Sunday, December 13, 2009


I feel...

I feel like I should have a baby because everyone is doing it. I feel like I don't want to have a baby, and therefore I'm not going to... at least for now. I also feel as if Christmas is almost overrated, and I say that mostly because I work in retail and there are a lot of selfish people out there. I feel like this time of year often brings out the worst in me, and I'm not sure why. Maybe because deep down I'm one of those selfish people just like the people I see in the mall. Or maybe because knowing some people won't have a Christmas tree or presents brings me down. Or perhaps I feel like Christmas has turned into a depressing marketing ploy and just a way for corporations to make money.

I find it interesting that the biggest shopping day of the year is the day after the day we are supposed to be thankful for everything we have. How ironic is that? We sit down to a wonderful table full of food, eat until we are stuffed, share why this year is great and we are so thankful for the roof over our head and the food the Lord has blessed us with and how "there is nothing more I could ask for at this moment than to be with these people in this place" and so on... then we wake up at four in the morning to get the best deals on things no one really needs. Or better yet, we stay up all night because some stores open at midnight.

What is wrong with us?

And sure, we can justify ourselves by saying all we get is socks and presents for other people. But really? Even if you are buying something for someone else you are still falling into the trap. The greedy "get the best deal" trap. And the reality is stores don't even have that many sales! Don't go to Forever 21 on Black Friday, the sale is crap. Things are shipped in specifically for that day with one price on them and a discount sign along with it so you think you are getting a deal, but you actually are getting the price you would get on any other day. They also get boxes of sale rack items from other stores sent to them so it looks as though everything was marked down for that day, however, they are just summer dresses no one would by in November. And I have no doubt that every other store does the same thing.

What a hoax!

I also feel like I wish I was a kid again and didn't have to know the sad truth about any of this stuff. I could just wake up Christmas morning with presents under the tree and the mystery of how it all happened. Unfortunately, we cannot return to those days. Instead, I'm stuck with knowing too much but I'll survive. I was encouraged to know that despite all the shoppers running around the day after Thanksgiving, there were a large handful of individuals I spoke to that avoided all sales that day. Praise God we didn't get sucked into consumerism!

So this Christmas avoid consumerism, get simple gifts, hug your mom and I guaranty she will be more thankful for that than the perfume you got on sale at Bath and Body Works. Some of the best gifts can't be unwrapped.

and I feel like that is what it is all about.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

singing in the rain.

It rained today. No. It poured. It rained cats and dogs today.

This photo was taken during a flood in 07'.
Today was not quite this bad where I live, though some streets could compete. I wish I could have taken a picture today while waiting to pull onto Stark as cars unknowingly entered much larger "puddles" than they expected, some taking up the entire right hand lane. Today's storm made me think of past Portland weather I've faced in my time.
The earliest one I can remember was the flood of 1996. We lived in a perfect home in Troutdale. I was six, my brother was eleven and my sister was nine. After begging our mother to allow, the three of us put on our rain boots and trekked outside through our back gate to the park area where we would normally play Power Rangers. With a stick in hand we measured all the puddles, the largest being the ones where the water would go over the top of my boots and fill them up.
This flood also brought about one of the first tragic experiences in my life. Again, I was six, therefore "tragic" is now used lightly.

My dad had to go into the basement and fix a burst pipe that had flooded the entire underneath of our house. My job was to hold the flashlight while Daddy found the leak. Both siblings on either side of me - one would hope I would be safe as I leaned over the hole in the floor - no such luck. While trying to maneuver myself on the lid of the cut-out floor board the whole thing slipped down and I fell in a puddle face first. Drenched and so afraid, I have no doubt I thought I was going to die at that very moment. However, I did not die, with all the eyes watching my humiliating move I was more than safe moments later, wrapped in a blanked being held by my mom.
This story makes me laugh.

The next storm I can recall would be when we lived on Greenway Lane in Gresham. The Northcrafts lived just up the hill from us and came down to play in the snow. We crafted the largest snowman with our dads. One of the greatest memories of snow. I wish I remember what year that was, I'm thinking some time around 2000.

Next big one, again I don't know the year, about 2004 or so. School was closed for a week and I was willingly stranded at Sarah's house. Her mom made us mini hot dogs wrapped in Pillsbury crescent rolls and chocolate chip pancakes. The snow had began to melt and refroze again leaving a thick layer of ice over the top. We were outside for hours only coming inside for breaks to defrost our fingers and get a snack. Then back outside, this time with her dad to do cookies in the Jeep on nearby deserted roads.

