Favorite Person of the Day: Micah

Why? Well, if I may steal a Lana-esque way of phrasing things:

Smallville.

Season premiere.

Pancakes.

Smallville is awesome. I love superhero shows, even shows with ridiculous continuity leaps like Jimmy Olsen being about the same age as Clark Kent. It helps when Jimmy Olsen is played by Iceman, who is just one of those all-around likeable types.

And this was the first time I've ever gotten to see a first-run Smallville season premiere on premiere night. I've usually had to wait several weeks. I've been advance-geeking-out about this for weeks, and now I'm post-geeking-out.

So thanks, Micah.

Most Horrifying Thing I've Ever Seen in a K&B Toy Store

Desperate Housewives: The Dirty Laundry Game

Thoughts on tutoring for ESL

I signed up for ESL tutoring for several reasons:

• I speak English
• I majored in communicating
• I thought, "Here is a service I can perform with my gifts"
• I have often feared both commitment and failure, and signing up for five months of ESL tutoring was signing up for ample helpings of both

That last one is really on the list. But I didn't realize it until after I signed up.

Pulling back into observer status, I find myself paranoid that I will (get this) single-handedly screw up this child forever. FOREVER! Me! Ohhhh, the power I wield!

Ha.... I am such a nerd....

As my dad says, this will be a good experience no matter what happens. I hereby choose to define this ESL "experiment" as a success--for me and for Hassan. He is 8 years old, and so he is still in the prime years for language acquisition. He'll pick English skills up quickly, and I will be there to help him when he needs to figure things out. It'll be a learning experience for both of us, in various ways.

*deep breath*

Okay. I'm ready to learn.

Random Acts of Acceptance

The link Brittany provided in the last comment section led me to a page in which a young man said that offering kindness took guts, and so he appreciated it when people (girls, particularly) responded with "thank you" instead of "no, I'm fine."

I was thinking about that today when I was at the home of the Somali refugees my church is helping. The mother doesn't speak English, but when I was standing in her living room she pulled out a chair for me. I resisted my initial impulse to offer the chair to her instead, said "Thank you," and sat down.

I was also thinking about offering and accepting kindness tonight when the man in front of me at the grocery store offered me his place in line. I said, "No, thanks, I'm okay standing in line," and I had to say it more than once. I don't think he was a native English speaker.

I was thinking of the latter incident on the way home when I decided to make a carpooling offer after all, even though I would rather drive solo to my destination tonight.

Thanks for the link, Brittany. It has made me think. :)

Chivalry

[More about ESL in another post or so, Jessie. I haven’t forgotten you.]

A lively discussion on chivalry broke out in the comment section of a recent blog post that my friend Brittany wrote. (I comment as Prin there, for the record, for reasons I choose not to reveal.) Someone had told her that chivalry was dead, and that any action interpreted as chivalry should really be interpreted as "that boy wants to date me."

Whether or not the person who made that comment really meant it seriously, it bothered me a lot. I only just realized why today.

Today's Revelation

I don't know what the word "chivalry" means to everyone. To me, it means looking out for the interests of others. I refuse to believe that the only reason someone of the opposite sex would look out for my interests is because he wants to date me. To me, that makes kindness a means to an end--"if I am gracious, generous, and civil to this person, I can get what I want from her." How horrifyingly demeaning.

I choose to believe that people of both sexes can be honestly concerned about others in such a way that they would potentially inconvenience themselves by taking action for other people.

Bear in mind that this is a reaction to a perceived use of the word "chivalry," not to anyone's stated personal definition of the word. Really, I dislike the word. It seems like a bumper-sticker version of an important concept. And like the word "romance," which is another word I have problems with, it seems to have acquired a thick layer of chicanery (a word with which I am still okay).

*shiver of excitement/fear*

Why the shiver, you ask?

