Can't Take the Heat.

When I was in 8th grade my basketball team made it to the division playoffs.  Down by a few points with only a few minutes left in the game and on the brink of elimination, I asked the coach to take me out.  Apparently I wasn't volunteering myself to be the hero.  Great players live for this moment, and I, well, wasn't destined for the WNBA anyhow.

I think it's accurate to describe myself as a wimp.  When the heat is on, I want out.  

There's a whole lot of good, however, when we stick it out.  I have to believe this, or my faith system crumbles.  I'm not saying that it's always best to remain in a situation.  What I am saying is there are crucial moments when staying in the game is important.  If perseverance is to finish its work in us, we need to see that though we are exposed for the wimp that we are, that decision to stick might just be the most important thing.

Pick-Up Lines.

One thing we do for fun around here is share pick-up lines.  My friend J.Wo has a hilarious collection of them, namely one about bees and honey that I think any girl would fall for.  I wouldn't do it justice by repeating it here.

Thing is, there are guys out there who use pick-up lines for real.  And being a girl you actually get subjected to them,.  The last time I was on a plane home to California the guy across the aisle made a lame attempt.  First off I didn't even hear the dude when he started speaking to me.  Bad start if the girl doesn't even know you're talking to her.  Second his first two words were in Chinese, and you know it's bad if white dude start speaking to you in Chinese first. 

The other week I was walking to class when a guy turned around and literally did two double-takes as I was approaching him.  Then double-taker dude turns up behind me in chapel the next week and right as we dismiss approaches me.  Opening line?  "Where are you from?"  Once again, no good.  But better than the other week in the elevator: "Are you Korean? (No) Are you Japanese? (No) Are you from China (No)."  Before I exasperated the guy any further I said I was from California and ended it right there.

Which gets me thinking about some appropriate pick-up lines to use around here:

• "God spoke to me last night and told me we were MFEO (made for each other)."
• "Are you in my Sanctification class?  Cuz every time I see you I'm a better person."
• "Are you in the cross-cultural program?  Cuz I want to travel the world with you."
• "Do you take Greek?  Cuz I got love for you and it ain't phileo."
• "I don't know what your view on the end times are, but I'm hoping I end up with you."

I have to stop now.  I can tell you're rolling your eyes.

Running and Stopping and Running Again.

I should write about baseball more (see last entry) if I want eprops.  I'll keep that in mind.  Today though I'm talking about running.  This past year I've gone back to the sport after a two year hiatus.  I started real slow - like I ran for 5 minutes and I was done.  That's real short compared to the 5 hours I ran for my marathon a few years back.  It's always frustrating to have to start something from scratch again. 

But after some time it gets better.  I can even say that now about oatmeal after eating it almost everyday for a year. 

Back to running - my dad is running his first marathon I think in over 10 years.  He's crazy to want to run one again.  I remember when I was a kid and my dad ran his first ever marathon.  To me, it was a superhuman feat.  I remember my eyes getting big when he talked about "hitting the wall."  But he made it, and brought home the finisher's medal to prove it.

I'm not a little kid anymore, but I can't wait to see his newest medal.

Us and Them.

The other day in class the professor referred to the local football team as "our" Cowboys. I cringed, thinking that "our" included yours truly.  I am and always will remain a 49er fan, no matter how much they suck.  Something about including me as a local here makes me uncomfortable.  In fact, being in Texas only makes me more Californian. 

Admittedly though, Texas has grown on me, to the point where I was sitting at the Ranger game on Monday and found myself actually cheering for them as there were playing the Angels, a Californian team.  I figured this was ok, since it wasn't the Giants.  And they were behind, so who doesn't root for the underdog by default when it's not their home team playing?  Maybe I got swept up in the crowd and forgot where I was.  Or maybe it's that I've grown fond of Texas.  Just maybe.



My time in Texas is almost up.  Next month I'll return to California and rejoin the "us" again.  But I'm sure this isn't the last time I'll be a part of the "them,"or in this case, the "y'all."

Farewells.

I've gotten used to saying a lot of goodbyes over the past three years.  I don't think this makes them any easier, or less melodramatic.  Separating yourself from people you love is a really hard thing.

I said my final goodbye to CW who left for Moldova today.  I don't normally gush over people, but I will here.   I don't think either of us thought that we would grow attached to each other since things got off to a rocky start - me thinking she was bossy and she thinking I was rude.  But things quickly changed - I think it was over a cup of coffee and mutual lamenting of having loved and lost (a great equalizer).  Our relationship really took off from there.

