as truth. The rest is my sarcastic attempt to mock mockery of the Bible. A little confusing I know...May you always remember to "Seek justice, encourage the oppressed" (Isaiah 1:17), and "Be confident...that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 1:6). [I have chosen not to capitalize "he" or "god" as this is not about the actual Lord of my life.]
"In the beginning...the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep" (Genesis 1:11).
God was god, he was what he was, and if you asked him, he would say,"I am that I am" (Exodus 3:14). "I Am" lived up above this formless mass, for to live on or below it would indicate that he was of inferior rank to another great being. While "up above," he grew tired of guessing how many fingers He was holding up in the dark. (He, of course, has fingers if we are truly "in his own image"-Genesis 1:27). After completing the first two lines of the lord's-unappreciated-prayer, he hovered lost in writer's block and an overwhelming sense of loneliness. In one glorious moment of extreme supernatural genius, a light bulb popped out of the blackness to mark the air above his forehead, where a great scheme was beginning to take shape.
Without carefully considering the consequences to his plan, god spontaneously acted on impulse and broke the light bulb with his iron fist, and used a borrowed lightning bolt from Zeus to spread that light out like creamy butter over the surrounding void. Since he was the great "I Am," and thee Alpha and Omega, god knew that he must use a powerful authoritive deep voice in proclaiming his first bit of creation. Thus, he spoke, "'Let there be light,' and there was light" (Genesis 1:3).
To be continued...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
A Letter From Your Friendly Waitress
-Dear restaurant customer/fresh food consumer-
If I didn't like your friend who's nice to me, I wouldn't still be a server after a year and a half. I appreciate your friend and others who don't think that their heart is going to fall out of their chest if there's a pen-sized dot of pink on their choice sirloin. I'm also quite fond of those guests who do not attempt to make me contemplate murder because they have one-thousandth of an ounce less alfredo sauce than they prefer to have on their chicken pasta. Also, I don't mind people who understand that it is not a contest to see who can drink the most Mountain Dew's in five minutes. (If you can down 5 in 5 minutes, you're hardly a hero. In fact, you're a severe pain in the ass and you'll only wet the bed). For the rest of you (those of you who I refer to by names I wouldn't say in front of my mother if I were paid to),
I have some things I would like to say:
-If you're drunk, don't tell me that you are every ten minutes. I'm aware. Being too intoxicated to determine the bathroom from the kitchen does not give you permission to treat me like I'm your personal nurse and low-paid mother. I give you booze, you give me money. We do not have a relationship beyond that.
-If you ask for a refill, drink at least half of it to humor me.
-If your friend (sitting right beside you) asks me for more crackers and a glass of water, and you also want several crackers and a glass of water, say, "Me too." It's easy, try it out. Doing so will save me more time than you could learn how to value and will prevent you from becoming an icon of severe annoyance.
-If you need more than fifty-five sides of ranch, you should get tested for unhealthy infatuation with salad dressings. Plus, your body will not last longer than next Tuesday. With this, keep in mind that I am a server (as in "general-everything we have in the restaurant-server, not "dressing attendant").
-When you change your mind four times, you cannot expect me to get your order completely accurate.
-What goes through your mind when you decide to put your body-acid-colored, saliva-saturated, germ-infested wad of bubble gum (that is the size of my face) underneath the nice wood of our sanitary tables? Is that satisfying for you? Is there a reason the napkins on the table are not worthy of your waste? How do you fit that much gum in your mouth? Do you realize that we have a day set aside for cleaning up your gum? That's right, Tuesday nights are scrape sugary-rubber off the bottom of the tables-night. We wouldn't need scrape sugary-rubber off-night if you understood the procedure for waste removal.
-If you pooped in the toilet, flush. Good boy.
If we have had a ten minute discussion about the pros and cons of ribeye steak and have come to the conclusion that it is indeed a particularly fatty chunk of meat, do you understand why I am frustrated when you attempt to get a discount on the ribeye you ordered which was “mostly gristle and I just couldn’t finish it.”
-If you bring twenty-seven friends with you to dinner, consider the fact that getting change for twenty-seven bills that are all paid in cash is quite impossible. If it is feasible, it is still impossible to keep all of those coins and bills separated. I do not have 27 hands. I don't even have 27 fingers. If you complain about the time duration that it takes to get you twenty-seven sets of change, I will beat you over the head twenty-seven times with the heaviest dish I can find.