I had ESL tutor training tonight. I'm going to be tutoring someone who just came from a refugee camp in Somalia. I've committed to this for the next 6 months. I don't know when my schedule will be. I don't know when I'll be doing the other things I have in my life, because I don't know what my schedule will be. I am wondering if my stated availability is actually untrue, based on other commitments I have made. My time is not my own. Which is a good reminder.

The training itself was exciting. I'm most excited about the most scary things: learning to plan lessons, to speak simply, to think on my feet, to interact with people from a very different culture. I'm afraid of failing--failing the child I will probably be working with, failing his family, failing the organization, failing life. Because that's what this is, now. Life. It isn't school anymore. There are no more top grades to be handed out. But there are no more failing grades, either.

I wonder what my life will look like in six months? I have this strange feeling that it could be much different than I expect right now.

Exciting, in a scary way.

I'm a second cousin!

Who -- Landunn Walter Tagert (son of my cousin Heidi and her husband Nate)
When -- 9:09 p.m. this evening
What the stats are -- about 20 1/2 inches, and about 8 pounds and 1 oz. (surprisingly small considering his dad is more like 6'7" and proportionately large)
Why women care about these details -- I don't know

I don't call babies miracles, because they're produced by natural processes. But then, so is a really good sunset, or a beautiful starry night, or the laughter of a friend. We have a God that does the amazing EVERY DAY! So a new baby may be natural, but not one is common.

Here's to Landunn, who had at least two nicknames waiting for him before he was even born. He's the firstborn of the next generation in my family! I've never met him, but I love him already.

*claps hands excitedly*

Yay!

Tonight...

...I saw a kid I hadn't seen in years. He's not really a kid now. Actually, he's only a year or two younger than I am. But I knew him at college, when I was a few class years ahead of him, so "kid" was the first word that came to mind. I was his Spanish conversation group leader, and he was the slacker kid who didn't do his homework—as he himself was saying tonight. I had started to re-introduce myself, since we hadn't seen each other in at least five years, but he remembered me. He said he remembered one specific session in which I reacted to him with one of my sigh-and-shake-of-the-head-in-semi-despair moves (soon-to-be-patented).

...I met a friend's roommate, and she said she'd heard me spoken of very highly. We talked for a while and I saw why my friend had spoken of her so highly.

...I talked to a budding acquaintance. We exchanged a lot of amused looks and appreciative comments.

Something about being remembered, being praised, and being enjoyed makes me feel I can live up to everything involved in being a person who is treated this way.

...I am filled to overflowing.

Denver Adventures

The Airports

The TSA came through for me once again with a sign warning me that the "Bandara Ngurah Rai International Airport in Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia does not maintain and administer effective aviation security measures."

I have to make a conscious effort to shut my brain off in an airport and on an airplane so that I don't think about the sheer volume of people before me who have used the same chairs, touched the same surfaces, and walked the same ground, with who knows what on their shoes. Another huge thing I don't want to think about: public restrooms. Possibly it wasn't a great idea to bring a Monk novel on this trip. But it was good to have a book to while away the extra hours I spent in the airport on the first day due to mechanical problems with the planes.

I was talking on the phone to Dad and wondering aloud why you could bring 4 oz. of contact lens solution in an opaque container onto the plane, but not 4 oz. of water in a clear container. Dad's response: "That's so you and your ten friends onboard can't flood the airplane."

The Cows

Kerri and I went to downtown Denver on Saturday and walked around. Here we are waiting for the light rail to take us downtown:



We saw many cows from the Cow Parade. Some of my favorites:

This one is called "It's Your Moove." I'm sure cows never get tired of that joke.

This cow was outside Barnes & Noble.

The Hikes

We went on a few easy hikes. I got to read Harry Potter books out loud on the way out and back. Ah, the joy of fellowship with a kindred spirit! ("Nymphadohhhra....")

Here we are at Alberta Falls:

(I got Kerri taking pictures of her feet by the end of this trip. The tradition lives on.)

