Midnight Serenade

Ah yes, my constant companion Insomnia paid another visit last night.

This time, Insomnia brought some midnight music: my neighbors' dog. Throughout most of the night, this very cold, maltreated dog whimpered and whined, begged and pleaded his case. The song he sang on repeat was the ever popular, "I'm cold. Will someone please let me inside because my owners are horrible, horrible people?"

Sadly, this dog was no Phantom of the Opera, despite his yearning song of companionship.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not mad at the dog. I feel very sorry for the dog and I only wish terrible things to his owner. But under no circumstances do I wish a repeat performance.

You've got to pick a pocket or two

There are reasons why I hate going to the mall.

But first...a sociology lesson. There is a deviant term, "frottage," which gets its roots from the art technique of rubbing different textures with lead, chalk, or charcoal over a piece of paper. You probably have done this when you were in grade school with a crayon. It can be fun. However, for those who studied deviance, "frottage" refers to the deviants who get satisfaction and stimulation by rubbing against something...especially another person.

Say it together now...eww!!

You may never be stuck in a crowd of people and feel safe again...just kidding. Someone's got to be normal!
Back to my story.

I was at the mall, just finished buying what I went out to buy. I was making a beeline for the parking lot when all of a sudden, this person brushed by me and put his ENTIRE hand INSIDE my jeans pocket. It happened so fast that I didn't realize what was going on until he walked away. He probably was trying to pickpocket, but instead, he found...well, my pocket.

And all I kept thinking about was stupid frottage and how I am NEVER going to the mall again.

Another Cute Story About Grandpa

All right. I've been trying to relay this story for awhile now, so we'll see how I do! Sometimes the hardest stories for me to tell are the ones that are true!

Last Sunday, my sister and I visited my grandparents. We don't get to do that together (or at the same time) that often, so it was a treat to have dinner with them.

First of all, let me say this. Filipinos are not well known for their desserts. Luckily for us, my grandpa has a sweet tooth and keeps the chocolates and candies well stocked. This night's offering was a box of Aplets and Cotlets and a canister of Almond Roca. After dinner, my sister opted for the box of Aplets and Cotlets. She opened the box only to find six gold wrappers. We assumed they were Almond Rocas.

Grandpa laughed and said that our cousin, Olivia, must have done it. Still laughing, he went upstairs to retrieve more candy from his not-so-secret candy stash. (It's in the bottom right drawer of his desk.) When he returned, we opened the box again and found that the wrapper held not Almond Rocas, but...Aplets and Cotlets.

Bewildered, my sister and I wondered aloud why Olivia would do such a thing.

"She must have been bored," was the answer Grandpa offered.

My sister and I agreed. Since Olivia was expected to come later that night, we hid a real Almond Roca in the box and waited. We were not to be outdone by our young cousin.

When she finally arrived, she opened the box, pulled out a golden wrapped aplet and ate the treat as if it had always come wrapped. She also completely missed the real Almond Roca.

Bewildered for the second time that night, my sister and I burst into laughter. Olivia stood dumbfounded as her two older cousins were reduced to tears. When we finally composed ourselves, my sister related the story from earlier that evening. Olivia said she didn't do it. After she pleaded her case five more times, I remembered that she wasn't a criminal mastermind. I'm not saying she's not clever--for she very much is--it's that unlike most of us in the family, she doesn't use it for evil.

So...we rounded up the usual suspects. My Uncle Ned and my cousin JJ were on the top of the list, but they had not visited my grandparents in over a week. My Uncle Ronnie's tricks were mostly puns, not props. Other than my mother and I, the only person left was....

...my grandpa smiled, watching the scene unfold. And more than he had in months, laughed out loud. He enjoyed the prank completely. He told us that the trick was intended for Olivia. It was just a great bonus that he got my sister and I confused, too.

He laughed again and said that we should visit more often.

I love my grandpa.

If I lived in a Zoo

I hate it when people watch me.

This is my disclaimer: I would like to be seen, noticed. But never can I stand being stared at. I don't know why, but when I catch people staring at me, I find myself suddenly self-conscious and my clumsy self reaches new plays on klutziness.

Perhaps I was born nervous.

