Today at church the pastor was talking about songs with powerful lyrics - well, just one. But I thought - what a great sermon series! I've already "blogged" on a few, and I'm ready to add another to my list.
First of all - a type of aside - I do like David Crowder's not so latest song, "Foreverandeveretc..." I don't always like David Crowder songs - mostly it's his voice. But he's finally picked a song that suits him perfectly - it's a little goofy. But besides being goofy, I like the lyrics, "I'm finding everything I'll ever need. I'm finally giving up being everything. I'm falling for you for eternity. Right here at your feet where I want to be." I think we could all remind ourselves of that every now and then. We've got all we'll ever need.
But the powerful song I'm thinking of was sung at Easter a few weeks ago, "Ode to Joy." By Beethoven. I asked a friend once if he thought Beethoven would like our style - he said definately no. Still, I like to think we've jazzed it up a bit, personalized what was already a great song/hymn.
It's the lyrics, ultimately, that are powerful, though.
"Joyful, joyful we adore Thee God of glory, Lord of love. Hearts unfold like flowers before thee opening to the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness drive the dark of doubt away. Giver of immortal gladness fill us with the light of day."
I like the phrase "clouds of sin and sadness." First of all, it puts both together - right next to each other. Simple as it sounds, sin causes sadness, and both pull a cloud down over our lives. And, of course, God can melt those clouds - slowly but surely breaking through each one. What a little prayer to breathe! And it totally explains the joy of the first line!
Then there's the "drive the dark of doubt away." When I heard this, I first thought about self-doubt. Still on the sin and sadness page, I thought, "First God melts the clouds, then he drives away the dark. Leaving us with a sunny day..." But there's different kinds of doubts - like the doubt of God himself! Or how he is working in your life. God can drive those doubts away, too. Although, sometimes it's harder to see how, or what exactly he's doing for them.
I just love the mental picture, I suppose, of all this de-cloudifying and lightening in general of our souls.
"All thy works with joy surround thee. Earth and heaven reflect thy rays. Stars and angels sing around thee. Center of unbroken praise. Field and forest. Vale and mountain. Flowering meadow, flashing sea. Chanting bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in thee."
"Thou art giving and forgiving ever blessing ever blessed. Wellspring of the joy of living. Ocean depth of happy rest. Thou our Father, Christ our Brother, all who live in love are Thine. Teach us how to love each other. Lift us to the joy divine."
What another beautiful verse on the properties of God. Giving, fogiving, blessed...and the wellspring of the joy of living? That which causes our joy (not happiness), but joy - is so deep and flowing free. Like fresh, cool, water. (I suppose this was written in the spring or summer...)
So, maybe it's not so deep, but it spoke to me. At a time I was struggling myself with sin and sadness, this song painted a picture of joy and light. And peace - not explicitly mentioned, but the idea is in it. It essentially reminded me what being a Christian causes...joyful joyful...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Perfection
I was reading a novel on Dracula (don't ask why, I barely know myself) and the vampire said something intriguing: "You can never perfect being good. But you can perfect being evil. Why not strive for perfection?"
The funny thing is, he was right. There is no way we can perfect being good. Not that I'm about to go "be all I can be" in the evil sense. But it got me thinking: there really aren't a lot of people out there who are perfectly evil. Like, diabolically evil - heartless...calloused...and able to make a difference.
I mean, you're average criminal is justifying his actions in his head, even as he commits a crime. "I need the money." "He deserved it." Pure evil? That's another category entirely, that's "Because I could."
Then, the average criminal may feel some remorse. It may be because he got caught and is going to jail. It may be that he was waving the gun around, but never meant for it to go off. It maybe be that he fully repents. Pure evil? Even in jail continues to plot and plan.
I mean, these are the people who want to take over the world - the power hungry, those who don't mind who they step on on the way. People who only use other people - who never love, never respect, never care for anyone else.
I used to read Sherlock Holmes, and he had a similar phrase that always got me thinking. His arch-nemesis was one of those evil people, but smart. And he always said, "I have wondered what my life would look like if I had used my powers for evil instead of good..."
Striking!
Holmes is one of my favorite characters, someone I want to be like. Someone I admire, and I, too, have wondered on this statement. The truth is, I get his point. I get Dracula's point. If I wanted to really make something of myself, I could do wrong. I could throw myself into a complicated scheme to give me power and money. It would be a challenge. It would be fun. And, for someone like me, going criminal is no small step. If I were going to do something - I would want to do it well.
However, something Greater than evil has always kept me from looking down that path. I've looked down the path to power and greatness - the conventional path by the way - and I haven't always liked what I see. Even if I get there through good means, it looks so lonely.