And here is an acquaintance we met at Bear Lake:

We also spent time at Kerri's house, watching movies and being panted at and entertained by her golden retriever, Chester. He's a Red Wings fan, like Kerri is.

I thought this would seem like a nice long trip, but it turns out Kerri and I don't get sick of each other's company that quickly. Which is cool. The hiking was fun, and the movies were fun, but they were all better because I shared them with such an awesome friend. So here's to you, Kerri! Thanks for a great trip!

Denver in Digital: Random Pictures

The Denver baggage claim area features these Borg regeneration cubicle things. It is possible that much of their airline staff is really composed of partly or fully mechanical beings who regenerate during slow hours. Colorado residents such as my friend Kerri pose an alternate theory--the "they're for golf bags and skis" theory. When I told her I'd never seen such a thing before, she countered by saying most airports probably don't have as much of a need for them. Sounds about right.

That would be Combos.

I like taking pictures of signs. Especially signs that remind me of people. I think my friend Brittany needs the sign above.

Brittany's younger brother needs to be told not to vandalize trees in a national park. Even if they are short-lived aspens. It is still not cool.

"Huh"?

There were several signs referring to buffalo, as well as a few buffalo statues. When I took this picture, I didn't expect the bonus--the most prominent lettering on the T-shirt hanging in the window says "Dad." Awww! How appropriate!

For last year's Arizona trip companions.

Later: more on Denver. Now: sleep.

Just a few more weary days and then...

Actually, I'm flying away Friday morning. So...less than a few days.

Flying in these troubled times is at first nerve-wracking, then rather hilarious. Because, seriously, even if my life were governed by statistics, which it isn't, there is still probably a greater statistical probability of me accidentally slicing a major artery with a box cutter on the job than of my plane being hijacked by terrorists. Boy, will this be an uncomfortable post to read if my plane IS hijacked by terrorists. If that happens, I would ask two things: one, try to see the funny side of this; and two, please take care of this bear...I mean, bird. Who will, speaking of flying, be getting his wings clipped so he doesn't kamikaze-attack his new sitter, not that this would be likely to happen. (She reads this blog.)

But enough about his flying (which won't happen). Back to mine.

The trauma and the hilarity of flying are one, and for "one" you could very well insert "baggage," except that wouldn't hold up well grammatically. Let's review my Big Baggage Fears of Labor Day Weekend 2006: 1) No water; 2) no chapstick; 3) no recourse if the TSA decides mobile phones really aren't allowed and that they'd rather throw mine in the trash. A quick review of some pertinent websites reveals that some people have bigger problems than I do! For instance, Northwest Airlines warns their passengers that they can "expect to be asked to remove all shoes at security checkpoints." ALL shoes, folks. Not both, but ALL. While you're thinking about that one, how about my favorite on the TSA's list of prohibited items: Spear Gun. Yes, fellow citizens, while I'm worried about my lips drying out and cracking, some Captain Ahab wanna-be is going to have to check his dream at the gate.

It was good to see this sign that the TSA was thinking of me when they created their website: "We also ask that you follow the guidelines above and try not to over-think these guidelines. "

Awww.

They don't call him Big Brother for nothing.

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

Another Yahoo! News gem: "Spain prepares for tomato-throwing festival." That crazy Spain!

Currently pondering: A way to say "That's none of your business" without saying "That's none of your business," or at least without sounding catty. Also, how to sew a button on a fried egg [in joke].

Did you ever notice that lots of strangers read your blog? (Sorry, Lisa.) Apparently, somebody in Greece visited my reading journal recently. Of course, it could all be an elaborate ruse, and all this traffic from other states and countries could turn out to be one or both of my computer genius friends trying to hide their IP addresses.

Just in case....

To anybody out there who wouldn't recognize me if I stood five feet away and stared at you intently: Hi. I hope I helped ease your ennui for just a moment. Have a nice night.

