Not too long after I graduated from high school my brother told me, “Katrina, you’re the greatest little sister a guy could ever ask for – I never have to worry about you going out and doing stupid crap.” I believe what he was trying say is, “I’m freakin’ glad I never have to worry about you going out, getting smashed, and ending up in bed with some random dude.”
I suppose you could say that I’m prone to making good decisions. I’m not sure why - I just am. Some might argue that it is because of my family upbringing, but both my brother and sister have disproved that theory. I am the only one of the three of us who didn’t think to throw a wild party at our summer cottage on Sand Lake – and my parents even left me home alone there for an entire week my senior year of high school; I certainly had the opportunity.
Others might argue that my tendency to make wise choices is because of my faith. Although I think that’s part of it, and probably most of it, my faith didn’t become real to me until I was in college and I was making good decisions well before then. It’s not that I attempted to be a goody too shoes; I was just, as my mom has stated “a good kid.” And somehow, even with the skinny dipping episode, and our Spring Break trip to Daytona, my graduating class voted me Class Angel. (For the record, they also voted me Prom Queen as well as Most Likely to Succeed.)
I mean, I’ve certainly done some bad stuff throughout my life. Like when I was really little I shoplifted and stole a box of Tic Tacs from the grocery store check-out aisle; they were orange and yummy and my parents never found out. They did, however, find out when I cut the hair off of my sister’s Brooke Shields Barbie Doll. My sister was irate, and understandably so - with Brooke’s new hairdo, there was no hiding the sin that I had committed.
And then there is the one occasion in my life when I did drugs. Our family was living at a parsonage home in Owosso, Michigan at the time. And I hid (or at least I thought I was hiding) under our piano. I still remember popping pill after pill, taking them in like they were some sort of candy. I finished every last Flintstone Vitamin that was in the bottle. I must have been 4 years old; I haven’t touched drugs since.
In more recent years the poor choices I have made and continue to make include not wearing sunscreen, drinking way too much Diet Coke, talking to strangers, and running when it’s dark outside. But again, like I said before, in general, I’m prone to making good decisions.
I bring this topic up because I woke up this morning thinking about a friend of mine, whose kid, at the age of 13, insists on sneaking out of the house to drink and smoke pot with his friends. I have tons of respect for my friend, and I know he is an amazing Dad, yet his kid is doing his own thing. As much influence as he has in his son’s life, he can’t make all his son’s life choices for him.
This is interesting to think about from a spiritual perspective, because the reality is, the way that God set this world up, with free will (i.e. the freedom that we have to make choices rather than to be controlled by God like robots), He can’t, or perhaps better stated He won’t, make us make good decisions. Just like my friend knows what is best for his son, and it tears him up that his son is going his own way…
to be finished...
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Cardboard Boxes
Today I was told, "You'd have fun in a cardboard box!"
Thanks? I think.
It was over facebook chat at the end of my work day and the uncensored part our conversation went like this:
Him: on a plane to LA but there is no katrina
Me: that’s right… cuz i’m in my cubicle in the basement of the empire state building…
Him: how’s the city treatin you?
Me: i’m loooovin’ nyc
i’m surprised actually, how much the city already feels like home
Him: Im SO GLAD!!!
you’d have fun in a cardboard box
Me: ah… you’ve read old posts… is that where the cardboard box reference came from? or did you just make that up?
Him: no… just thought of it when i thought of how you’re always smiling
Me: it’s true… i’m glowing & lovin’ life…
I haven't seen "him" since the night we met at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood - the same hotel that Marilyn Monroe use to frequent at the start of her career. But that particular spring night it was me, not Marilyn, who enjoyed a drink and good company at the poolside bar. That night, in and of itself, is worthy of its own piece of writing. I promise, someday it will receive the story that it deserves, but for now, I’m pondering cardboard boxes.