Those were the good old days. Now I realize the seriousness of a storm and all the factors I never would have thought of years ago. Yes, I still love the thrill of a stormy day and the excitement when the power flashes, but there is a point when the roads cannot be closed and people do have to get to work. Not everyday can be a snow day. Maybe if all got paychecks for snow days... but thats a whole other story. One thing I appreciate now about the weather that I did not comprehend as a child was the beauty of rain and snow. At the time I only cared if it could be formed into a ball to throw or crafted into an angel from what used to be grass. Now I see this time of year and I cannot get enough of it. Even from the soaked window of my car. My windshield whippers busily doing their job smearing the droplets out of my view.... I love that sound. The rain hitting hard along with the swishing sound. So good. So fall. So Portland. I'm so soaking up this rain. Welcome to the season of wet jeans around our ankles and making mad dashes to our cars.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Salivating Dogs

Ivan Petrovich Pavlov won the Nobel Prize in Physiology in 1904. This man, among other scientific findings, is responsible for discovering how the body reacts naturally through innate reflexes; for example, our pupils shrink when light hits our eyes. This is not a learned reaction but unlearned, programed reaction in everyone. These are called UR Unconditioned Responses. Pavlov took this phenomenon and experimented with it. He realized that reflexes can also be a learned habit. For instance, when a dog sees food he salivates. Pavlov rang a bell before feeding his dog a number of times, the dog associating the sound of the bell with food, causing the dog to salivate by just the sound of the bell.

I find this study so interesting. Sure we could assume dogs are dumb enough to be fooled by this mean owners trick. But the reality is we are just as fooled. We ourselves are salivating dogs, ready for dinner that is not prepared for us.

Nathan and I had a conversation this evening about true beauty. Not beauty on a magazine cover or on the television, but true honest to goodness beauty. What is that? Who actually knows what beautiful means? We are taught to believe that Hollywood bodies are beautiful, however, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. From a man's perspective, "From the day I was born I was taught that a tight butt and big boobs were what was attractive." And from a woman's perspective, "Who doesn't love the part in How to Loose a Guy in 10 Days when Matthew McConaughey changes his shirt?" But honestly, I find it horribly demeaning to the entire human race to classify, what is truly the minority, the definition of beauty. The reality is, there is a very small percentage of people in the world that have "beautiful" bodies under their clothes. And lets face it, even the "beautiful" people have had numerous cosmetic surgeries.

Salivating dogs.

Can we just cut the crap and love people? Thats my goal for the day. A judgement free day. I don't know about you, but I'm talking off my hollywood glasses and putting on my heart glasses. Why can't hollywood find beauty in the heart?

You're so vein, I bet you think this blog is about you.

Monday, October 26, 2009


Working in a restaurant I now realize there is a very small percentage of people in the world that know how to behave in a restaurant atmosphere. Humans in general are not very nice. I say that with a bitter attitude because in my work place I go to do my job. My job, simply put, is to seat people and clean up after them. I don't really care if you like the booth I put you in, I have my reasoning you don't need to know and frankly would not understand even if I attempted to explain them. Also, if I take you to a table it is for a reason, 90% of the time because you do not fit in a booth. So please refrain from complaining about how chairs are bad for your back because I know that booth will not hold you and your extra pounds.
Needless to say, I am bitter about the people I encounter in the work place. But what do I do? Nothing. Nothing at all. Well, that's not entirely true, I do go home and vent about those individuals to my well informed husband. But other than that, I do nothing. Because that is what I have to do. We cannot always confront our problems or annoyances because ultimately it would get us in trouble. If I were to say to the overweight guest, "No, you cannot take that booth over there because you are too big." She would not only be embarrassed, but probably talk to my manager and make sure I was removed from my position. Either that or she would cry her way out of the restaurant, through the lobby and out the door, never to eat fish and chips again. Which would do her good to go on a anorexic binge for a while....
OK, that was uncalled for.
A person is a person, no matter how big.
What I mean is, sometimes we are pacified. Like babies that cry, their mothers are not sure what else to do, so they eliminate the sound that keeps them up at night. We pacify ourselves and cannot speak what we think. I have learned that as I grow up I realize more and more that silence is maturity. Those people that never let anyone other than themselves speak are foolish and immature. They need to shut up and listen. Maturity comes with listening and gaining knowledge from others, not listening to yourself ramble. Believe it or not, no one is impressed; in fact, they secretly want you to stop but can't get a word in to break the news to you.
My husband and I have been going to this church group on Sunday evenings lately. Just a twenty some crowed of twenty somethings discussing Jesus and how we can understand Him 2000 years later. A lot of discussions and I do put in my two cents fairly often. But I would rather sit and listen, soaking in everyone else’s words rather than spitting out something I already know. Maybe that is selfish, to refrain from speaking my thoughts that others might learn from so I myself can learn instead. I'm not sure... But I do know I learn. I would rather learn than teach I suppose.
Working in a restaurant you hear a lot of interesting conversations. My favorites are the old women that can't hear each other so they shout. Or the business men talking money and how to get on top while crushing everyone in their path. Or the hopeless woman pouring her soul out to a friend that doesn't entirely understand. Restaurants are the meeting point of all the messed up people in the world. Everyone dines out every once in a while. Its sad really, I hear these people all the time and rarely interject my opinion (usually because they don't know I'm listening). Lets face it, everyone listens in on other peoples conversations, especially when they are bored and at work. So there I am, wiping down a table, and I hear a conversation get interesting.
"I just feel like I don't fit in with the world. I have my christian friends that are just boring, and my nonchristian friends that I can't entirely relate to. I'm stuck; I'm depressed all the time."
How awful. This woman needs hope, or at least a hug. And the woman across from her, surprised and caught off guard says, "Well, I umm, am not sure how that feels."