As you go on your way, perhaps never to visit again, I would like to leave you with this one thought: maybe that person staring at you in a creepy/fascinating manner really is me. Introduce yourself next time and find out.

Love, luck, and lollipops,
Shopgirl

By popular demand...

...of Abby, that is, here is the next installment of Build-Your-Own-Celebrity.

Abigail "insert today's nickname here" Tjapkes was born the third son of the Tjapkes family. At least, so her two older brothers tried to make her believe. As part of her male indoctrination, they tried to cause brain injuries through activities like hockey and sledding. They wouldn't let poor Abby join in any raind--girl-like games. Thus, she grew up without such things as Jump Five, glitter, and large amounts of pink. They are things she does not regret.

I got to know "Abby," as I call her, when she was props mistress for a little show I like to call The Importance of Being Earnest (abridged school-gym version). She also cameoed as the cocktail waitress--unless I mean the character who brings out the tea. We have since worked together in a larger-scale production known as Tim-and-Lisa's wedding.

Abby enjoys watching sports (notably hockey), playing sports (notably ultimate frisbee), and dreaming about sports (notably Michigan players). She is also a fan of the superhero and fantasy genres, with Batman and The Lord of the Rings ranking as favorites.

Abby is tragically afflicted with Celiac disease, a disease which not only makes it impossible for her to be exposed to any gluten product without nasty stomach-wrenching, head-aching consequences, but also makes her predisposed to turning into a seal (under the right conditions, obviously). It is in her alternative guise as a seal that she does most of her own crime-battling work, a work made difficult by the fact that she lives in the suburbs and not near any large bodies of water.

And now for some fanfiction:


It had been a long, hard day for Abby Tjapkes. People who had once called themselves her friends had chased her for hours with a bag of bread crumbs, a flour sifter, and a Jump Five CD.

"If only people would understand," she mused morosely. She cast an angst-ridden gaze out of the window.

Then, she felt it. A crumb. Under her sock. In her left shoe.

"NOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!!!" she cried. "Not again! Not so soon! Curse you, Pink Baroness!"

A figure clad in sparkly pink leaped from the shadows. It was indeed the Pink Baroness--Abby's arch-enemy; the only enemy who knew her secret identity; and, incidentally, her younger roommate.

"AHH-hahahaHA!" laughed the Pink Baroness. "Not as dumb as you look, are you? But how did you figure it out this time?"

"As if I would tell you," said Abby, the image of the Jump Five CD lingering in her mind.

"Well, drat," said the Pink Baroness.

There was only one thing to do. Well, only two things.

"Look!" said Abby, pointing at a mirror behind the Pink Baroness. "Your hair is out of place!"

"It is NOT!" said the Pink Baroness, but she turned anxiously to the mirror anyway.

Quickly, Abby whistled the secret code, and her sidekick came running.

"Eggplant!" she said. "You know what to do!"

Her sidekick looked at her in confusion, then realized that "Eggplant" must just be the latest random name she had. It was new every few days.

The small blond girl ran to a nearby shelf and pulled out a teaspoonful of salt, which she stirred into a handy glass of water.

"Faster, Eggplant, faster!"

"It's ready!" said Eggplant.

"Do it now, while the Pink Baroness is stuck admiring her own reflection!"

Eggplant tossed the glass of salt water at Abby, and the transformation began--the transformation that so often occurred after gluten exposure--the transformation that had necessitated Abby employ a sidekick to answer phone calls and emails with "sorry, but my stomach/head/kneecap is hurting too much" excuses--the transformation into...SEALYAQ!

Sealyaq, who was constantly being harrassed by people saying her name was too difficult to pronounce, leapt into action, flopping across the floor just as the Pink Baroness turned.

"Selly...sealyy.... Ack!" cried the Pink Baroness. "Why must your name be so confoundedly difficult to pronounce??"

Sealyaq reared up on her back flippers. Eggplant tossed a ball. Sealyaq caught the ball on her nose. She waved a front flipper at the Pink Baroness.

