I've been doing a fair bit of traveling lately (with more to come.. at least 6 more plane trips in the next month) and getting on a plane always seems to inspire what little spiritual energy resides in me. Take off and landing move me to prayer. I'd like to think that this is not a result of a fear of flying (at least not really.. perhaps just an acknowledgment that flying in a plane puts my safety almost completely in the hands of others and, sometimes at least, in the hand of chance or god (take your pick)) but more a fear of pain and death (same difference?). At the moment when a plane starts to jettison down the runway I always find myself thinking "God, please bless this flight." This incantation is usually repeated when my stomach jumps a bit at the sound of wheels and pressure being lowered as the plane heads for home.
Who am I to ask God to bless my travels; and who is this God I'm supposedly speaking to? If there is a God and he picks favorites to bless or curse I certainly have done very little worship-wise to buy my way into his good graces so why should he bless me especially when he has forsaken so many others (who are often arguably more virtuous)? On the other hand... I'm a good person, I smile at strangers and try to give a little to charity -- so why not me? But then why should I have to remind God to save my ass with my little chant? Isn't he omniscient? Shouldn't he know (or at least presume) that I would not enjoy dying in a plane crash?
Twice in one day people.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Reading this article: Disowning Conservative Politics, Evangelical Pastor Rattles Flock
I found this especially poignant:
“More and more people are saying this has gone too far — the dominance of the evangelical identity by the religious right,” Mr. McLaren said. “You cannot say the word ‘Jesus’ in 2006 without having an awful lot of baggage going along with it. You can’t say the word ‘Christian,’ and you certainly can’t say the word ‘evangelical’ without it now raising connotations and a certain cringe factor in people.
I've heard a bit of mumbling in the conservative media about how Christians are discriminated against and while I'd like to deny that I am anti-Christian I have to admit that when someone describes themselves as Christian I bristle. I think this passage captures a lot of what I feel. The church has aligned itself with the republican agenda and often seems to support conservative politics without asking questions. Somehow this has managed to overshadow the traditional Christian beliefs (I think we can all agree on things like "love thy neighbor"). The church would do well to instill a little more critical thinking in its flock. Of cours critical thinking is a very dangerous tool when dealing with faith. Can Christians learn to question politics without also learning to question church doctrine?
Yes, I know I never update my blog...
I found this especially poignant:
“More and more people are saying this has gone too far — the dominance of the evangelical identity by the religious right,” Mr. McLaren said. “You cannot say the word ‘Jesus’ in 2006 without having an awful lot of baggage going along with it. You can’t say the word ‘Christian,’ and you certainly can’t say the word ‘evangelical’ without it now raising connotations and a certain cringe factor in people.
I've heard a bit of mumbling in the conservative media about how Christians are discriminated against and while I'd like to deny that I am anti-Christian I have to admit that when someone describes themselves as Christian I bristle. I think this passage captures a lot of what I feel. The church has aligned itself with the republican agenda and often seems to support conservative politics without asking questions. Somehow this has managed to overshadow the traditional Christian beliefs (I think we can all agree on things like "love thy neighbor"). The church would do well to instill a little more critical thinking in its flock. Of cours critical thinking is a very dangerous tool when dealing with faith. Can Christians learn to question politics without also learning to question church doctrine?
Yes, I know I never update my blog...
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Distraction in the form of greenery
This was going to be a post about self confidence... until I got distracted by my first CSA delivery.
Veggie delivery #1 is a pint of strawberries, a huge bunch of red leaf lettuce, a bunch of purple topped chives, a few leeks and some rhubarb. The good news is that I can definitely polish off this shipment in a week without much
help... the bad new is that come Friday I'll be melancholy and vegetable-less.... until next Tuesday
Miss Alia and her beautiful boys came over for dinner and we made a big salad with the lettuce and chives (and other non-CSA goodies) and a very yummy rhubarb compote which I served over ice cream. I used this recipe for the compote but I halved the sugar and used cranberry juice because I had it on hand.
My first flower delivery also arrived and I'll be very sad on the weeks with no flowers -- these peony's are pretty enough to make it possible to overlook how messy my house is (having a job and boyfriend and friends and well... a life... make it hard to get the cleaning done).