Because although I suggested in the facebook conversation that I had written about cardboxes on my blog or in a post, I later realized, I haven’t – at least not on my own blog. However, years ago I left a brief blog post on someone else’s blog.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
"I still play with cardboard boxes." ~Marie
Marie Devonshire was my pen name, and I wrote those words in response to a post that the moderator of the blog had posted on October 27, 2003, a post that included the sentence, “I want heaven to be nothing more than life as an eternal 12 year old, with a never ending supply of refrigerator boxes…”
The blog still exists today (modesty.blogspot.com), and I’m glad it does because I consider it to be sacred space, because it was there that I first start to dabble in writing. Although I contributed only a half dozen or so pieces to the blog (mainly at towards the end of 2003 and at the beginning of 2004), at least two them were somewhat brilliant, and that’s when I started to believe that I had “it” in me.
Unfortunately I’ve been burying my talent for years (like so many of us do). I think because of fear or perhaps desire for the perfection that we know we’ll never be able to achieve. It’s as if we give up prematurely just so we don’t have face the possibility of failure. When the fact of the matter is, it takes much rejection and criticism to progress to that place of…
of…
of…
I can’t seem to find the right words to end this piece - perhaps because I’m still progressing to that place. Then again, maybe there is no place, and I will always need to keep moving beyond where I currently am. Hmmm, that must be it; there is no arrival, so lets keep moving forward.
Dear Him,
If you're reading this, I don't typically save facebook chat conversations. I was just inspired (or something) by ours and decided to save some of the content. I hope that was okay. Can't wait to connect once you're back on the East Coast!
Thanks? I think.
It was over facebook chat at the end of my work day and the uncensored part our conversation went like this:
Him: on a plane to LA but there is no katrina
Me: that’s right… cuz i’m in my cubicle in the basement of the empire state building…
Him: how’s the city treatin you?
Me: i’m loooovin’ nyc
i’m surprised actually, how much the city already feels like home
Him: Im SO GLAD!!!
you’d have fun in a cardboard box
Me: ah… you’ve read old posts… is that where the cardboard box reference came from? or did you just make that up?
Him: no… just thought of it when i thought of how you’re always smiling
Me: it’s true… i’m glowing & lovin’ life…
I haven't seen "him" since the night we met at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood - the same hotel that Marilyn Monroe use to frequent at the start of her career. But that particular spring night it was me, not Marilyn, who enjoyed a drink and good company at the poolside bar. That night, in and of itself, is worthy of its own piece of writing. I promise, someday it will receive the story that it deserves, but for now, I’m pondering cardboard boxes.
Because although I suggested in the facebook conversation that I had written about cardboxes on my blog or in a post, I later realized, I haven’t – at least not on my own blog. However, years ago I left a brief blog post on someone else’s blog.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
"I still play with cardboard boxes." ~Marie
Marie Devonshire was my pen name, and I wrote those words in response to a post that the moderator of the blog had posted on October 27, 2003, a post that included the sentence, “I want heaven to be nothing more than life as an eternal 12 year old, with a never ending supply of refrigerator boxes…”
The blog still exists today (modesty.blogspot.com), and I’m glad it does because I consider it to be sacred space, because it was there that I first start to dabble in writing. Although I contributed only a half dozen or so pieces to the blog (mainly at towards the end of 2003 and at the beginning of 2004), at least two them were somewhat brilliant, and that’s when I started to believe that I had “it” in me.
Unfortunately I’ve been burying my talent for years (like so many of us do). I think because of fear or perhaps desire for the perfection that we know we’ll never be able to achieve. It’s as if we give up prematurely just so we don’t have face the possibility of failure. When the fact of the matter is, it takes much rejection and criticism to progress to that place of…
of…
of…
I can’t seem to find the right words to end this piece - perhaps because I’m still progressing to that place. Then again, maybe there is no place, and I will always need to keep moving beyond where I currently am. Hmmm, that must be it; there is no arrival, so lets keep moving forward.