"You...you...." The Pink Baroness sighed. "Awww, man...you know I can't hurt anything cute. I'm going to the mall."

She stormed out of the room, turning only to shout, "And if all my fish are gone again when I come home, I'll know why!"

The door slammed. Eggplant gave Sealyaq a high five on the flipper.

The world was safe once again.

Spidey Wisdom

"Some days I almost wish the world would go away, so I wouldn't have to worry about things. But if it did--if everything that bothered me vanished--then all the good things would vanish too."

Build Your Own Celebrity

First off, I have to draw your attention to this Yahoo! News item: "Giant invasive oysters found in S.F. Bay." I didn't put a link because I didn't actually read the article. There was no way it could live up to that title.

But the main reason for this post is that my friend Beth wrote a great post on the nature of celebrity. (Beth was once a celebrity herself, to me, anyway, until she got promoted to "super-cool-and-talented friend," or "friend" for short.) As I thought about what celebrity means to me, the first two things that came to mind that set celebrities in general apart from the rest of us are: image saturation, or seeing pictures of the celebrity anywhere and everywhere, doing anything and everything; and fan websites.

Now, I can't promise to follow any one of you around taking random pictures of you. You should be grateful for this, because I have not mastered the art of taking candid shots in which the subject's eyes are 1) open and 2) not red.

I have not made a website on my own since Theatre History class, which was something like aeons ago in computer years. So that's not really going to work, either.

Fan blog posts, however, are an option. For the subject of my first fan blog post, I will use Beth Dekker, because she inspired the whole thing.

Beth Dekker was born Name-Which-Must-Not-Be-Used-Never-Mind, in a small town west of Calcutta. She is trained in absurdist theatre and the finer points of making gallons of salsa at one time. Her hair does this fun wavy thing, and she also has beautiful eyes. My first real recollection of interacting with Beth in a meaningful way was in a Playwriting class. Later on, I would take part in a Bible study to which Beth invited me. I remember meeting at her apartment, and I would marvel at the number of herbs and tomato plants growing on her balcony. (Notice my self-validation through talk of personal experience with this celebrity.)

And now for some fanfiction:

Beth Dekker strode into the empty theatre and stopped abruptly. She squinted to stare at the empty stage. It wasn't empty enough. She tilted her head to listen to the silence in the theatre. It wasn't silent enough. 'We can do better than this,' she implied with a subtle lift of an eyebrow. As she turned to leave, she ran into a familiar-looking man.

"Mark Rylance!" she gasped. "My hero!"

"I'm no hero," said Mark Rylance humbly. "I'm just an out-of-work actor."

"Out of work?" Beth asked incredulously.

"Since my last show wrapped, yes," Mark Rylance replied.

"When was that?"

"Last night."

Beth stared speechlessly.

"I heard you'd be here," said Mark Rylance. "I was hoping...."

Beth waited.

"Well, you see...I've always wanted to play Man in Beckett's 'Play,' but I've never heard of a director I trusted to bring it off."

Pause.

"Until today."

Beth gaped.

Mark Rylance waited.

A silence louder than any crowd rushed over the theatre.

'This is better,' Beth said (but only with a twitch of the lips that was almost a smile).

Mark Rylance nodded.

They raised their eyes to the stage.

It was empty.

Empty.

Of all but hope.

SCENE

Dream Log

I don't know if this is true of most people, but my dreams/memories often play out like home movies. That is, I know it is me in them, but I usually see myself from the outside instead of seeing the event through my eyes. I also tend to have extremely vivid dreams in emotionally tense times. (This morning I took a close friend to the airport because she is moving back to California after nine years in Michigan.)

The other night, I dreamed I was Elizabeth in Pirates of the Caribbean. (In my view-from-the-outside moments, I was Kiera Knightley as Elizabeth.) I had some magical power/device that emitted blue rays that caused the top of a sand dune to change to a brilliant white, making it easier to locate the place where the treasure was buried. I also played a scene with Jack Sparrow.