Veggie delivery #1 is a pint of strawberries, a huge bunch of red leaf lettuce, a bunch of purple topped chives, a few leeks and some rhubarb. The good news is that I can definitely polish off this shipment in a week without much
help... the bad new is that come Friday I'll be melancholy and vegetable-less.... until next TuesdayMiss Alia and her beautiful boys came over for dinner and we made a big salad with the lettuce and chives (and other non-CSA goodies) and a very yummy rhubarb compote which I served over ice cream. I used this recipe for the compote but I halved the sugar and used cranberry juice because I had it on hand.
My first flower delivery also arrived and I'll be very sad on the weeks with no flowers -- these peony's are pretty enough to make it possible to overlook how messy my house is (having a job and boyfriend and friends and well... a life... make it hard to get the cleaning done).
Thursday, May 18, 2006
I Broke Victoria's Secret
Yesterday I made a visit to the bra super store on a desperate mission for a tshirt bra. I did all the annoying difficult things:
1. Accepted that I would probably be paying full price
2. Talked to sales people
3. Allowed sales people to measure me
4. Walked around for strangers in only my bra.
No matter what size or style I tried on the middle band stretched in midair between my breasts instead of resting on the valley floor. Eventually the sales lady admitted that Victoria's Secret would not be able to provide me with a bra that fits. Apparently I am a huge freak.
So lesson of the day: Being a girl sucks. Boys never have to go to multiple store trying on pair after pair of underwear only to find NONE that fit correctly. This is why they have tons of extra time to take over the governments of the world. Boys suck.
So now I may have to do the most annoyed and difficult thing of all: Go to a fancy pants bra store. This will surly result in G thinking that he was right even though obviously it is impossible for him to be right because the law of the universe dictate that you can have a penis OR you can have an opinion about where people should buy bras, you cannot have both.
1. Accepted that I would probably be paying full price
2. Talked to sales people
3. Allowed sales people to measure me
4. Walked around for strangers in only my bra.
No matter what size or style I tried on the middle band stretched in midair between my breasts instead of resting on the valley floor. Eventually the sales lady admitted that Victoria's Secret would not be able to provide me with a bra that fits. Apparently I am a huge freak.
So lesson of the day: Being a girl sucks. Boys never have to go to multiple store trying on pair after pair of underwear only to find NONE that fit correctly. This is why they have tons of extra time to take over the governments of the world. Boys suck.
So now I may have to do the most annoyed and difficult thing of all: Go to a fancy pants bra store. This will surly result in G thinking that he was right even though obviously it is impossible for him to be right because the law of the universe dictate that you can have a penis OR you can have an opinion about where people should buy bras, you cannot have both.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Thoughts on Gender
G has been working occasionally on a friend's movie about a female to male trans-sexual so I've been mulling over my thoughts on the topic for the past few months.
I can get behind the idea that an individual feels that their gender was somehow miss-assigned at birth. Since we live in a society that defines so much of a person's being based solely on their gender I can see how someone would feel that this miss-assignment needed to be rectified. I'm completely ok with someone deciding to live life as the opposite gender but when the issues of hormone replacement and surgery enter the picture I start feeling a little less sure of what's "ok".
I can't get behind cosmetic surgery when it comes to bigger boobs or thinner thighs. If a friend were to tell me that they were born with the wrong nose and wanted to correct this error by having a much cuter nose surgically installed I would advise them to learn to love the nose they were given and, perhaps more importantly, to reevaluate how important a cute nose is to their sense of self. In general I think that we should be happy with who we are and try to avoid surgery or chemically altering our bodies if they're not broken. I guess, ultimately, I'm not sure if i consider a miss-assigned gender a broken body. I'm a girl, inside and out so it's hard for me to relate to wanting to change my gender but I can't imagine cutting apart a body that has supported me my whole life.
I can get behind the idea that an individual feels that their gender was somehow miss-assigned at birth. Since we live in a society that defines so much of a person's being based solely on their gender I can see how someone would feel that this miss-assignment needed to be rectified. I'm completely ok with someone deciding to live life as the opposite gender but when the issues of hormone replacement and surgery enter the picture I start feeling a little less sure of what's "ok".