Dear Him,
If you're reading this, I don't typically save facebook chat conversations. I was just inspired (or something) by ours and decided to save some of the content. I hope that was okay. Can't wait to connect once you're back on the East Coast!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Spice.
If you're from New York, you probably know that I'm referring to a restaurant.
However, I admit, I also like to use the word spice to refer to the presence of romantic chemistry between two individuals – or the lack there of. More often than not I have stated that there's no spice. In fact, I don't think I've ever used the word to say there is, because spice isn't something that frequents my life. Although, this year, I believe that to be changing because there have been at least 3 occasions where I would say there was spice. But the spice was short-lived, or perhaps never developed into the potential that we both knew might be there. I'm not sure why, but that's life, and I'm no longer disappointed if spice evolves into silence rather than romance, because I'm finally convinced that if the spice veers away, then it simply wasn't meant to be. My Calvinist exboyfriend would attribute it to God's sovereignty. I often find talk of John Calvin, John Piper and not John’s but rather God’s sovereignty to be rather annoying. But I do think that it's good for keeping perspective – when it comes to relationships or other. Because it reminds you that you're not completely in control, and that there is a God who is bigger than any situation or life circumstance.
But tonight I'm not talking about spice, as in chemistry, but rather I'm talking about a Thai food restaurant. I was first introduced to Spice in 2003 when my friend Troy Yeager and I decided to roadtrip from the Midwest to NYC just days before Christmas. Our soundtrack for the drive was The Strokes, and as we listened to the CD we both confessed that we were intrigued by guitar players of the opposite sex that were much too young for consideration. We also talked about our long term crushes that we would both see in New York during our stay. Troy wanted to proposed to his while we were in the city; I thought that was a great idea, but his friend Todd suggested that perhaps he ought to be dating Stephanie before he pops the question. That conversation took place late at night on some bridge in Central Park. I can’t recall which bridge, but I do recall that both Todd and Troy pissed under it before we headed back to wherever it is that we were going.
Troy married his crush last summer. Mine, I've determined, will never notice me as being something potentially more than a friend. And in all honesty, I don't think I can refer to him as a crush anymore. I realized this not too long ago when I opted for sleep over talking to him on the phone. Regardless, he still makes me smile; I think he always will. Some people are like that. Actually, I hope I’m like that to a lot of people, or if I’m not, then I hope at least some of my writing is.
But back to Spice, tonight I went to the Spice located near Union Square with a friend of mine from LA. She has quite the career - one that takes her all over the world on seemingly fabulous adventures that, she told me, aren’t always as glamorous as they might seem. I think I understood, or at least I tried. I won't say much about her job because she is writing her own story, and I'll let her be the one to tell it. But I will say, it was great to meet up with a familiar face and I’m thankful for the time and conversation we were able to share together.
However, I admit, I also like to use the word spice to refer to the presence of romantic chemistry between two individuals – or the lack there of. More often than not I have stated that there's no spice. In fact, I don't think I've ever used the word to say there is, because spice isn't something that frequents my life. Although, this year, I believe that to be changing because there have been at least 3 occasions where I would say there was spice. But the spice was short-lived, or perhaps never developed into the potential that we both knew might be there. I'm not sure why, but that's life, and I'm no longer disappointed if spice evolves into silence rather than romance, because I'm finally convinced that if the spice veers away, then it simply wasn't meant to be. My Calvinist exboyfriend would attribute it to God's sovereignty. I often find talk of John Calvin, John Piper and not John’s but rather God’s sovereignty to be rather annoying. But I do think that it's good for keeping perspective – when it comes to relationships or other. Because it reminds you that you're not completely in control, and that there is a God who is bigger than any situation or life circumstance.
