Because We All Need to Laugh...and Weep For Our Country

I wish I could have laughed this hard at all my 10 minute breaks at work...

I took a break from writing and came across this Web site: CakeWrecks.

Funny, funny stuff.

And after I wiped the away the tears from the crazy cake mistakes, I wept for my country. There are people out there who actually made these cakes without thinking to call the customer before sending them out.

Seriously, folks. :-)

Check out the link...it isn't the homepage, but it is part of the site I found the funniest. Go explore! Waste time! Join me in the odd mixture of joy and sorrow at these very real cakes.

Ok. Back to work.

Yo-Yo Ma Rocks!

I wish I could play the cello.

Sadly, I think there is a height requirement.

This Labor Day weekend, I'm going to try my hand at writing again. I've been far too distracted, and its beginning to show. So this weekend, I'm going to make up for the eight month long dry spell. Writers tend to be hermits, but I'll try to get some quality people-time, too. But a majority of my time will be me, my laptop (sigh...envy is hitting me again) a blank page with a blinking cursor and the playlist including Death Cab for Cutie, Beethoven, and Yo-Yo Ma.

At least I'll be in good company.

Grass is Greener

I don't mind admitting this, but sometimes, I wish that I owned a Mac.

Now, I don't usually use computers much for anything other than to write stories that no one will read, so I can't justify the cost. At the moment, I am using my friend's Macbook and I find that I am hit with the jealousy bug.

Yes, I covet. Especially when they're bright and shiny.

And newer than my current laptop.

Now, I don't usually get into the whole Mac vs. PC debate. Again, going back to the point where I don't use computers ofter than to write, I don't throw my hat into the ring. I don't mind saying that I don't know much about computers and such. For instance, I'm sitting here right now, debating on whether people still use the word "gadgets" to refer to tech toys.

Fact of the matter is, I don't care which one I use. However, I grew up with Apple computers. It was the first computer my family "owned", complete with its floppy disk drive. My elementary school taught us on the infamous Apple II computers and we thought we were on the fringe of the latest technology. In high school, I envied my best friend's new iMac when they first came out, and saddened that my laptop didn't come in funky colors like hers.

So I sit here, dinking around on my friend's Macbook, wishing that I had one, too. But in the end, I still can't justify the price to get one right now.

All of that to say is...donations are gladly accepted for the Abby-Covets-Her-Friend's-Computer-and-Now-Wants-a-New-Computer Fund.

And yes, as always, I accept all major credit cards.

A Letter from the Bleary Eyed at 3:43 AM

Dear Insomnia,

Hello again. This is letter is long in coming, so please forgive me for not telling you this sooner.

I'm breaking up with you.

We've hit a good stride back in college when I used to fill the hours with homework, reading, and last minute term papers. But since then, you've just gotten annoying. I have no use for you. Sure, staying up late can be fun, but I've got other things to live for. And I can't do that with you around.

I've tried to hide from you. I had a fling with sleeping pills. I stopped drinking coffee during the afternoon. I endured the neighbor's dogs just to keep my mind off of you. But nothing worked. Your presence is always here, and I don't know how to get rid of you.

But you're no longer welcome. You are replaced by a wonderful thing called sleep. Everyone loves sleep. I love sleep. I hope to encounter sleep every night from now on, and quite frankly, that leaves very little time for you.

So please, no midnight calls. In fact, no calls at 1:30, 2:15, 3:43, 4:07 in the morning. I won't answer. I won't respond. I've already wasted too much time on you.

Saturday

The time had finally come. Reading for pleasure doesn't come as often or stay as long as it had my first year at World Vision.

Finally having challenging projects to fill my workload, I have come to this sad realization that I can no longer finish off a book within two days of picking it up.

Sadly, I can't blame this shameful confession on my work:

I'm giving up on Saturday, by Ian McEwan.

First of all, I don't give up on books. I muddle through them, unless the last name happens to be Hemingway. (Sorry to all the fans.) I had really enjoyed Atonement by the same author, but I just can't get through the first part of Saturday.

Like Atonement, I expected the beginning to be slow. But this was excruciatingly, achingly, making my eyes roll to the back of my head slooooooooooow. At one point, someone was watching me stare off into space for three minutes while my hand rested on the same page. My friend also found it hilarious that I am usually found flipping through books quite rapidly, but this one seemed to be permanently stuck on pause.

It might be worth of note that it was my third try.

Sigh. Maybe someday I'll try again.

