Run Ladies Run!

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RUN LADIES RUN!

No, we’re not running for our lives, but we are running for a good cause. We will be coming together on August 5th to take part in the 4th Annual Lady Distance Classic, running or walking either a 5K or 10K course.

Why? It’s all part of D’VINE’s Big Ask campaign to raise money to open a not-for-profit coffee house in the Clifton area. This coffee house will be a gift to our community where people can get great coffee, grow relationships and experience community, and be creative or appreciate the creativity of others.

If you would like to partner with us, we are looking for financial sponsors to support us as we run like the wind (or maybe just a soft breeze). You can pledge by kilometer or in one lump sum. We would love for you to support us however you feel led. And feel free to come cheer us on!

I personally will be running the 10K. If you would like to provide support, either financially, praying that God would provide sponsors, and/or moral support at 7:30 am this Saturday, let me know! I'm #1541, or just look for the person running with death-defying speed :)

Spiritual Bulimia

I’m starving. Obsessed, I hunger and thirst for spiritual food, but with this obsession co-exists a great aversion to the very object of my desire.

I seek Him out, but moments of rest are so quickly overtaken by a battle that I can’t face. I turn and retreat.

I binge. I purge. I am left lonely and longing.

I am surrounded by lies, piercing and deflating the truth like arrows. The aim is too good. No doubt the archer is skilled.

He disputes my worth. He tells me I am alone. He tells me to give up, to walk away. He tells me nothing yet everything all at once.

His voice is persuasive; his volume too loud. And the lies of this world play an alluring accompaniment. From the horns comes “bitch,” from the strings, “ho,” from the woodwinds, “too much,” and percussion, “not enough.”

I rally to turn the channel, and I hear the contents of my heart sung to a less compelling rhythm.

Lord, I'm in the dark,
Seems to me the line is dead when I come calling.
No one there, the sky is falling;

Lord, I need to know.
My mind is playing games again,
You're right where You have always been.

Take me back to You,
The place that I once knew as a little child;
Constantly the eyes of God watched over me.

Oh, I want to be
In the place that I once knew as a little child,
Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me.

I will rest in You,
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You.

Tell me I'm a fool,
Tell me that You love me for the fool I am,
Comfort me like only You can,

And tell me there's a place
Where I can feel Your breath
Like sweet caresses on my face again.

Take me back to You,
The place that I once knew as a little child;
Constantly the eyes of God watched over me.

Oh, I want to be
In the place that I once knew as a little child,
Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me.

I will rest in You,
I will rest in You,
I will rest in You.

“I can barely hear you. Please grow louder.” 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…still not loud enough. Still not long enough. “Please don’t stop! I need to hear!”

“That is nothing, child, but a fruitless cry to vacated seats. He does not hear you. His do not hear you. Not you. Spit Him out. Spit them out. Vomit. Vomit!”

Spiritual bulimia…And with it, darkness obscures the horizon. Desperate, I reach back and grasp for something real. “What’s that?”

A still small voice is barely audible beneath the clamor... "What? Please…louder.”

“Eat, My child. Drink”

I long for solid food, but I will start with milk if I must. I will not spit it out, though the taste seems oddly bitter.

I will not forsake it, for I still believe it will not forsake me.

Please Endulge Me

Yes, now is the time for all of you who are waiting for me to write something incredibly profound and inspiring on this blog to...well, wait even longer. Sorry, but I feel I must now take on the role of unabashedly proud aunt, showing off these pictures of two of my adorable nephews. Seriously, who can resist these faces?

First, this is Joey. Joey is 2 years old now. Joey is (hopefully) wearing swim trunks specially designed by Walmart. As you can see, he is also sporting an amazing smile that my sister and I first saw when we finally met him at a South Korean adoption center last June. He has the most amazing personality and has had an incredible impact on so many lives already. Everyone say, "Hi Joey."

















Now, this is Tyler. Tyler is Joey's big brother at a ripe old age of 5. Tyler is much taller than the last time I saw him, which was unfortunately December (they live on the East Coast). Tyler, as you can see, has a girlfriend. Tyler is very smart and can probably almost read this. Tyler would then say, "I don't have a girlfriend you goofball." Goofball is his favorite derogatory name for other people (especially Daddy and Aunt Marsha), but that is probably so December by now.
















And this...well, this can't be a good omen, can it?

Be Afraid...Be Very Afraid

After what I just went through in the last half-hour and in similar calls over the last several weeks, I am seriously concerned that someday - it may be tomorrow or it may be years from now when I am old(er) and gray - I will find myself walking down the street or sitting in the park or otherwise minding my own business when, all of a sudden, it will happen.