Despite my slight pet peeve, my very public job does not allow me to wallow in my fear of being watched. Being at this job for over two years, I don't notice the nerves as much, but every once in awhile, it gets to me. I can't explain what it is, but I feel trapped by their nonchalant, mostly non-judging eyes. And then I give them a reason to stare due to my penchant for dropping things and tripping over invisible holes in the ground.

Today was one of those days when I found myself in rare form. For reasons I can't explain other than there was nothing else to do, people kept watching me. And I, in return, kept spilling things. Dropping things. And yes, tripping.

I had no control over my already awkward body.

It was like I had become a monkey, seemingly flailing aimlessly about, and people were enjoying this haphazard show. And all I wanted to do was retreat to the back of the room (away from their superpower of sight) compose myself, and get back to my job...as a human.

I honestly can't tell you how it happened, but my bet was all those times I was forced to play the piano at every single party. I was made to perform, and I hated being commanded to perform. Everything was a show, and I was the...

Well...I wouldn't say monkey, because I actually played the piano very well. :-D

At any rate, that was my day at my very public job. I'll regroup and I'll be fine until the next time I feel like I'm living in a zoo.

Sigh...I hate it when people watch me. I'm already awkward enough.

Musical Interlude

I am having a slight fascination with the film version of The Phantom of the Opera. I think I might have a minor crush on the Phantom. I know, I know...it's the bad guy. I have a thing for finding the humanity in the most tragic of characters.

Besides, they are far more interesting.

Don't worry, I still have an unhealthy interest in politics, I still love the West Wing, and Josh Lyman and Toby Ziegler are still my guys.

Come, we must return. Those two fools who are running my theater will be missing you.

This is just an interlude.

Currently watching : The Phantom of the Opera (Two-Disc Special Edition)

Something Fun...Really

Ok. I am currently listening to the State of the Union. As much fun as it sounds (really, it isn't) the website featuring this 49 minute long speech has a really cool feature (really!)

Based on the issues address on Tuesday night's speech, there is a meter of relevancy of that issue in the speech. I found the most interesting variances are between the issues of education and oil. I thought it would be a lot different than that.

Check it out. Wahoo! You don't have to listen to the entire speech, but I thought that the issue relevancy issue was interesting.

Really.

Oh...and if you do listen to the speech, I'd like to make mention of the beginning when President Bush, in a historic moment, addresses the Speaker of the House.PS--You don't have to applaud when they do. You may look silly.

The State of Things

Never doubt for a moment that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world.

Did you think that President Bush would give the State of the Union without me mentioning it?

Silly Rabbit.

President Bush is giving the State of the Union tonight. The fact that it is called "the annual State of the Union" is funny to me. According to the US Constitution, the president can address the state of the union at any time he wishes (presuming that the Speaker of the House invites the president, of course). But I digress.

Will I watch it? Probably not. I understand this is very hypocritical of me, given my heightened interested in politics. However, I have better things to do. I will be at small group tonight, after which, I will watch House. I'll read about it tomorrow.

Do I refuse to watch the State of the Union because I don't trust the President? No. Do I refuse to watch because I'm tried of American Politics? No. Do I refuse to watch because having my heart broken so many times, I dare not believe that I'd hear anything different?

Certainly not. I don't put my faith in politics, let alone this presidency.

I refuse to watch because this speech, in of itself, doesn't change things. We will still have troops in Iraq. And if not Iraq, we will be engaged with, if not on the brink of, war with someone else. AIDS and Poverty will still plague most of our world and being one of the richest nations, we will still not put forth any effort to remedy the problem. We will still have a high dependency on oil because we can't help but buy bigger cars. The economy will not see a bull market any time soon, and the deficit will continue to threaten our crippled social security.

And yes, God will still bless America.

I have no problems with the State of the Union. I really don't. It's important, and I wish that we could do it more. But if anyone--the American Government, the UN, Bono or a small group of people--decides to put feet to words to challenge us to seek change and progress and not just for the betterment of our own state of affairs, that would be a sight to see. But like most people, regardless of American citizenship, we're just waiting for someone to light a fire under our untrusting hearts.
I feel sorry for the president (and any president, for that matter). It's hard to lead a nation this large and this disengaged to any issue that is worth fighting for.

And that, for the most part, is the state of things.

West Wing Speechwriters

As many of you know, I have an obsession (some might say "unhealthy") with the West Wing. In continuing with the political theme, I have been reading about the final days of President Nixon's administration and check the democratic party's website daily.

