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