And you know, what, Dracula was completely right when he said that it was impossible to perfect goodness. For humans anyway. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth trying for. In fact, by his logic, being good is more of the challenge, and isn't that what people like him, and Holmes, and I have always been about?
Now, in here somewhere comes the spiel on Grace. But I've learned, as of late, that no matter how hard I believe it, I cannot say it - I say it all wrong, or people don't understand...it's very unfortunate, because it has such great implications. Perfect Saving Grace. And, it's also a challenge. It's a challenge to accept it and not try to repay God with something else. It's a challenge to understand...it's obviously a challenge to explain.
So, anyway, Dracula - thanks for the offer, but I like being perfectly imperfect. And besides, in the end, Good always trumps Evil.
The funny thing is, he was right. There is no way we can perfect being good. Not that I'm about to go "be all I can be" in the evil sense. But it got me thinking: there really aren't a lot of people out there who are perfectly evil. Like, diabolically evil - heartless...calloused...and able to make a difference.
I mean, you're average criminal is justifying his actions in his head, even as he commits a crime. "I need the money." "He deserved it." Pure evil? That's another category entirely, that's "Because I could."
Then, the average criminal may feel some remorse. It may be because he got caught and is going to jail. It may be that he was waving the gun around, but never meant for it to go off. It maybe be that he fully repents. Pure evil? Even in jail continues to plot and plan.
I mean, these are the people who want to take over the world - the power hungry, those who don't mind who they step on on the way. People who only use other people - who never love, never respect, never care for anyone else.
I used to read Sherlock Holmes, and he had a similar phrase that always got me thinking. His arch-nemesis was one of those evil people, but smart. And he always said, "I have wondered what my life would look like if I had used my powers for evil instead of good..."
Striking!
Holmes is one of my favorite characters, someone I want to be like. Someone I admire, and I, too, have wondered on this statement. The truth is, I get his point. I get Dracula's point. If I wanted to really make something of myself, I could do wrong. I could throw myself into a complicated scheme to give me power and money. It would be a challenge. It would be fun. And, for someone like me, going criminal is no small step. If I were going to do something - I would want to do it well.
However, something Greater than evil has always kept me from looking down that path. I've looked down the path to power and greatness - the conventional path by the way - and I haven't always liked what I see. Even if I get there through good means, it looks so lonely.
And you know, what, Dracula was completely right when he said that it was impossible to perfect goodness. For humans anyway. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth trying for. In fact, by his logic, being good is more of the challenge, and isn't that what people like him, and Holmes, and I have always been about?
Now, in here somewhere comes the spiel on Grace. But I've learned, as of late, that no matter how hard I believe it, I cannot say it - I say it all wrong, or people don't understand...it's very unfortunate, because it has such great implications. Perfect Saving Grace. And, it's also a challenge. It's a challenge to accept it and not try to repay God with something else. It's a challenge to understand...it's obviously a challenge to explain.
So, anyway, Dracula - thanks for the offer, but I like being perfectly imperfect. And besides, in the end, Good always trumps Evil.
Monday, March 17, 2008
V for Vendetta
Ah - a wonderful movie. Last year around this time I was home for Spring Break and Daniel said to me, "Have you not seen V for Vendetta yet? Oh, you will love it! It will be "our" movie!" So we drove down to Dillons and rented it, and he was right - it was very good.
To be sure, there was a not-so-subtle political agenda. However, it had great music, and it was a thinker. You know, those movies that make you think about life and philosophy and the world.
So a year later, I still think about it. I think my life is finally catching up to the movie.
I can't quite remember the song - but I know there were strings, dramatic strings, and a drum beat driving everything. Near the end of the movie, one of the detectives stops and sums everything up. He says he feels like everything's been building toward something, and it's about to erupt. While he speaks, pictures flash of events in the movie, including parts of the movie that are yet to come.
I feel like that's how my life is right now. My movie may have 15 minutes left, or it may still have an hour until the dramatic finish. I may be V who dies tragically, or I may be Natalie Portman's character, who lives to start a new world. Either way - I can hear the drums.
When I came to Chicago, I started looking back at a weird series of events that had led me here, and I feel I made the, erroneous, conclusion that I was supposed to live here. However, I wonder if this is still just one more step in the multitudes of steps I have to take. One more screenshot of a key event leading me to something.
It all started with an internship - or lack thereof, I suppose. For the first time in my 20 years, my spirit broke. And then, when I did get an internship - a puny little private accounting internship at Raytheon, I felt let down. There was no "Higher purpose" in it, no "open windows."