I will hear a voice that has the misfortune of too closely approximating that computer-generated one used by Big Business and Big Health Care and all the other Big's to keep from having to have any personal contact with the people whom they serve. The one that makes us wait on the line, speak our 10-digit member number, says "sorry, but I think you said..." when you know you spoke perfectly clearly, and never gives you the option you needed in the first place. The one that never gives you even the opportunity to press something to be connected with a real live person unless you can generate the willpower to not press anything while Little Miss Computer says things like, "Sorry, I didn't get that" or "Remember, you need to press either 1 or 2 to indicate you choice" or something like that. And is it just me, or does her voice tone change ever so slightly to indicate increasing annoyance on her part? Like she's the one who should be annoyed in that scenario.

When I do someday come across that poor unsuspecting individual who sounds a little too much like this computer lady, I can only imagine the ire that will rise up in me. I can only imagine the strength of character and peace of God that will need to come over me to keep me from taking out on her all the bitterness that for me has become attached to that voice. It is like nails on a chalkboard (the ancestor of the white board for the younger generations out there).

Sometimes I swear I was born in the wrong time. It's time like these I wonder what it would have been like to live in the 1940's or 50's. I know I would have a very different lifestyle, but I think I look pretty good in high heels and pearls :)

Something Profound? Not So Much

So the fact that I think this video is hilarious and the fact that I actually understand not only what these people are singing about but also why they would be driven to do something so ridiculous officially makes me a nerd. I am finally accepting it.

Real Men of Genius

Bud Light (or not) presents Real Men of Genius
(Real Men of Genius)

Today we salute you, Mr. Hoot and Holler at Women Passing By Guy
(Mr. Hoot and Holler at Women Passing By Guy)

You are perhaps the greatest inspiration to women everywhere, using your primitive calls to bring joy to their days, even as you stand there in your wife beater t-shirt
(there’s ketchup on your t-shirt)

You spend your days thinking up new and different ways to make your voice into the perfect mating call to attract that very special woman of your dreams
(more like a nightmare)

Day in and day out women pass by and ignore you, but you aren’t deterred
(I think she might like me)

It’s true, it’s never worked before, but those were just bitches anyway
(maybe if I call her “sweetheart”)

So open an ice cold Bud Light, Mr. King of Carnivals and Construction Sites. Because if one guy can use his voice to let other men know just how not to treat women, we are glad it’s you
(Mr. Hoot and Holler at Women Passing By Guy)

To Love or Not To Love

"Well said, teacher," the man replied. "You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices." When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, "You are not far from the kingdom of God." And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.
Mark 12: 32-34

When God commanded us to love our neighbor as ourselves, do you think he meant to include inept customer service personnel? You're probably going to say yes, aren't you?

God, sorry for today. Help me to love you more, experience the true freedom of your love, and love others through both easy and difficult situations. It can only go up from here.

Yard Sale Mayhem

Does anyone recognize this guy? It's the many sides of Steve Bragg. And, as you will see, I mean that quite literally.

The pose that sold this old washing machine.

Can you believe someone gave these beauties away?

Wow, if the first one didn't convince you...


These light fixtures never sold, but Courtney and Steve gave it a valiant effort.

Confessions of an Emotional Voyeur

I like to watch people in crowds and ponder their interactions with each other. I especially like to observe people when they are having a personal moment – either a positive or a negative one.

I like to study people’s faces to look for their real, possibly unspoken reactions to situations.

I like to stare at the scene of an accident in order to see what kind of tragedy has occurred, and then I ponder how it may affect the lives involved.

I like to ask people questions that get at the root of what they are thinking and feeling. I just think we too often hang out on the surface and miss out on all the wonders that can be found beneath.

And I like to read people’s blogs in order to learn about them, including stuff they don’t share in person. And this creates for me a level of intimacy with the person. For the people who are willing to share that level of intimacy, it doesn’t turn out to be a problem – just another avenue with which to draw closer to one another in friendship. And for people I don’t really know anyway, it’s not a problem because I don’t really have an emotional investment. It then becomes a way of creating a more limited relationship. But for people who are in my life but not otherwise willing to share and discuss the things they blog about in person, it’s an emotional disparity that I find myself on the losing end of. It’s a form of relationship that leaves me feeling empty and let down.

And I worry that we might be becoming a blogging generation that is losing out on real emotional intimacy. I think that blogging can create and even enhance relationships. But I also think, if allowed to, it can become a second-rate replacement for true relationship. Emotional voyeurs are especially vulnerable. *

So, hi. I’m Marsha. And I’m an emotional voyeur.