All right, I'll concede to the "unhealthy" description.

In midst of my political fascination, I came across Ben Stein's website. Ben Stein, of the infamous "Bueller...Bueller," reputation, was also a speechwriter for Nixon. At his website, there are featured articles that Stein had written. In reading those articles, I came across one that touched me and gave me a bigger appreciation and special affinity to speechwriters.

God bless our troops. God bless America.

Enemy Coffee Cup

There's an enemy coffee cup in my car. It's sitting there, next to a plastic Starbucks coffee cup in all its enemy glory.

I'm not talking about the mortal enemy coffee company that starts with a "T." It's a smaller coffee company, but since it's not Starbucks, it is the enemy.

I am aware that in terms of rebellion this is very small. But after being a coffee snob for a long while, this enemy coffee cup's presence in my car is about the most freedom I've had from my parent corporate company in a very long time.

And I don't mind it at all.

Nerdiness as a hereditary gene

First of all, I just want everyone to know how cute my grandparents are. They can poke fun at each other, but whenever I catch them being affectionate and playful with one another, I am reminded of how cute they are and how I hope to have that kind of marriage when I'm old and gray.

Since the snow, my grandparents' mobility has been limited to the confines of their house. As such, I
decided to visit them. As much as they annoy me during our family gatherings, when it's just us, I am reminded of how blessed I am to have grandparents like them.

At any rate, sometime after Thanksgiving, I was given the blame of breaking their Scrabble computer game. Now, since my grandfather started losing his hearing, he and my grandmother have been chained to the computer, playing endless games of Scrabble and Spider Solitaire. Having a love for Scrabble (after many games with my mom! Thanks, Mom!), and being somewhat of a nerd myself, I understood their addiction.

At a family dinner, my cousin Sam's boyfriend, Jerome and I tried fixing the problem. We came up with the conclusion that we needed to buy them a new Scrabble disc.

Which brings me to my visit with my grandparents. Armed with a new disc in hand, I proclaimed to my grandfather that I would remedy his boredom and enable his addiction to the great game of Scrabble.

Grandpa: Abby, I don't even miss it anymore.
Abby: [not believing him] Sure, Grandpa. But I want to do this for you.

After a bit of a struggle (apparently it took more than a new disc...) I got the game back for him. My grandmother had made me dinner, and when I retreated to the kitchen, I watched them as they both poured over the computer, smiles wide and eyes gleaming.

Grandma: [pointing at the screen.] No. You want this word.
Grandpa: [in control of the mouse.] This is better. You don't know how to play.
Grandma: [playfully punching him in the arm.] Yes, I do.
Grandpa: [pointing at the screen] That's not even a word!

I shook my head and laughed quietly to myself while they continued for the rest of the evening, playing the well loved (and missed) Scrabble game.

I know I don't say it much, but I am glad to have my grandparents, the wonderful, loving and somewhat nerdy, people they are.

Currently watching : The West Wing - The Complete First Season

What's my line?

So. I have this dream. Warning: there is absolutely nothing cryptic about this dream. Believe me, I've tried looking. I am just that obvious. Or oblivious. Whichever. You all can take a vote later.

I'm about to perform the play Our Town by Thornton Wilder. I'm Emily Webb, the female lead. For some reason, I don't know my lines. I haven't rehearsed. We're performing, and I'm basically screwed. Frantic, I start ripping out pages from my script, creating crib notes for me to read my lines from. I manage to squeak by unnoticed, but then something odd happens.

It's the scene where George Gibbs and Emily finally find that they're falling in love with each other. However, I can't find my script. I can't cheat, I can't say the lines I'm supposed to say. The scene goes on, and George and Emily fall in love like they're supposed to, but I don't know the next line.

I told you it wasn't cryptic.

Revolutionary Risk Takers and the Funny (Great) Thing About God

I am inspired. Amazed. Excited.

No...no new job yet. No new French phrases. No new pages. But never fear...I'm mounting a comeback.

I, however, have had two encounters that I know God has placed on my path. I don't know the reasons why God put them in front of me, but I know, at least, God has used them to inspire me and help me find the hope I have for humanity that I thought I had lost.