-When you come in and order food fifteen minutes before we are planning to close, keep in mind that every employee in the restaurant hates you. One of them is bound to do something to your food.
-I am not your babysitter. If you would like to take one sip every fifteen minutes from your 32 oz. glass of beer that I gave you five minutes before closing time, please buy beer at a liquor store and sit in the comfort of your own home. I can't leave until you leave. Again, I am not a babysitter.
-If I walk past your table (obviously staring at you) 10 times in the course of five minutes (and ask every other time if you need anything else) -OR- if I ask if you want a refill or desert more than once after you're done eating, that means LEAVE ALREADY.
-Two pennies is not a tip. Neither is 75 cents. In fact, if you're going to leave less than 10 percent, don't bother. I'm gonna be pissed either way.
-If you're going to be cruel, be cruel the whole time I'm serving you. Nothing's more infuriating than a nice couple who says thank you many times, tells you the food was excellent, complements you on your pretty name, and doesn't complain at all-then stiffs you with no tip whatsoever on a seventy-dollar tab. I've had this happen. My boss had to hold me back so I wouldn't chase you down with steak knives. And so, if you're going to be mean, be continually mean. That way I don't consider you angels and go out of my way to give you every extra napkin and condiment you need.
-I like kids. But try to keep yours from using the carpet as a table. Also, be creative and come up with a new activity, instead of the same old dump-all-the-sugar-packets-onto-the-floor routine. We have crayons and activity sheets.
-When I say "We have Pepsi Products," don't say, "I'll have a Diet Coke." That only proves that you weren't listening to me and you're an idiot. If you get pissy 'cuz you can't have Coke, don't berate me. I'm not in charge of pop selection. And if I was, I wouldn't take your opinion into consideration. (With this beverage dilemma in mind, it is further proof you are ignoring me when you ask what else there is to drink after I listed every domestic tap, flavor of lemonade, types of iced tea, and juice options that we have.)
-Do not. Absolutely DO NOT ask me what the "soup of the day" is more than once after I told you. One repeat is a free-bee. Two or more is inhumane.
Well, that's all I can think of for now, but I'm sure I'll come up with more things that I don't like about you. I'm not a pessimist; I'm just honest. Thanks for coming in! Have a great night!
If I didn't like your friend who's nice to me, I wouldn't still be a server after a year and a half. I appreciate your friend and others who don't think that their heart is going to fall out of their chest if there's a pen-sized dot of pink on their choice sirloin. I'm also quite fond of those guests who do not attempt to make me contemplate murder because they have one-thousandth of an ounce less alfredo sauce than they prefer to have on their chicken pasta. Also, I don't mind people who understand that it is not a contest to see who can drink the most Mountain Dew's in five minutes. (If you can down 5 in 5 minutes, you're hardly a hero. In fact, you're a severe pain in the ass and you'll only wet the bed). For the rest of you (those of you who I refer to by names I wouldn't say in front of my mother if I were paid to),
I have some things I would like to say:
-If you're drunk, don't tell me that you are every ten minutes. I'm aware. Being too intoxicated to determine the bathroom from the kitchen does not give you permission to treat me like I'm your personal nurse and low-paid mother. I give you booze, you give me money. We do not have a relationship beyond that.
-If you ask for a refill, drink at least half of it to humor me.
-If your friend (sitting right beside you) asks me for more crackers and a glass of water, and you also want several crackers and a glass of water, say, "Me too." It's easy, try it out. Doing so will save me more time than you could learn how to value and will prevent you from becoming an icon of severe annoyance.
-If you need more than fifty-five sides of ranch, you should get tested for unhealthy infatuation with salad dressings. Plus, your body will not last longer than next Tuesday. With this, keep in mind that I am a server (as in "general-everything we have in the restaurant-server, not "dressing attendant").
-When you change your mind four times, you cannot expect me to get your order completely accurate.
-What goes through your mind when you decide to put your body-acid-colored, saliva-saturated, germ-infested wad of bubble gum (that is the size of my face) underneath the nice wood of our sanitary tables? Is that satisfying for you? Is there a reason the napkins on the table are not worthy of your waste? How do you fit that much gum in your mouth? Do you realize that we have a day set aside for cleaning up your gum? That's right, Tuesday nights are scrape sugary-rubber off the bottom of the tables-night. We wouldn't need scrape sugary-rubber off-night if you understood the procedure for waste removal.