And everyone says, …”Hi Marsha...”

*The contents of this blog have been previously discussed with people in my life and thus are not themselves an example of emotional exhibitionism and voyeurism through blogging.

My Birthday and Other Minimally Important News

First of all, thanks to all of you who remembered my birthday. I was honestly going into the day not expecting many people to remember or respond, so thanks to all of you who took the time to do so!

Here are some random thoughts and ponderings that have crossed my mind so far today, inspired by watching CNN and Channel 9 at the gym while preemptively working off these double chocolate chip birthday cookies I am treating myself to. As you can see, it has been a busy thinking day. I guess birthdays do that to you. The scary thing is that most of mine occurred prior to 7am this morning. It is scientific fact that our circadian rhythms shift so that we wake earlier and earlier in our old age. Crap- it has begun :)


Lessons from a Foot Fetish

This is a story I only caught the tail end of after scanning the multiple TVs in front of me and seeing closed caption that caught my attention and caused me to tune in the audio. Basically, this woman was being interviewed because apparently, while unlocking the doors of her car to get in, she felt something licking her foot. Understandably, she assumed it was a dog or some sort of animal, and she looked down. What she saw was not an animal - at least not the kind she was thinking. What she saw was a man, hiding under her car and licking her foot - a man who apparently has a pretty significant foot fetish.

Now, just to get this out of the way, I do believe this is weird and disturbed and all that stuff. I am not endorsing it. I don’t want to go out and start having weird sexual attachments and addictions, and I don’t want to be the object of said weird addictions for anyone else. However, you gotta at least admit this guy had passion. I mean, he knew what he wanted and he went for it. He was trapped under a car with no escape route – that’s how much he felt he had to pursue this thing in his life. He stepped all over a poor woman’s basic human rights in the process, but he did it with passion. If only he could find more productive outlets for that passion, he could potentially do some great things.

And I think that is true for all of us. We all have addictions or at least something that is redirecting our God-given passions into something not worthy of them. Addictions can really produce passion. They are powerful and self-propelling. Why don’t our healthier desires and pursuits produce this much passion? Maybe for some they do, but I think in general we have a much harder time sustaining our passion in these things, even if it is something we truly desire to do with our lives. Part of it is biological, I’m sure. Addictions involve powerfully reinforcing chemical transmissions in the brain that give us a rush. Drugs, power, sex – they all do it. I wish I could tap into this for those things I know I am called to pursue, so I could pursue them with more passion. So that little things wouldn’t distract me or discourage me. So that less healthy things wouldn’t get in the way and take all my passions.

I’m not giving up. I trust I will get better at it. For now, all I know is this. I need more passion like Christopher Walken needs more cowbell. I’ve got a fever…

And this Just In

It’s apparently two superpowers pitted against one another. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is Walmart versus the little town of Hercules, CA, and only one is going to come out of this the victor. Will it be the king of the discount store movement, or will it be a small town with a big name to reflect its big heart? Will Walmart be allowed to stay, or will Hercules manage to fend them off and protect the town as they know it?

I am going to follow this one. It’s nice to be reminded that big, important things sometimes do come in small, humble packages. The loud, self-promoting things don’t always have to win. I hope in this case they don’t. I need to see the little guy win right now.

Words

Words, words, words
I’m disappointed by words
They are no longer enough
They have betrayed my trust

Words are a weapon
They form a web of deceit
They cost me part of myself
Wounded, I seize my freedom

This new perspective is so different
I can see past the words
And I hear a different tune
Despite the same familiar lyric

No more words crafted from a silver tongue
It is action I long for
I will settle for no less
I was never meant to

And The Winner Is...

Me

Why, you ask? Because May is Birthday Month™. And Birthday Month™ is a month where I get to win everything, even when it is clear that I lost. It's consolation for turning a year older, this year as old as Jesus when he died (no, I can't seem to forget that one). Some other rules of Birthday Month™ are included below. It's probably best to memorize them if you will be seeing me at all in May:

1. Marsha is always right (you probably already figured this out, but I thought I would remind you)
2. Marsha looks great everyday, even when she looks like crap.
3. Marsha doesn't have to put up with people picking on her incessantly - she can react however she pleases without consequence or grudge.
4. Anyone who says "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha" gets a consequence of Marsha's choosing.
5. Marsha gets to make up more rules as needed.
   