Since then I've been privy to the world according to CW.  She likes rules, which (though I poke fun of them), are actually quite endearing.  I don't think I ever told her that I actually love following rules.  I think CW and I get along well because she's a lot of things I'm not.  She's bubbly, fun, and affectionate when I'm reserved, predictable, and stoic.  Somehow it works that I become less of those things when I'm around her.   She's also smart and articulate.  And she knows how I love briany brainy people.  We've laughed and cried over lots, and talked about "feelings."

I'm really going to miss her.  But I lose her to more freakish endeavors, and that's somehow going to be okay with me.

Evening of Hope.

The other day CW invited a few of us to an "Evening of Hope" hosted by the organization that she'll be interning at.  I'm excited about this opportunity that she has to work with a micro-loaning organization that reachest out to the world's most poor.  We readily admit decisions to do this kind of thing is freaky.  But I like that CW has high freak factor. 

So given that this organization works with the poorest of poor, I imagined that the gathering would be pretty low-key, attended by the stereotypical people that I think do this kind of stuff.  Maybe I should have clued in when CW told us to dress casual and not sloppy (which for me by default are jeans and flip-flops).  Imagine my horror when we arrived at our destination and I exclaimed to BL (who was in the car with me), "oh shoot it's a freakin' mansion!"  Seriously it was the biggest house I ever stepped foot in, and come to think of it, we were only in the pool house.  Valet parking, open bar, fancy shmancy hors d'oeuvres...classical music even.

There were people in suits and nice dresses, which made me feel horribly ghetto and out of place.  I wish I could say I'm less shallow than I really am, but I do care when I stick out.  I need to work on this more.

I don't want to get away from what the night was about, and it wasn't about me.  I suppose the night was designed to pull heartstrings, and stir people's hearts for the poor.  The thing that gets me is that helping the poor isn't freaky until it really costs you something.  I bet you most people there could have dropped a fat check without consequence.  CW, on the other hand, leaves everything she holds dear to live five months in a country known for poverty and pickpockets.  I say that's pretty freaky.

$23 million dollars is what we found out later that estate was worth.  Man.

Another One on Being Girly.

Once in a while I like blogging about the frivolous and vain.  I think this is my third on being (un)girly.  For today's entry I'd like to talk about the hair straightener.  Quite a brilliant invention, I must say.  I have one of those hair types that while it isn't curly, it likes to feign to be.  That is, I inevitably have this stubborn wave in my hair that never allows it to sit the way that I want it to.

It's a good day when I can make it out of the house with my hair brushed.  But today since I found myself with time and my sister's hair straightener sitting in the bathroom I decided to plug it in and give it a try.  It took me less than a minute before I realized its magic...check out the results below!



So instead of wondering why girls tote their hair straighteners along on vacation I'll silently affirm its wonders.  Does this change my morning routine, though?  Nah.

Old School.

I have my quirks, but they're endearing really. Or at least I like to think of them that way.  One is that I use a pager as my alarm clock.  My, uh, old school pager from like over ten years ago, when 600041647 wasn't just a string of numbers.  I belong to the pioneer generation of text messagers, I tell you!  This is my root beer colored pager as it sits on my bedstand today:



It used to be that this pager sat nicely clipped to my hip.  Pager chain hanging over the pocket keeping it in place.  Just how it became my regular alarm clock, I don't know.  I can't live without it apparently.  Oh yeah, tell me I'm not 6007!

Don't Meddle.

I've made this mistake more than once, and so you'd think lesson learned, don't do it again.   While the intent is good, it is no good to be the go-between for guy-girl relationships.  Thus I hereby submit my resignation.  I leave all romances to figure themselves out. 

I will still gladly dish advice to my gal pals, and even my two cents to the inquisitive guy, but for the most part I will try not to meddle (which I can't figure if this stuff just happens or if I go looking for it).  Meddling for me is defined by knowing and talking with both sides, which I suppose is more like mediating.  I don't want to mediate either.  It's stickiness I'd rather avoid.

This is not to say that seeking wisdom in relationships is bad-this is to be encouraged.  It greatly annoys me when boy and girl are off in their own world.  This just shouldn't be.  I'm very much the communitarian when it comes to relationships.

You guys are all grown-ups...you don't need my help for the go-between . 

Another Blog.

For months now I've been living a double life - a double blogging life that is.  In an effort to merge the two worlds, I'm linking it here (click to go to my second blog).

I'm not abandoning xanga.  I'll keep this blog for my usual rants and raves on Life as He Reveals.  But I started a second blog (via the encouragement of friends) to be more intentional about the artistic side of me.  Check it out.