-If you pooped in the toilet, flush. Good boy.
If we have had a ten minute discussion about the pros and cons of ribeye steak and have come to the conclusion that it is indeed a particularly fatty chunk of meat, do you understand why I am frustrated when you attempt to get a discount on the ribeye you ordered which was “mostly gristle and I just couldn’t finish it.”
-If you bring twenty-seven friends with you to dinner, consider the fact that getting change for twenty-seven bills that are all paid in cash is quite impossible. If it is feasible, it is still impossible to keep all of those coins and bills separated. I do not have 27 hands. I don't even have 27 fingers. If you complain about the time duration that it takes to get you twenty-seven sets of change, I will beat you over the head twenty-seven times with the heaviest dish I can find.
-When you come in and order food fifteen minutes before we are planning to close, keep in mind that every employee in the restaurant hates you. One of them is bound to do something to your food.
-I am not your babysitter. If you would like to take one sip every fifteen minutes from your 32 oz. glass of beer that I gave you five minutes before closing time, please buy beer at a liquor store and sit in the comfort of your own home. I can't leave until you leave. Again, I am not a babysitter.
-If I walk past your table (obviously staring at you) 10 times in the course of five minutes (and ask every other time if you need anything else) -OR- if I ask if you want a refill or desert more than once after you're done eating, that means LEAVE ALREADY.
-Two pennies is not a tip. Neither is 75 cents. In fact, if you're going to leave less than 10 percent, don't bother. I'm gonna be pissed either way.
-If you're going to be cruel, be cruel the whole time I'm serving you. Nothing's more infuriating than a nice couple who says thank you many times, tells you the food was excellent, complements you on your pretty name, and doesn't complain at all-then stiffs you with no tip whatsoever on a seventy-dollar tab. I've had this happen. My boss had to hold me back so I wouldn't chase you down with steak knives. And so, if you're going to be mean, be continually mean. That way I don't consider you angels and go out of my way to give you every extra napkin and condiment you need.
-I like kids. But try to keep yours from using the carpet as a table. Also, be creative and come up with a new activity, instead of the same old dump-all-the-sugar-packets-onto-the-floor routine. We have crayons and activity sheets.
-When I say "We have Pepsi Products," don't say, "I'll have a Diet Coke." That only proves that you weren't listening to me and you're an idiot. If you get pissy 'cuz you can't have Coke, don't berate me. I'm not in charge of pop selection. And if I was, I wouldn't take your opinion into consideration. (With this beverage dilemma in mind, it is further proof you are ignoring me when you ask what else there is to drink after I listed every domestic tap, flavor of lemonade, types of iced tea, and juice options that we have.)
-Do not. Absolutely DO NOT ask me what the "soup of the day" is more than once after I told you. One repeat is a free-bee. Two or more is inhumane.
Well, that's all I can think of for now, but I'm sure I'll come up with more things that I don't like about you. I'm not a pessimist; I'm just honest. Thanks for coming in! Have a great night!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Make a Mess, Then Disappear
The game Risk is like taking a nap. It's fun when you begin; it's also enjoyable to experience alongside people you're comfortable with; and if you spend too much time partaking in it, you'll get a headache and feel worse than you did before you began.
The trick: don't aim to win.
Unless you have more patience than a seventy year old retelling his latest expedition to the mailbox, don't attempt to remain in the game long enough to win. Five hours later, you'll be angry that you control three continents and can't stop now because you're one man away from conquering your neighbor, Great Britain. You'll be so tired that you'll just go to bed pissed that you wasted moments of your life you will never get back, knowing you just acquired the latest new cold virus from lack of sleep, and wishing your eyes didn't feel like they fell out hours ago from staring at the board while your posture deteriorated and your thighs permanently reformed into the shape of the metal chair you were sitting on.
New goal: mess with all other players.
It is soo much more fun to keep anyone from winning, while not actually winning yourself. Picture it: Suzy has all of Africa and Asia under her belt, while you hang out in North America, pretending that the rest of the world doesn't matter to you (forgive the pun...hehe). Then bam! You swoop in through Greenland and Iceland to take over the world, only to leave such a small army in your tracks that you can't actually maintain any sort of stronghold.
It's so good. You won't win but you sure f+++ed with Suzy's plans, huh?! Yeah! Isn't that more fun than winning?!