But tonight I'm not talking about spice, as in chemistry, but rather I'm talking about a Thai food restaurant. I was first introduced to Spice in 2003 when my friend Troy Yeager and I decided to roadtrip from the Midwest to NYC just days before Christmas. Our soundtrack for the drive was The Strokes, and as we listened to the CD we both confessed that we were intrigued by guitar players of the opposite sex that were much too young for consideration. We also talked about our long term crushes that we would both see in New York during our stay. Troy wanted to proposed to his while we were in the city; I thought that was a great idea, but his friend Todd suggested that perhaps he ought to be dating Stephanie before he pops the question. That conversation took place late at night on some bridge in Central Park. I can’t recall which bridge, but I do recall that both Todd and Troy pissed under it before we headed back to wherever it is that we were going.
Troy married his crush last summer. Mine, I've determined, will never notice me as being something potentially more than a friend. And in all honesty, I don't think I can refer to him as a crush anymore. I realized this not too long ago when I opted for sleep over talking to him on the phone. Regardless, he still makes me smile; I think he always will. Some people are like that. Actually, I hope I’m like that to a lot of people, or if I’m not, then I hope at least some of my writing is.
But back to Spice, tonight I went to the Spice located near Union Square with a friend of mine from LA. She has quite the career - one that takes her all over the world on seemingly fabulous adventures that, she told me, aren’t always as glamorous as they might seem. I think I understood, or at least I tried. I won't say much about her job because she is writing her own story, and I'll let her be the one to tell it. But I will say, it was great to meet up with a familiar face and I’m thankful for the time and conversation we were able to share together.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Ainsworth Adventure
So close, yet so far away... isn't that a song?
Hmmm... I don't think I can write on that thought - at least not publicly. Some thoughts are better held by the pages of a journal rather than an online blogs for the world to read.
However, I can write about last night's adventure... and I will... soon.
Soon is here.
I received a text sometime around 11, and by midnight I was on my way to 26th Street to meet up with my new, gosh, I really don't know what to call him. My boss would say boy toy, but I won’t. Can I say friend? I don't think so. He's too attractive and too new to yet call him a friend. And the reality is I may never see him again. Although he did say that he'd like to hear how feel about the city 6 months from now, so perhaps I'll see him in March or April. I think he picked up on the fact that when it comes to life in NYC, I'm still in some sort of honeymoon phase; I won't deny that, I am.
We met earlier that day at Professor Thom’s (for more on Professor Thom, see September 4th’s entry) and somewhat watched the 2nd half of Michigan’s football game together. We managed to sneak in some substantive conversation in between plays, and at the end of the game he asked for my number, mentioning the possibility of maybe meeting up later that evening. He seemed like a decent guy, so I gave him my number, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to hear from him. But I am glad that he texted because I had been writing all evening and I was up for taking a break.
And so somewhere between 6th and 7th avenues, I stumbled across a place called Ainsworth, and within minutes I had located him and number of his friends inside.
More to come…
Hmmm... I don't think I can write on that thought - at least not publicly. Some thoughts are better held by the pages of a journal rather than an online blogs for the world to read.
However, I can write about last night's adventure... and I will... soon.
Soon is here.
I received a text sometime around 11, and by midnight I was on my way to 26th Street to meet up with my new, gosh, I really don't know what to call him. My boss would say boy toy, but I won’t. Can I say friend? I don't think so. He's too attractive and too new to yet call him a friend. And the reality is I may never see him again. Although he did say that he'd like to hear how feel about the city 6 months from now, so perhaps I'll see him in March or April. I think he picked up on the fact that when it comes to life in NYC, I'm still in some sort of honeymoon phase; I won't deny that, I am.
We met earlier that day at Professor Thom’s (for more on Professor Thom, see September 4th’s entry) and somewhat watched the 2nd half of Michigan’s football game together. We managed to sneak in some substantive conversation in between plays, and at the end of the game he asked for my number, mentioning the possibility of maybe meeting up later that evening. He seemed like a decent guy, so I gave him my number, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to hear from him. But I am glad that he texted because I had been writing all evening and I was up for taking a break.