I can't get behind cosmetic surgery when it comes to bigger boobs or thinner thighs. If a friend were to tell me that they were born with the wrong nose and wanted to correct this error by having a much cuter nose surgically installed I would advise them to learn to love the nose they were given and, perhaps more importantly, to reevaluate how important a cute nose is to their sense of self. In general I think that we should be happy with who we are and try to avoid surgery or chemically altering our bodies if they're not broken. I guess, ultimately, I'm not sure if i consider a miss-assigned gender a broken body. I'm a girl, inside and out so it's hard for me to relate to wanting to change my gender but I can't imagine cutting apart a body that has supported me my whole life.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Charm City
G and I went to Baltimore this weekend because we like to think outside of the box when it comes to romance. Also because he's creative and stuff.
A good time was had by all -- I particularly enjoyed the colorful folks we met along the way.
The first was a couple sitting next to us at lunch on Saturday. He was deaf Christian musician, she a restaurant owner who also plays professional poker(Jesus loves the gambling -- and not just with souls of the living!). I had ordered polenta to go with my yummy (if a bit cliche) Maryland crab cake and she leaned over to ask what polenta was. Since she had a bit of a southern drawl I told her it was like grits which somehow lead to her invited G to drive to Atlantic city with her to play some poker. I was of course very worried by this -- I'm cute and all but the boy loves his cards. Luckily he's (wisely) afraid of a 6 hour car ride with a mysterious 45 year old woman even if he's not afraid of me dumping his ass. The best part of this interaction came as the couple was leaving and the lady turned to me and said, "Happy Mother's Day... I hope not." I assured her I was not a mother but I'm not sure why she was so disapproving. I'd like to believe that my tummy just looks too firm to have once held a baby but I suspect she was either disapproving because I had not claimed G as my husband or because we both look young-ish (and man MD is very into carding people -- I almost forgot that I'm sneaking up on 30).
Colorful Folk number 3 accosted us on the sidewalk outside of our hotel. He has the weirdest accent I had ever heard, it was Scottish meats southern Tennesee and G swears it's the typical Baltimore accent (enhanced by a good portion of booze). I could barely understand half of what he said but I did get that he is "not the town drunk, though [he was] a little drunk." and that I should not "be scared of the black people, they ain't scared of [me]." He also encouraged G and I to "spend the whole night in [our] hotel room fucking!" This was when we waved awkwardly and quickly walked away trying not too giggle too loudly (we are, after all, almost 30, not 11 -- a fact that shocks both bar tenders and mature adults alike).
Our next dose of Baltimore hospitality came by the keg-load. We were in the hotel enjoying the pool and sauna when in stumbled 15 waxed and oiled hunks of frat boy on a mission. It was the usual mission -- get drunk, engage in homo erotic behavior, make vaguely sexist comments and then trick a member of the fairer sex into making a life long commitment to raising one of their own. They joined us in the sauna and preceded to pour beer on the rocks (no boys, it does not smell better in here now, and beer never ever is served on the rocks -- you seem like beer experts I'd have expected you to know this already.) and then play a rollicking game of "shoulders" where they got to beat on each others bare chests. We soon returned to our room.
Our cabbie yesterday afternoon at first seemed fairly normal, until we got lost looking for a movie theatre buried in the John Hopkin's university campus. We're driving around feeling perplexed that 40th street does not appear in between 39th St and 41st St when he announces, "I have to go to the hospital." Hoping that he did not mean immediately I hesitantly asked why to which he replied, "I have a lot of pain." I really had no where to go with that so I sat quietly until he announced "I'm very tired, I might fall asleep." Trying to lighten things up I joked, "You shouldn't tell us that while you're driving us around." He said, "well you should know, I might get in an accident." I was quiet for the duration of the ride except for the very loud eye raising in G's direction.
So we learned that when G and I join our powers together we become FREAK MAGNET! At least we'll never be bored.
A good time was had by all -- I particularly enjoyed the colorful folks we met along the way.