I just feel awful to give up on a book. And I guess this blog is my sad way of apologizing. :-)

Riding a Bike

First, I apologize for my last blog. It was a pure rant. And I usually process better before laying out my frustrations for everyone (well, the two people who read this) to see.

Funny thing is, as I was moping about my insignficance and my silent offering, I was writing my blog in the coffee shop. It was then I realized there was a line wrapping around the tables. This isn't unusual, but it looked like the shop needed some help.

So, I offered to help. To my surprise, they said yes.

As I rounded the counter and washed my hands, I rush of panic hit me. Its been nearly two years since I've been a barista...would I just be in the way? If I was in the way, it would be the pickle to my crap sandwich that is this whole week.

The stupid cliche is true. (I suppose it wouldn't be cliche, if it weren't a bit true) It was like riding a bike. I called out drinks, served pastries, prepped cups, steamed milk. I doubled-barred with the new kid and let him pull the shots while I told him which milk went for which drink. I even made conversation with the customers while I made a breakfast sandwich.

Now, this isn't my pining for my days at 6th and Pine. For the 30 minutes that I was behind the bar, I never lost sight that I did not want to do this for the rest of my life. I missed the thrill of a line to the door. I missed the communication and team work for a single goal. I missed meeting new people and making small talk with customers.

And even though I may never get to help in this way again, I do realize that God allowed it to show me that he does see significance in my presence--especially when I don't.

I am thankful that he can use broken, empty vessels like myself to be a blessing to a small group of people.

Its nice to be needed.

Losing the "Me" in "Team"

I've been quiet lately, and it mostly has to do with the fact that I am very angry.

This Sunday morning, my worship team was up. As a piano player, you don't get a whole lot of songs where you're not just playing block chords or fills. I usually don't mind because I am part of the team. When I had rejoined the worship team, it was pointed out that sometimes, the best I can offer are the things I don't play in between each note.

Being a classical pianst, this has been a struggle. I'm used to filling every measure with notes, and I had to learn the art of the "rest."

Silence can be golden.

So when I have an opportunity to actually lead a song I get excited. And this week, I had one song all to myself. I don't mean to sound proud, but I was excited to have this opportunity. I get to work on a song and see how I can make it better. The musician in me that I have long ignored craves these moments.

And so I practiced. It reminded me of working on songs over and over again for choir. I poured over the music and listened to it non-stop. I wanted this to be a good offering to the Lord and to offer more than what I had done in the past.

Of course, our practice Sunday morning was rough. And I couldn't hear myself play and see how I matched up with the band. It was to the point where I wondered if I walked off the stage if it would even matter. I felt isolated and ignored. It was heart-breaking. Usually, I don't mind because I'm two-notes-at-a-time-fill-in-girl. But I wanted to hear if my hard work on my one song had paid off. So I didn't mind that I couldn't hear myself during worship.

It isn't about me, after all. Its a team with an audience of One.

Every service, we have a recording. We use these records to listen to our blend and work on what we could do better. I rely on these recordings to become a better musician, to work on the one gift I believe God had given me.

And so I reach the end of the sermon, and nothing. Silence. Nothing. I don't know the reason why, but I'm guessing that it had to do with a timing issue. Plus, its just me. It wouldn't benefit the entire band to hear my one song. They can't learn from it.

With my wounded pride, I destoryed the CD that recorded this horrible Sunday. Of all the horrible things that happened this past week, practicing that song was my highlight and I have nothing to show for it.

I know this isn't true, but I was already feeling like I had nothing to offer. And the fact that my one offering this week was not part of the team CD just offers further proof of my insignificance on this team.

I will probably regret this venting session, but part of me doesn't care. I had hoped to be a good member of this team, and I know this mostly my pride talking. But I have gone this entire week believing there is nothing good in me, except for one single thing...and I have nothing to show for it.

So all that is left to offer is silence.

But that isn't always a bad thing.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Nothing. Aboslutely nothing.

I drank coffee. Watched the Olympics...er...swimming. I hung out with friends. Almost got stranded at Owens Beach at high tide...twice. Slept in until 7 AM. Had midnight conversations and Worship Team practice. Helped out with registration at Sports Camp. Took pictures of nothing at all. Celebrated my best friend's engagement.

Although that doesn't sound exciting to many of you, it was for me. I got a chance to connect with people I haven't in a long time, and discovered the joy of new friends. I took a deep breath and rested.

And I drank a lot of coffee.

Life is back to normal, the routine has resumed. And I miss the world that I rested in a week ago.

But now its time to do some good in it.