And so somewhere between 6th and 7th avenues, I stumbled across a place called Ainsworth, and within minutes I had located him and number of his friends inside.
More to come…
Saturday, October 2, 2010
My Most Recent
My football team's most recent win: Michigan 42 Indiana 35
My most recent contact added to my phone: Erik Goblue
My most recent meal: Shake Shack at Madison Square Park
My most recent adventure: I'm about to go on it right now...
My most recent contact added to my phone: Erik Goblue
My most recent meal: Shake Shack at Madison Square Park
My most recent adventure: I'm about to go on it right now...
Friday, October 1, 2010
The Middle of Nowhere
The other day I was meeting with a student and amidst our conversation she exclaimed, “I just want to go and find the middle of nowhere!”
I suggested, “You might want to try Indiana. Or better yet, Iowa. Yeah, you should have no problem finding the middle of nowhere in Iowa.” For some reason I was stuck on cornfields.
“Do you know what I mean though?” She questioned. I was beginning to sense that she believed that the middle of nowhere is a most glorious place – and that it was more about the experience than the location.
“Actually, I think I do. It’s that place where you pull your car over to the side of the road, and with your music blaring, you get out of your car and dance under the stars.”
I could have gone on to explain the brightness of the stars in northern Michigan that summer night. And that song by Jimmy Eat World that accompanied me in my moment... The song that starts, “The first star I see, may not be, a star. Can’t do a thing but wait, so let’s wait, for one more.” And the chorus, that questions, “Can you still feel the butterflies?”
The song’s title: For Me This is Heaven
It’s true; the middle of nowhere is glorious. And I’d encourage you to find it at least a few times a year, if not more. Perhaps we ought to attempt find it every day. Because it’s in the middle of nowhere that you feel most alive – where your soul is rejuvenated by the beauty of the moment, and no worry, care, or concern, can hold you captive. But rather you breathe in life. And the Creator smiles as He sees you in your fullness.
Another student shared with me this evening that unless he gets married on a Friday, that this would be the best Friday of his entire life. He hadn’t found the middle of nowhere (or perhaps he had), but rather he and two of his friends had found their way on to Jimmy Fallon’s late night show. As members of studio audience they were featured several times throughout the show. Greg told me that he had caught a slingshot monkey that Jimmy had flung his direction during the show. Jimmy told him that not only had he won the monkey, but that they would like to give him a stereo system valued at $10,000.
A bit later on in the show, Jimmy held up a fake/potential craigslist add, inquiring, “Who is Alec?” Alec is another one of my students who was sitting right beside Greg. Prior to the show all the studio audience members were asked to create a Craigslist add and Jimmy read Alec’s add, “Lost, Western Civ notebook in the basement of the Empire State Building. If found, please contact…” Jimmy then asked about the student sitting beside him – a girl named Brittany, who also attends The King’s College. He inquired, “So are you two dating?” They responded, “No” and a brief moment of awkward silence followed which then spurred on laughter by Jimmy and the entire studio audience.
Greg told me that the best part was at the end of the show when Jimmy came up to him and gave him a huge bear hug. I considered that if I hugged Greg, perhaps the hug that Jimmy Fallon gave him might somehow transfer to me. (I determined it wouldn't and refrained from hugging Greg.) Although I’ve never watched Jimmy’s late night show, I think he is unbelievably charming and humorous. Granted, most of what I know of him is what I’ve picked up in the movies, and may not actually be an accurate depiction of who he is; however, if given the opportunity, I wouldn’t mind going on a date with him. Then again, I kind of suspect he’s married.
Google check: yep, he’s been married for a few years now to Nancy Juvonen. Okay, forget the date; instead I’d like to be a guest on his show. Perhaps once my book is published he’ll invite me on his show to discuss its contents. I know I’m dreaming, but you never know. After all, living New York City use to simply be a dream and now it’s my reality. When you dream aloud, you never know who might hear your dreams, and what might come of them. And it may be a prayer that only God hears, but it could also be that friend or acquaintance who hears your dream, and decides that they want to help make it come true.