The first was a couple sitting next to us at lunch on Saturday. He was deaf Christian musician, she a restaurant owner who also plays professional poker(Jesus loves the gambling -- and not just with souls of the living!). I had ordered polenta to go with my yummy (if a bit cliche) Maryland crab cake and she leaned over to ask what polenta was. Since she had a bit of a southern drawl I told her it was like grits which somehow lead to her invited G to drive to Atlantic city with her to play some poker. I was of course very worried by this -- I'm cute and all but the boy loves his cards. Luckily he's (wisely) afraid of a 6 hour car ride with a mysterious 45 year old woman even if he's not afraid of me dumping his ass. The best part of this interaction came as the couple was leaving and the lady turned to me and said, "Happy Mother's Day... I hope not." I assured her I was not a mother but I'm not sure why she was so disapproving. I'd like to believe that my tummy just looks too firm to have once held a baby but I suspect she was either disapproving because I had not claimed G as my husband or because we both look young-ish (and man MD is very into carding people -- I almost forgot that I'm sneaking up on 30).
Colorful Folk number 3 accosted us on the sidewalk outside of our hotel. He has the weirdest accent I had ever heard, it was Scottish meats southern Tennesee and G swears it's the typical Baltimore accent (enhanced by a good portion of booze). I could barely understand half of what he said but I did get that he is "not the town drunk, though [he was] a little drunk." and that I should not "be scared of the black people, they ain't scared of [me]." He also encouraged G and I to "spend the whole night in [our] hotel room fucking!" This was when we waved awkwardly and quickly walked away trying not too giggle too loudly (we are, after all, almost 30, not 11 -- a fact that shocks both bar tenders and mature adults alike).
Our next dose of Baltimore hospitality came by the keg-load. We were in the hotel enjoying the pool and sauna when in stumbled 15 waxed and oiled hunks of frat boy on a mission. It was the usual mission -- get drunk, engage in homo erotic behavior, make vaguely sexist comments and then trick a member of the fairer sex into making a life long commitment to raising one of their own. They joined us in the sauna and preceded to pour beer on the rocks (no boys, it does not smell better in here now, and beer never ever is served on the rocks -- you seem like beer experts I'd have expected you to know this already.) and then play a rollicking game of "shoulders" where they got to beat on each others bare chests. We soon returned to our room.
Our cabbie yesterday afternoon at first seemed fairly normal, until we got lost looking for a movie theatre buried in the John Hopkin's university campus. We're driving around feeling perplexed that 40th street does not appear in between 39th St and 41st St when he announces, "I have to go to the hospital." Hoping that he did not mean immediately I hesitantly asked why to which he replied, "I have a lot of pain." I really had no where to go with that so I sat quietly until he announced "I'm very tired, I might fall asleep." Trying to lighten things up I joked, "You shouldn't tell us that while you're driving us around." He said, "well you should know, I might get in an accident." I was quiet for the duration of the ride except for the very loud eye raising in G's direction.
So we learned that when G and I join our powers together we become FREAK MAGNET! At least we'll never be bored.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Free Cuppa
People are very passionate about coffee. They love it. They need it. It’s amazing. It’s awful. It’s spawned clichés, devotees and a million kitsch gift ideas (Best of: A friend of mine has a “fuck decaf” bumper sticker). It’s the goto topic for morning elevator banter (“Tired huh?” “Yeah, no caffeine yet.” “The Monday morning giver of life, eh?” “Yeah, I actually prefer the blood of newborn possums suckled from their warm little bellies but caffeine’ll do in a pinch.”).
All of the coffee flavors have a blogger related theme. My favorite was “New Media Mavericks – Unfiltered Truth” because that’s what I o
ffer here at Random Access Babble: Truth about important topics like my bras. G and I also tried “Bloggers Pajama Passion – Life is Short, Blog Hard.” In the spirit of getting the full Pajama Passion experience we drank this in our pajamas at 2 pm while bitching about the Bush administration and debating the brunch options in
In Conclusion I’d just like to say: Hey Mike! I got FREE COFFEE nanny nanny booboo!
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