A Little Help

We watched history in the making. What Michael Phelps did in winning 8 gold medals in a single Summer Olympics is utterly amazing.

But he could not have done it without the help of his friends.

Particularly the 4x100 free relay.

But that's what makes Phelps' achieved dream so amazing...he could not do it on his own. Swimming 17 races takes a lot of endurance, concentration and strength that not many possess. And he had to win 8 of them.

Three out of those eight he was part of a team. In a way, he had to give more of himself to not let his teammates down. On his last race, the 4x100 medley relay, he did not disappoint; he swam the fastest butterfly leg in the relay's history. He did not achieve his dream alone; he had done in it the company of his team, his friends.

Jason Lezak, who had won the 4x100 free relay by one of the more historic moments in Olympic history (well, ones that we have seen) stated before that they did not do it for Phelps. And I believe it. That was never the team's expectation; another win for Phelps. They all wanted gold, and they had to do it together. And they could not have done it without each other.

From NBCOlympics.com: "It wouldn't have been possible without the help of my teammates." Phelps said. "For the three Olympics I've been a part of, this is by far the closest men's team that we've ever had. I didn't know everybody coming into this Olympics, but I feel going out I know every single person very well. The team that we had is the difference."

I like Phelps for many reasons. One of the greatest things I admire is that while he is a phenomenon as an individual, Phelps also displayed spectacular sportsmanship as a team player.
I suppose that is why I loved that Phelps' eighth gold was a team relay. We are truly better together, but it also depends on what we bring to it. And everyone on that team brought everything they had in everything they did.

Again...if only we did that in our every day lives.

Which, I have to get back to come Monday morning.

Amazing Race, Stylish Grace and Other Things That Rhyme

So...I keep watching the 100m fly. Controversy beside, it is just an amazing race.

Phelps lunges for the wall to out-touch Milorad Cavic. Cavic glides in while Phelps risks the half-stroke to propel himself forward. It wasn't experience as much as it was luck, but the overriding factor is was that Phelps was determined to get there. He wanted it more; to get there first; to capture that gold even if he didn't believe that he had.

Settling indeed. :-)

I think despite all the hype, with the media commenting on how "easy" Phelps makes it seem going for gold, and people "expecting" him to win, there is still hard work invovled. There is hunger that still needs to come from every competitor. And in the end, Phelps just wants it more. Maybe for him, its more than breaking records. He just wants to win. And in order to do that, he has to believe he will.

In my short 27 years of living, I have observed that skill and talent help. But determination and belief are harder to attain, let alone keep. Even harder still to get people to rally behind you. I suppose that is what amazes me with this Olympics and Phelps. Media aside, Phelps has the world believing what he believes: that he will win.

And we all love a winner.

In regards to gymnastics, (which, I don't always admit watching) watch Nastia Liukin's All-Around routines. It is a wonderful combination of beauty and strength. Her balance beam and floor routines are just exquisite. I don't usually listen to commentators (other than for fodder for discussion) but I agree with their analysis. Strength displayed in twists, turns and tumbles can capture gold. There has to be beauty within each move that can capture a nation. It is a feat if someone can do both.

And we all love beautiful things.

Of course...here's my swimming sidenote. The 4x100m medley relay is coming up. If Team USA wins gold or not, we are watching history in the making. And it will be amazing.

Process Stories

Does anyone else find it weird that the commentators keep saying "Mr. Almost-Somebody settles for the silver"?

I personally find it annoying. Silver and Bronze are great feats. Sure, they're not Gold, but they're not nothing. And I don't think people settle for second place. For many people, getting second place is just a fancy way of saying they lost, but it is nothing compared to not placing at all.

From NBCOlympics.com: "Laszlo Cseh of Hungary picked up his third silver of the games - all of them trailing Phelps. "It's not a shame," Cseh said, "to be beaten by a better one."

Ok. I'm done mincing words. Settling or not, I think it is amzing that any of these athletes are even competing in the Summer Games. To place is an admirable feat. You're going against the best in the world, and you hope that all your sacrifice and determination will manifest itself in an excellent way.

If only we were to do that in our every day lives.

Don't worry, my big sloppy kiss for the Summer Olympics is almost over. Swimming events wrap up on Sunday, and I will be back to work on Monday. But I admire these athletes who pursued their dreams and never settled for less than their best. Anyone who knows me know that I love the journey more than the end results; I like process stories. I love stories of how people found a dream, pursued it and what they had to do to achieve their dreams.