Years later, as I looked for a job, my interest in Austin narrowed down the field to two firms - and somehow I picked the one that wasn't for me. That firm led me to Chicago.
And now I feel as though I see the next stepping stone ahead of me. Like the detective in the movie who knew something was coming but couldn't quite pin down the time or place, I know that once again I'm being pulled.
What I see is my dream becoming a reality. I have the opportunity to audit a pharmaceutical client in Kansas City - which means I may be on the path I've always preferred - of becoming a "pharmaceutical guru."
It seems for us auditors that our professional development can be tied to doing an international rotation. Here the drums start again. Through inquiries, I have discovered that my pharmaceutical clients lie in England, Ireland - places that I could see, would love to see, and that, conveniently, speak my native tongue. Through Chicago I have met a contact in the Dublin office - he likes me well enough. Could he open the door to that opportunity?
The funny thing is, it's years away, and I could be jumping ahead of myself. The detective in the movie didn't "see" the scenes from the future that the audience did. He didn't have that ability. And neither can I see the future. But perhaps there are other ways a person can be pulled upon.
I don't have to go overseas to feel as though this drumbeat is real. The desire to - the decision to - the resolve to - it's enough. Circumstances may change. But feeling that it's something I need to do - that's a big step. And I don't feel like I would feel that way if I hadn't come to Chicago.
And so remains the final question - when does the 1812 Overture play?
To be sure, there was a not-so-subtle political agenda. However, it had great music, and it was a thinker. You know, those movies that make you think about life and philosophy and the world.
So a year later, I still think about it. I think my life is finally catching up to the movie.
I can't quite remember the song - but I know there were strings, dramatic strings, and a drum beat driving everything. Near the end of the movie, one of the detectives stops and sums everything up. He says he feels like everything's been building toward something, and it's about to erupt. While he speaks, pictures flash of events in the movie, including parts of the movie that are yet to come.
I feel like that's how my life is right now. My movie may have 15 minutes left, or it may still have an hour until the dramatic finish. I may be V who dies tragically, or I may be Natalie Portman's character, who lives to start a new world. Either way - I can hear the drums.
When I came to Chicago, I started looking back at a weird series of events that had led me here, and I feel I made the, erroneous, conclusion that I was supposed to live here. However, I wonder if this is still just one more step in the multitudes of steps I have to take. One more screenshot of a key event leading me to something.
It all started with an internship - or lack thereof, I suppose. For the first time in my 20 years, my spirit broke. And then, when I did get an internship - a puny little private accounting internship at Raytheon, I felt let down. There was no "Higher purpose" in it, no "open windows."
Years later, as I looked for a job, my interest in Austin narrowed down the field to two firms - and somehow I picked the one that wasn't for me. That firm led me to Chicago.
And now I feel as though I see the next stepping stone ahead of me. Like the detective in the movie who knew something was coming but couldn't quite pin down the time or place, I know that once again I'm being pulled.
What I see is my dream becoming a reality. I have the opportunity to audit a pharmaceutical client in Kansas City - which means I may be on the path I've always preferred - of becoming a "pharmaceutical guru."
It seems for us auditors that our professional development can be tied to doing an international rotation. Here the drums start again. Through inquiries, I have discovered that my pharmaceutical clients lie in England, Ireland - places that I could see, would love to see, and that, conveniently, speak my native tongue. Through Chicago I have met a contact in the Dublin office - he likes me well enough. Could he open the door to that opportunity?
The funny thing is, it's years away, and I could be jumping ahead of myself. The detective in the movie didn't "see" the scenes from the future that the audience did. He didn't have that ability. And neither can I see the future. But perhaps there are other ways a person can be pulled upon.
I don't have to go overseas to feel as though this drumbeat is real. The desire to - the decision to - the resolve to - it's enough. Circumstances may change. But feeling that it's something I need to do - that's a big step. And I don't feel like I would feel that way if I hadn't come to Chicago.
And so remains the final question - when does the 1812 Overture play?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Don't Hate Me...
So I was at church today in downtown Chicago, and it was one of those excellent sermons that speaks to you. I suppose that's the real beauty of church - when the Spirit moves in our lives, 300 people can hear the same message and feel like it was personalized to them.
But literally, this pastor spoke to me. He said the words, "To all you singles out there." Wow. You know, pastors don't do that a lot. Probably the biggest failing of my last church was its inability to cope with single people. There were married couples and families. And College kids, but somehow, their singleness was never addressed.