I played Risk for the first time tonight, and found this strategy to be highly fulfilling. You can quit whenever you want. Simply cause mass chaos, then leave your soldiers vulnerable to attack from all sides. You get your butt kicked and then you go to bed with a smile on your face (and the knowledge that the other players will continue to participate until they're delirious with fatigue and can no longer even enjoy the satisfaction of winning).
While you count your sheep and drift peacefully off into sleepy-land.
Yes.
That is the way to play Risk.
Goodnight...
The trick: don't aim to win.
Unless you have more patience than a seventy year old retelling his latest expedition to the mailbox, don't attempt to remain in the game long enough to win. Five hours later, you'll be angry that you control three continents and can't stop now because you're one man away from conquering your neighbor, Great Britain. You'll be so tired that you'll just go to bed pissed that you wasted moments of your life you will never get back, knowing you just acquired the latest new cold virus from lack of sleep, and wishing your eyes didn't feel like they fell out hours ago from staring at the board while your posture deteriorated and your thighs permanently reformed into the shape of the metal chair you were sitting on.
New goal: mess with all other players.
It is soo much more fun to keep anyone from winning, while not actually winning yourself. Picture it: Suzy has all of Africa and Asia under her belt, while you hang out in North America, pretending that the rest of the world doesn't matter to you (forgive the pun...hehe). Then bam! You swoop in through Greenland and Iceland to take over the world, only to leave such a small army in your tracks that you can't actually maintain any sort of stronghold.
It's so good. You won't win but you sure f+++ed with Suzy's plans, huh?! Yeah! Isn't that more fun than winning?!
I played Risk for the first time tonight, and found this strategy to be highly fulfilling. You can quit whenever you want. Simply cause mass chaos, then leave your soldiers vulnerable to attack from all sides. You get your butt kicked and then you go to bed with a smile on your face (and the knowledge that the other players will continue to participate until they're delirious with fatigue and can no longer even enjoy the satisfaction of winning).
While you count your sheep and drift peacefully off into sleepy-land.
Yes.
That is the way to play Risk.
Goodnight...
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Working with Writers
I really enjoy tutoring students at the Write Site. Yet, I'm always hoping nobody will come in for help while I'm here. It doesn't make sense. It's similar to my experience with long distancing running: hurts like hell and I'd rather avoid it, but dang it sure feels good when you accomplish your goal. There's something so fulfilling about having a student leave a tutorial with excitement about her paper, or at least assurance that finishing it, and finishing it well, is a do-able aim. Sometimes I'm tired and brain-dead; thus I feel inadequate to help another writer. Once we get started though, I'm sucked into the passion I have for making that student's stress load lighter and his writing more focused and clear.
When a student understands my points and what will make his writing stronger, I feel that I have achieved what I set out to do. I trust my ability to be calm, approachable, honest but kind, constructive, and supportive as a tutor. Perhaps my gift is patience in the academic setting, while my vice is lack of patience outside of its walls. Ironically, I have an endless supply of endurance with teaching students how to value their strengths and improve their weaknesses. It's really pretty fun to tutor. However, I still hope that no one comes in the door again. Again, how does that make sense?
So much of life involves love-hate relationships. I know what I'm capable of, but scared of the work required of me. And so, I must end with a perfect quote on the subject:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.."
-Marianne Williamson
Though directed more at a spiritual perception, this quote sums up my career goals: I know what I'm capable of; I know that the feelings of fulfillment are amazing; yet I'm terrified to take up the responsibility.
When a student understands my points and what will make his writing stronger, I feel that I have achieved what I set out to do. I trust my ability to be calm, approachable, honest but kind, constructive, and supportive as a tutor. Perhaps my gift is patience in the academic setting, while my vice is lack of patience outside of its walls. Ironically, I have an endless supply of endurance with teaching students how to value their strengths and improve their weaknesses. It's really pretty fun to tutor. However, I still hope that no one comes in the door again. Again, how does that make sense?
So much of life involves love-hate relationships. I know what I'm capable of, but scared of the work required of me. And so, I must end with a perfect quote on the subject:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.."
-Marianne Williamson
Though directed more at a spiritual perception, this quote sums up my career goals: I know what I'm capable of; I know that the feelings of fulfillment are amazing; yet I'm terrified to take up the responsibility.
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