I feel bad for people I can’t help. I want to make a difference to people in the world. Someday I want to partner up with Bono and save some kids in Africa. But even more than that, I want to affect people. That woman was empty and lost. I wish I could go back in time and stop by her table, rag in hand, and say, “I heard what you said, and I’m so sorry for eavesdropping, but your friend didn’t do a damn thing about it. Can I give you a hug? Would that freak you out? I apologize. I just noticed how empty you are and I ache for you. I want you to feel love and emotion. Everyone needs to feel needed and you clearly have that missing in your life. I’m so sorry.”

However, I am pacified again, both willingly and reluctantly. I don’t want to make matters worse, and I really know nothing about this woman other than the two minutes I heard her heartbreaking speech. She could just be having an emotional pity party. It could just be that time of the month. Nevertheless, she said those words for a reason. And I wiped my table.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Life is fragile. Everyone knows that. Life is beautiful and scary and all together a wonderful mystery that only God Himself knows the full depth and meaning of it all. I am glad I am not God. I am glad I do not have to create and weep over these made to be perfect people that tangle themselves in an endless web of mistakes.
"What goes around comes around". Karma is a bitch. We find that in order to justify what is going on we blame something or someone, often times something that is fictional. Karma. We made it up to justify the outcome of or own choices. Or to explain the unknown.
Life is more than a series of events. Life is more than chance. We cannot plan life, it happens to us. We experience the joy and the laughter and the pain. Lived moments cannot be planned. I feel like I might be rambling... I apologize. All I mean to say is life is God's. I am starting to realize that I can think up something for dinner and I can go to work. I can kiss my husband good night. We can make plans with friends on the weekends. But ultimately He created us for today and that is all we really can know. "We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps." Thanks God. I'm glad you know me better than I know myself.

Number 1

Well, here it goes... its official, I am a "blogger".

I did this for myself. Not so other people could read my thoughts an critique my inner self by sending judgmental opinions through a computer screen. I am doing this to get all my thoughts in order, my ducks in a row. I chose the name "aborigine" because I'm new to this. I know I'm not the first one... but then again what if I am. The first ever Super Young/New Wife/College Dropout/ Work All I Can - Not Because I Want to But Have to/Scared of What the Future Might Bring/So in love it Hurts/Wish I Could Really Help Someone in Need, girl. There may be someone out there that was the first aborigine to this land I have recently encountered, but so far I have found no sign of other living creatures in this very soil I stand, nay, swim in. I am not wallowing in my situation. On the contrary, I love my life. I love my wonderful husband who cares for me deeply, I love our outdated plumbing that makes the showers scorching hot if the toilet is flushed, I love our dinners that we make for each other... I chose this.

and I love this.

But this thing I love I also find that I am getting lost in it all. I'm lost in doing everything I can to find my identity. I'm no longer holding my father's name, I have a new identity to everyone around me. No more than two months ago I was allowed to spend the night at a girlfriends house. But now I am married. Socially, I am turning in my sleepovers for laundry and dishes. Not that my laundry and dishes are awful, they are accompanied by kisses and conversation with my favorite man in the world. Its just new. But new is not bad.