And with that being said, I will plan on seeing you all next month, after Birthday Month™ has safely come and gone. Happy May!!

™ Birthday Month is a registered trademark established by Marsha to denote the special treatment deserved during the month of her birth. Unauthorized use to garner special treatment during your own month of birth is strictly prohibited.

Party On...Excellent

Bohemian Rhapsody...nothing like it. Just ask Collin and Candyce.

You Are Invited...

If you are in the Cincinnati area this weekend, consider this invitation for you!

Stranded

In this box of prism walls
Illusions of color and beauty
Strand me in a black and white reality

A space that is too vast yet too small
As this language confines me
Into a shadow of myself

Marooned on this island
In an ocean of assumption
And numbers are the salt

Where are the adventurers?
The ones to brave these waters
And sail the sea of discovery

The Camera Doesn't Lie

OK...so it is becoming increasingly apparent to me how ridiculous I would look to everyone if I was followed around by a camera 24/7. In addition to the additional 10 pounds that the camera adds, here is a sampling of what you would see.

I have a rubber mat under this really sweet, ergonomic office chair that my work place gives me in order to make up for the ridiculous number of hours they expect me to work. The problem is, whenever I roll off the mat to get something from across the office or to sit at a different table, I have what you might call a little problem getting back on. You would think 50 times or so of doing this would lead to my finally catching on, but it hasn't. Instead, every single time, I try to roll back on at top chair speeds and the following happens (picture in slow motion for greatest effect).

Marsha's chair hits the edge of the rubber mat.
Chair stops abruptly;Marsha does not.
Marsha pitches forward head-first into large office desk.
Marsha exclaims not-so-lady-like expletive.
Marsha laughs at herself for doing it again and again.

I do a lot of dictating at work. After using a handset for a long time and realizing that this was causing a serious dispute between my neck and I, I decided to order a phone headset. I love it. Incidentally, I can't put it on without doing my best pop star imitation. I preferred Janet Jackson until not-so recent events led to a very different image being conjured up whenever I told people that.

Anyway, so I dictate with this headset. I have even mastered the art of dictating and eating by maneuvering food around the headset at the same time. It's a real job skill. What I apparently have not mastered is taking off the headset, because everytime it gets all tangled in my hair and I have to spend like 5 minutes getting it out. Very impressive indeed. It is closely approximated but not quite matched by the "earring stuck in the sweater while pulling sweater over the head" incident of March 2006. Somehow I got into some sort of straight-jacket position with that one, and it was not an easy feat to get out. Good times.

Just Do It

Go see Tsotsi. You won't regret it. It's quite a story about finding freedom and redemption amidst the harshest of cirumstances.

Then let's discuss...

Here's To Good Friends

...tonight is kinda special...

OK, I couldn't help that. But seriously - only a good friend could get away with the following:

Me: Yeah, so that's what's been going on. And I am going to be 33 next month. Here's to hoping that will be the start of a good year.

Good Friend: Jesus was 33 when he died.

Me: Um, thanks.

"You Can Call Me Fatty" and other miscellaneous life stories

And here is the latest in a long line of stories from this stressful but eventful job of mine...

You Can Call Me Fatty

(Fade-in to supervision with one of my trainees yesterday)

Me: I see you have been working with Johnny and his parents. We should talk about how therapy is going so far and make sure your plan sounds appropriate to me.

Trainee: OK, great. Yadayadayada...And so, we had our first parent coaching session yesterday. Mom and dad are divorced but both committed to practicing at home with Johnny this week - Dad four times a week, and mom each weekend day when she has visitation. They are really coachable.

Me: Sounds good. Let's talk again next week after you do a bit more next session. Have we talked about this family before?

Trainee: Yes. This is the one where the dad is a pretty obese guy, and, when I introduced myself and asked how he would like to be addressed, he said, "My name is XXXX, but you can call me Fatty." And then when I called his house another time and got his answering machine, he was all "Hi, this is Fatty. Leave a message." And another time, someone else answered the phone and was like, "Just a minute...(in background) Faaaaaattttttyyyyy!!!!"

Me: Oh yeah, I remember now....so, what else do we need to talk about today?

(And Scene)

Next, a little treat from earlier in the week...

I just moved into Clifton. With this move, I am leaving my old gym behind and joining something closer. I work out way early in the morning, and that just isn't going to happen if I have to travel very far to get there. So, long story short, I decided to join the UC Fitness Center in the Campus Rec Center.