I wish for that kind of passion in my own life. Somewhere along the way--probably somewhere near when I lost my emotions--I lost sight of my dreams and the passion of that pursuit. I got bored with my own process story.

Maybe I'll find it someday, but I just can't keep hoping for the next big thing.

Phelps goes head to head with Ian Crocker in the 100m fly. Its going to be quite the race! And I don't think anyone can say that either of them will be settling for anything.

All the World's a Stage

Ok. I'm taking a brief break from a blog about the Olympics and swimming...ish.

Other than the Olympics, a conversation theme that has come up this week stemmed from a discussion about stages of life. Everyone, it seems, to be discontent with their current stage of life. They express either anticipating the next stage ahead (as if these stages are progressive...but that's another blog) or reminiscing about the good times they had experienced in the stage they had left behind.

The paradox of the life experience...looking ahead while appreciating the past, all the the while, not letting the present past them by.

My current experience is one of slight jealousy and sadness. I see so many of my friends progressing to the next stage "ahead," and for those who have children, a few stages ahead of me. I often feel left behind; that everyone gets to move on because they have passed some magical "test" of some sort while I have yet to take the first exam.

I often wonder if something is wrong with me.

Now, I don't actually believe that there is something wrong with me or that there is a test to pass. I don't believe that the next stage is a reward for conquering the present stage. But I do feel left behind and that I am, somehow, missing out on something great.

Maybe on the world stage, I'm not meant to play a romantic lead, or even the sidekick with the sub-plot relationship.

I suppose it is always a struggle for us to find satisfaction in the stage we're in. And like humilty, (which, I'm finding is a metaphor for most things) once I realize I have it, it's gone; when I'm satisfied with this stage, I'm no longer in that stage.

In the end, I just don't want to be left behind, and I am not exactly sure if I am the one who can fix it.

Ok...Olympic sidenote: Phelps, Lochte and Peirsol all swim tonight. Its going to be exciting races for all three of them. Watch out for Lochte...he's amazing! Maybe his drive to climb out of the shadows of Phelps and Peirsol will be enough to give him gold. I suppose I relate to him somehow. Never underestimate the underdog.

Slipped Goggles and Notes on Commentary

Last night, Michael Phelps won the 200m fly.

And after his second race that night (4x200m free relay), it was disclosed that his toss of his goggles at the end of his first race wasn't so much because he didn't meet his personal best, but because throughout his race, his goggles were full of water.

I would have chucked those goggles, too.

However, listening to the commentary, it was of note that the commentators were mainly talking about how "controlled" he was. Sure, they said it was a little different than they expected, especially after seeing the way he had attacked the 200m free the night before. But they were impressed in his pacing and control.

And they also said that Phelps could see his competitors.

However, Phelps later commented that he couldn't see anything. His "control" was due to his counting his paces and hoping he could make his turns:

From NBC.com: "As soon as I dove in, they filled up," [Phelps] said. "I was more or less trying to count my strokes, hoping I'd be dead on at the turns," he said. "I'm disappointed because I know I can go faster, but there was nothing I could do. I handled it the best way I could."

Sidebar: That is definitely discpline at its best. Despite the circumstances surrounding him, he just went back to basics. One has to wonder what would have happened if he didn't capture gold. I'm hoping he would demonstrate the same kind of sportsmanship as he has these Olympics.

Back to my notes...Its interesting to me that no one really know what goes on. They can comment, believing that it is either good or bad, but they don't know what you are experiencing. The commentators believed, as most of us did, that Phelps was doing fine, but his experience was far more interesting and challenging than we realized.

I guess watching the replay of the 200m fly, it reminded me of how we act more like commentators, either commenting on how good or bad someone is handling the situation, all the while oblivious to the person's actual experience.

I suppose we never really know anything about a person.

And after hearing Phelp's account, I hope that if I am faced with circumstances and situations that turn out the way that I had hoped or planned, that I would still do the best I could, even if it meant going back to basics.

So What If I'm a Little Excited

...or borderline obsessive.

Last night, I was chatting with some friends regarding the Olympics. And as I shared the expectations of the upcoming swimming events, my friends found themselves laughing at my abnormal alacrity.

And I wasn't talking about politics.

But the irony isn't lost on me here. Like the Presidential Elections, the Summer Games seem to ignite the country, rally the nation to be excited about what their fellow Americans can do. Sadly, like the Presidential Elections, the Summer Games only comes every four years. The positive feelings and good national pride will fade away and we will be back to our individual goals, materialism and economy, and shame for the mistakes our country has made. Heroes will be only found on the silver screen and the everyman who achieved a lifetime dream will be found at the bottom of the eighth page of the newspaper. Names will be forgotten in time, and the nation will forget what it was like to be unified with a single goal.