If you stumbled across this post, I would love for you to leave a comment, sharing a middle of nowhere experience that you have had. Or perhaps share a dream that you have – a dream, that perhaps you’ve been too afraid voice or to pursue. Speak it, my friends.
I suggested, “You might want to try Indiana. Or better yet, Iowa. Yeah, you should have no problem finding the middle of nowhere in Iowa.” For some reason I was stuck on cornfields.
“Do you know what I mean though?” She questioned. I was beginning to sense that she believed that the middle of nowhere is a most glorious place – and that it was more about the experience than the location.
“Actually, I think I do. It’s that place where you pull your car over to the side of the road, and with your music blaring, you get out of your car and dance under the stars.”
I could have gone on to explain the brightness of the stars in northern Michigan that summer night. And that song by Jimmy Eat World that accompanied me in my moment... The song that starts, “The first star I see, may not be, a star. Can’t do a thing but wait, so let’s wait, for one more.” And the chorus, that questions, “Can you still feel the butterflies?”
The song’s title: For Me This is Heaven
It’s true; the middle of nowhere is glorious. And I’d encourage you to find it at least a few times a year, if not more. Perhaps we ought to attempt find it every day. Because it’s in the middle of nowhere that you feel most alive – where your soul is rejuvenated by the beauty of the moment, and no worry, care, or concern, can hold you captive. But rather you breathe in life. And the Creator smiles as He sees you in your fullness.
Another student shared with me this evening that unless he gets married on a Friday, that this would be the best Friday of his entire life. He hadn’t found the middle of nowhere (or perhaps he had), but rather he and two of his friends had found their way on to Jimmy Fallon’s late night show. As members of studio audience they were featured several times throughout the show. Greg told me that he had caught a slingshot monkey that Jimmy had flung his direction during the show. Jimmy told him that not only had he won the monkey, but that they would like to give him a stereo system valued at $10,000.
A bit later on in the show, Jimmy held up a fake/potential craigslist add, inquiring, “Who is Alec?” Alec is another one of my students who was sitting right beside Greg. Prior to the show all the studio audience members were asked to create a Craigslist add and Jimmy read Alec’s add, “Lost, Western Civ notebook in the basement of the Empire State Building. If found, please contact…” Jimmy then asked about the student sitting beside him – a girl named Brittany, who also attends The King’s College. He inquired, “So are you two dating?” They responded, “No” and a brief moment of awkward silence followed which then spurred on laughter by Jimmy and the entire studio audience.
Greg told me that the best part was at the end of the show when Jimmy came up to him and gave him a huge bear hug. I considered that if I hugged Greg, perhaps the hug that Jimmy Fallon gave him might somehow transfer to me. (I determined it wouldn't and refrained from hugging Greg.) Although I’ve never watched Jimmy’s late night show, I think he is unbelievably charming and humorous. Granted, most of what I know of him is what I’ve picked up in the movies, and may not actually be an accurate depiction of who he is; however, if given the opportunity, I wouldn’t mind going on a date with him. Then again, I kind of suspect he’s married.
Google check: yep, he’s been married for a few years now to Nancy Juvonen. Okay, forget the date; instead I’d like to be a guest on his show. Perhaps once my book is published he’ll invite me on his show to discuss its contents. I know I’m dreaming, but you never know. After all, living New York City use to simply be a dream and now it’s my reality. When you dream aloud, you never know who might hear your dreams, and what might come of them. And it may be a prayer that only God hears, but it could also be that friend or acquaintance who hears your dream, and decides that they want to help make it come true.
If you stumbled across this post, I would love for you to leave a comment, sharing a middle of nowhere experience that you have had. Or perhaps share a dream that you have – a dream, that perhaps you’ve been too afraid voice or to pursue. Speak it, my friends.
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