In the past 24 hours, I have had two separate conversations about risks. These two extraordinary people, have a dream. An ambition. A hope. And yes, both of these dreams involve a risk. A HUGE risk. They may fail, but by the grace of God and help from the body of Christ, they may very well succeed.

Here's to the latter!

What I want to say to these people (and countless others) is that of all the things that inspire me, what inspires me the most are those who dream out loud and are willing to put feet to the faith and take that risk.

And do other cliches, too.

It's one day after my "jump over the moon" hundred days countdown and I have done nothing. But after this God-lead conversations, I am more determined to go after it. And I encourage them to risk their respective dreams as well.

God wants us to have a life and to live it to the full. In other words, God wants us to have a life where we can take risks; for Him, for us, for others.
In his book, Waking the Dead, John Eldredge talks about eternal life. He said that eternal life doesn't begin when we're dead/in heaven. It begins when we accept Jesus as our Savior. It begins now.

Here's to our eternal lives. May they be extraordinary.

Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. --Anais Nin

Jumping Over the Moon the First 100 Hours

The only thing to do is jump over the moon.

First of all, I want to say that this is not a political commentary. I will admit, however, that I will not hide the fact that the roots of this blog stemmed from the fact that the The US 110th Congress convened today.

Most of the news I came across were about the 110th Congress and their ambitious/foolhardy plan for their first 100 hours. Questions: will they try to push out the Republicans? Can they succeed in doing so? Which laws will they pass and which ones will they pass by? And does that, if anything, have to do with our current situation in Iraq?

Wait. I promised that this would not be a political commentary.

Congress is under a lot of pressure for the next 100 hours (for those who don't want to do the math, that's roughly 4 days.) Granted, that isn't a lot of time, but a small body of people can change the course of history in that amount of time.

After the fourth or fifth article on some credentialed journalist/commentator, I thought... what great change have I done in the past 100 hours?

Heck, I have a hard time remembering what I did in the last 24 hours.

So, in the same spirit of the New Year's Resolution, the 110th US Congress and the Friends episode where Ross tried to do something new every day, I propose to do this...

In 100 Days...I'm going to (in no particular order or preference) learn French, find a new job, and finish my book.

Ambitious? Foolhardy?

Only time will tell.

I don't think I'll actually achieve any of these things in 100 days, but I'd like to remember the past 24 hours and have my only answer not be about work.

People can live a hundred years without really living for a minute.

Currently listening : Rent (2005 Movie Soundtrack) By Jonathan Larson

A Better World

The rest is silence.

Other than the fact that I am a human, I don't understand why this is affecting me so much. Today, on their first day back, a kid was killed in a shooting at a local high school. I was at work when I first heard about the news. It came from someone who was late to their job because she had been caught up with the breaking news that was happening half a city away from where we were. Her complaint, within a certain context, was understandable. But the delicate subject at hand added an element that made her complaint insensitive, untimely, uncalled for...

...wrong.

At the time I had heard about news, there were only rumors of injuries. Within the better part of the hour, we found out that there was, in fact, a fatality.

As I stare at this statement, I find a harsh reality from those callous words. With one sentence, I had reduced this stolen young life into a horrible statistic.
I am no better than the person who was complaining about being late to work.
The person died. He had returned to school from Christmas (yes, I'll call it that) Break. I remember those days. You're glad to see your friends after a long break. You're excited to show off the best stuff you received for Christmas, and within minutes, you're back in the gossip groove. You're complaining about the holiday homework and you're dreading the new wave of assignments your teachers had in store for you. It's an exciting time.

But for these kids, this January morning, there is nothing left but silence.

And profound sadness.

My heart breaks for these kids, their families, especially those who knew the person who had died.

This isn't much, but all I want to say is that I'm sorry, and that I, too, hope for a better world.

I weep for my country

I fear that this subject may turn into a series.

I was at work today and someone was complaining that the post office was closed.

Me: It's a day of mourning for President Ford.
Person: Ford? Wow. I didn't know he was a president.
Me: (confused). Yes. He was sworn in after President Nixon resigned.
Person: How cool is that? He made cars AND was a president.

Did I mention that this person was my age?

I weep for my country.

In other news--The 110th Congress convenes on Thursday, and the United Nations Secretary-General Ban started his term. Wahoo!

Currently reading : The Final Days By Carl Bernstein