Almost immediately afterwards, I had this bizarre Lifetime-movie dream in which I (again, not really me but me as someone else) was chased down on a sidewalk at night, knocked down, shot in the spine, and paralyzed. (All of which I knew was going to happen before it did, but still had to play out.) I was waiting for the gunman to fire a kill shot, but he was either fooled by my playing possum or he had already accomplished his goal. I had a long rehab, in which my family stood by me like the troopers they are (or maybe it was my family playing my character's family). Then there was a fairly touching recovery where I regained most of my movement, and could get out of the wheelchair to shuffle across the room and hug my mom. When I woke up, I could still feel a tube in my neck.

Can this possibly be my brain de-stressing? A paralysis story and (more disturbing) Jack Sparrow?

Lois Lane's Top Ten Signs Your Boyfriend May Be a Manipulator/Manipulative Psychopath

10. He seems to be wearing a hairpiece.
9. He has a god complex, but laughs it off.
8. He favors windowless buildings underground or far removed from civilization.
7. You have an exchange like this—Him: "You remind me of someone." You: "Who?" Him: "The woman of my dreams."—and he seems to be taking it seriously.
6. He pushes you into crime in a don't-knock-it-til-you've-tried-it sort of way.
5. You can't remember who you are or anything about your past, and he's all over you like white on rice.
4. While you're trying to recover your memories, he suggests major life changes like moving to the south of France.
3. There is another man always hovering around looking tortured whenever he sees your boyfriend touching you, and your boyfriend seems to get a kick out of this.
2. The veins on his head twitch when you mention major figures in your life, such as a coworker or a close friend.
1. He is anybody but Clark Kent.

Suzanne Lives!!!

Thank you very much.

This weekend was horrible, then awesome, then horrible, then awesome, so that in balance it was good and I'm becoming nostalgic for it. It was challenging in a lot of ways, I met a lot of people, I got pushed and pulled out of my comfort zone several times, I ran up against my dark side several times, I told my story, I received new chances. I realized things I already knew in stronger ways, I practiced communicating intentionally, I got sick of my usual schemes and lies to myself and saw a way out of them.

Favorite quotes of the weekend:

"A person with a commitment is not held hostage by circumstances."

"Up until now...."

"From now on...."


I would love to talk about this more with any of you who want to hear about it, but it really isn't an electronic conversation. Although I'm sure bits of the experience will sift through electronically. I feel alternately like nothing ever happened and like I'm filled to bursting with all of this.

It was good.


And now for something completely different. Check out this link. You will thank me.

http://forum.creatusmaximus.com/showthread.php?t=1264

Family quotes

"People who read are stupid. Write that down somewhere where people can read it." -- Jeremiah

"I have a couple things to say to you about this weekend. Don't let them shave your head. Don't drink the Kool-Aid, even if you're really thirsty. And we're praying for you." -- Dad

Boot Camp (my version)

This weekend, I'm going to boot camp. At least, I'm going to my version of boot camp, which means Vulnerability Fest. This is where I'll be: http://www.accd.org/index.cfm/pages/48

The website doesn't explain very much or very well. I went to the informational meeting and I'm still not entirely sure what's going to happen, which is adding to the boot-campness of it for me. Here's what I know: a) I'm going at the urging of a friend who went and found it both freeing and empowering; b) I'm expecting that any freed and empowered state would make me a better soldier in this age-old war; c) I'm realizing that I'm really scared.

I'm thinking, fairly or unfairly, that people are more likely to pray for someone in actual boot camp, featuring actual physical injuries and actual godless intimidation tactics. Or maybe someone with cancer. Or someone without a job. You know, somebody with "real" problems.

What I'm hoping for is compassion.

Please pray. I know He hears. And I know that He never hears without taking action.


"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.

"Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen."

~~ Ephesians 3:14-21