Until the next Election/Olympics.

I wish could bottle the excitement the nation feels when someone named Jason Lezack pushes himself forward for his team's sake in the name of his country. I wish I could get the nation to believe in America as much as they are behind Team USA. But I apparently don't have that kind of power.

So, I do get excited. Somehow, during the Summer Olympics, America becomes a little more like the nation I wish it to be. And I'll take it.

Even if it only comes once every four years.

And yes...Peirsol (100m backstroke) and Phelps (200m free) won gold. Go Team USA!

Olympic Fever, Baby!

Because of my aforementioned lack of cable, I have been watching the Olympics online at a coffee shop. And since I'm on vacation (which I just found out I did--long story), I don't have to wait an entire day before getting my fill of watching Olympic swimming.

Yes, I'm a Michael Phelps fan.

In both track and swimming, my favorite events are the relays. Team and individual effort can lead to very exciting races. And last "night" the US team of Phelps, Garrett Weber-Gale, Culler Jones and Jason Lezak won gold for the men's 4x100 free relay. If you haven't watched it, get excited and watch the video. You will cry. Written drama can never really fully capture the sheer victory and loss of .08 of a second.

Ok. I'm calming down now. With all the Phelps excitement aside, its a great Olympics to watch.

At least in swimming.

Really...calming down now. Aaron Peirsol's events are up soon and I can hardly wait!

Cable Capitalism Wins Olympic Gold

I'm running out of blog titles. Sorry.

When I moved to the apartment, I decided not to get cable. I'm distracted enough. Being confident in my decision against white noise, I am proud to not have to turn on the television every time I walk into the room. However, I have come to an impasse with my struggle with cable. The Summer Olympics are starting tomorrow.

Now, I know that Olympics coverage is still something left to be desired, but I love watching the events. Last Summer Olympics, I lived in a house where we also did not have cable. And I missed the excitement of all the swimming, gymnastics and track events I wanted to watch and I had to live vicariously by watching other people's television sets.

Sigh.

I confess that I don't watch the entire Olympics, and really, the first week is only truly what interests me. So, my question is this: is it possible to sign up for cable for a week? Just one week? :-)

Bigger sigh.

I won't give in. But like with most things, its tempting. I just have to keep reminding myself that NBC commentaries are not worth it.

PS--Happy David Duchovny Day. I wouldn't be Abby if I didn't say it.

Sometimes It Can Still Sound Sweet

Today, I was at a BBQ at a friend's house where I met some new people from church. One of them shook my hand and said:

New Guy: You look familiar.
Me: [already nervous.] I do?
New Guy: Oh yes. You play the keyboard church. You're the piano player!
Me: [blushing.] Yes. You could say that I am.

It has taken me seven years to get back to playing piano, and I must confess its been somewhat frustrating that I can no longer play the way I used to. I don't want to sound prideful, but I used to play the piano really well. I was proud of the talent God gave me. It was like breathing for me--nothing came so natural as playing piano.

I suppose it is apropos that today, a high school choir performed for us at chapel. Because I was in a nostalgic mood, I reminisced about being in my high school choir. I had a lot of great memories of being in choir, even during my senior year when I ended up playing piano more than singing. My choir director, Mr. Giles, encouraged me to keep playing piano, having believed that I was a musical prodigy just itching to get out. However, much to his (and many others') detriment, I quit after I graduated high school.

Knowing what I know now, I would never have stopped. I would have heeded my grandfather's warning not to stop playing so that I would not "lose" it. I would have taken Mr. Giles's advice and continued playing during college. I would not have given into my fear of being inadequate and just played for me. And maybe the pinniacle of my musical career wouldn't be stuck somewhere in the middle of my senior year of high school.

It's getting back to where it was before, but its a slow process. But when I was watching that choir today, I remembered when music was fun; when music was my life. Its no longer that way now, and I'm sure that Mr. Giles would reprimand me again for throwing away my musical talent (that's another story), but I hope that any music I make now would still sound as sweet.

It's Gotta Be the Accent

I think I'm in a James McAvoy kick.

I recently watched the movie, Penelope, with Christina Ricci and James McAvoy. Cute story, if you like modern fairy-tales. (Which, admittedly, I do.)

The movie isn't spectacular, but fun. It was short, too, so its quite painless. :-) And although the accent used isn't James McAvoy's original accent, I love it just the same.