I will say that the center is pretty impressive. The only catch is parking. I don't work on campus, so I don't have parking there. Now, I don't live that far, but I have a small window of time to work out in the morning before work, and walking eats up a lot of that time. I am not averse to walking or running, but this will not be fun in the cold and/or rain. So, I have an epiphany. Why not ride my bike? All sorts of visions of me looking all cool riding my bike through campus come into my mind, and I settle on this option.

So, the morning after I join, I plan to ride my bike to the gym before work, work out, and ride home to get ready for work. The whole process starts around 6am - a treat from my former 5am workout time. Anyway, I get up all gung ho. I had prepared the night before by buying a bike lock for the sweet bike I bought last summer, so I was all set. I go in the basement to get my bike, and I head outside.

It's a little cold this time of year still, isn't it? This is especially true at 6am. Thirty degrees that day, in fact. I hadn't really thought about that. Oh well...

Wow, Clifton is pretty hilly, isn't it? I knew that, but there is nothing like getting on a bicycle for the first time in months (and before that, years) to bring that point home. Huffing and puffing and with copious amounts of snot smeared across my face, I arrive at UC. Almost there...

College campuses never make paths with direct access to anywhere, do they? It is always circuitous. I had forgotten that...

Working this bike lock on this fancy bike lock holder seemed a lot simpler last night, didn't it? Oh, got it. Great.

[Intermission for uneventful gym workout]

Carry over previous comments about cold, hills, huffing, puffing, snot, and circuitous bike routes and add the following on the ride home: 1) Many more people around to view said huffing, puffing, and snot. 2) Many more cars on the street to make this yet another in a long line of "I almost died" stories that I am compiling for my David Sedaris-style autobiography. 3) Me without my bike helmet (what was I thinking?!!), and 4) Arriving at my house again to find that my lungs hurt from the cold and that my hand was frozen in position on my brake.

And to top it all off, when I had arrived near campus, I had noticed plenty of street parking available at that time of day. Needless to say, if you go by campus between 6 and 7am from now on, you will see a black Ford Focus parked on the street...at least until it's warmer. Then you might see a helmeted, snot-free, cardiovascularly-fit, female biker riding over to campus. Be sure to say "hi" to her for me.

Fish, Dogs, and Fellowship

I have never owned a fish. Quite honestly, I just don’t get it. If a pet is for companionship, will someone please explain to me what anyone gets out of owning a fish? You can’t cuddle with them. You can’t really play with them. You can’t talk to them and have them look up at you attentively as if they understand when you know deep down that they don’t. You can basically just watch them. And I will acknowledge that some fish are beautiful, but your garden variety fish tank fish isn’t all that attractive if you ask me. So, what is it?

Dogs I do get. I have always wanted a dog, but I have never had the lifestyle to be able to take care of one on my own. I have always vowed I would get one when I get married and have kids. But it won’t be a little, yippie dog. No - it’s a big majestic dog for me, all the way. And for now, while I wait to finally become the dog person that lurks beneath the surface of my soul, I remain a single woman with two cats. But that is another post altogether. (Disclaimer: I love my cats very much, but I will never be seen wearing cat clothing, knowingly having cat hair all over me, or joining any cat clubs – e.g., I am not the “cat lady”). Maybe the reason one of my cats is so incredibly fat is because I subconsciously want to feed it until it becomes the size of one of the dogs I long for. She is pretty fat…

Now to the purpose of this post. So there is this woman who volunteers where I work. Her sole purpose in this setting is to clean out the fish tank. She diligently comes in every week and does this job, free of charge. She also does it for other tanks throughout the hospital as far as I understand.

This woman fascinates me. She is single, and she has about 10 dogs at home. I know this because that is the only topic I have ever heard her talk about – her dogs. She has posted a picture of herself and her 10 dogs on our fish tank. And I wonder, what is going on with this woman?

Part of me feels sorry for her. Does she have friends? Is this the only way she relates to people, much like the Star Trek fanatics that find community and fellowship through their common interest in all things Star Trek. If so, I find this sad. But why do I find this so sad? Here is a person that is relating to people around a common interest. Don’t I do the same thing? Don’t I gravitate toward people who can relate to what I relate to and who can talk intelligently about things that interest me? Why am I judging this woman as if she is so different in that basic desire? I have no idea. My way of expressing all of this may be more culturally and socially acceptable than hers, but it is still the same basic desire driving it.

So fish, dogs, Star Trek…who cares? I say here’s to anyone who is out there doing the things she or he loves and connecting with others through it. We were made to be relational creatures. The individuality in how that is expressed creates a human diversity that is rather beautiful. I am going to try to embrace and cherish that beauty.