So this pastor had the courage to stand and address us as a group, and what he said somehow got through to me. I've heard almost the same words from books and my girl friends. But perhaps it was his courage to actually say it out loud to a large group of people. Or maybe it was because he was a guy, and so it was proof that guys struggle with, or at least see, this same side of life. Whatever it was, it convicted me.
He was speaking, of course, on how single people make it their ultimate goal in life to get married. They put their hope in marriage. Their self-worth in whether they get married or not. And ultimately - getting married becomes their god.
Now, we all have gods. In fact, the pastor made another interesting point. The commandment reads, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." God somehow knew it was inevitable that we, sinful humans, would find other things to worship. However, he wanted to be first in our hearts, and when he is first, those other "gods" melt away.
So back to being single.
See, marriage is a god-ordained union. He created it and supports it and even says that we are supposed to leave and start a family. In this same sermon, at another point (yes, it was that full of deep little inspiring tidbits) the pastor mentioned how, in the Jewish culture at Jesus' time, a person's self-worth was their family. That's all they were. I certainly know that women, from the beginning of time on, have been reliant on the men in their lives for self-worth.
So the pastor was saying that we need to find our self-worth in God, not in others. Not in marriage. Not in a guy (or girl). But God.
And yet, family is so important.
Which is what leads me to my controversial thought - maybe arranged marriages weren't so bad after all.
Think about it. Back in the day, parents would arrange marriages for their kids. In a perfect world, this would be done to ensure the kids' security and happiness. Often it was abused, as fathers "sold" their daughters to whatever suitor was the richest or best connected. Surely people fell in love - the Bible certainly had many instances when a man fell in love with a woman and pursued her and won her.
I've actually never been that opposed to the idea. I mean, the last thing anyone of us wants is to enter into a marriage that won't work. But if the marriage is forced - then you, too, are forced to make it work. Now, while the Jewish law allowed for a pretty easy divorce, Jesus taught against it, so that the Christian arranged marriage really was a lifelong union. And perhaps it was a lifetime of struggle and despair. But don't you think that, knowing there's no other option, if you were stuck in an unhappy, loveless marriage, you'd do everythig you could to change it?
In the end, perhaps I'm a bit of a romantic. Swayed by books like "Love Comes Softly" or "Pride and Prejudice." You know - make life easy. Find me a husband first. I'll get to know him later.
But take my bitterness out of this. If there really are thousands of sad, lonely singles out there, maybe something's gone wrong with our system? Arranged marriages worked for thousands of years, and now all of the sudden, when we have freedom to choose who to marry, people also seem to think they have the freedom to choose when to end the marriage.
God doesn't want marriage to be out idol. He wants to be the focus. And that's what struck me. Maybe if my father were to hand me a guy and say, "Congratulations, Sarah, we've set the wedding date for October 14th, does that work for you?" I feel as if I could focus more on other things. "Finding a guy" could be pigeonholed while I grow closer to God, work on my career, and try to smile at my arch-nemesis when she starts boring us all at work.
God was okay with that way of life for millenia. I don't really think he's "un-okay" with it. Like I said, especially when it's done in love. Would my dad pick the right guy for me? Maybe not, but I know he'd try.
So what's my point? That I'd like my parents to arrange my marriage? Actually, it's not. See, I realized that, even though I wasn't part of this movement, I came from it. There are 10 things in our lives that we cannot change, no matter how hard we try, and one of those is our "time in history." So I'm having trouble finding a guy on my own - there's a reason God didn't stick me back in the "marry whoever your father tells you to" age. And I have to trust Him in that.
For one, it really speaks to me about God's gift to us - the gift to choose. In a smaller way. I see that God's all about freedom. He gave us the choice to choose him or not. He gave us freedom from our sins. And now, indirectly, he's given me the freedom to make my own decisions when it comes to getting married. Freedom - but I have to follow him in it.
See, it is easy for "being married" to be an idol. And I don't know what giving that up to God looks like - because really, it's an emotion. It's so much "easier" to, say, give up drinking for God. But to give up an emotion? That's too abstract. Not concrete. And maybe it's our challenge.
I don't know where to go from here, but I do know that I want to change. More so, or at least as much as ever. And God and I will have to work that out, because, as the pastor pointed out, following Jesus means "total abandonment." Total. So I dont' know what God wants me to do or where my next step should be, but I do know that I should follow it without looking back - even if, no, especially if, it seems to lead me away from the idol I've been chasing for so long.
But literally, this pastor spoke to me. He said the words, "To all you singles out there." Wow. You know, pastors don't do that a lot. Probably the biggest failing of my last church was its inability to cope with single people. There were married couples and families. And College kids, but somehow, their singleness was never addressed.
So this pastor had the courage to stand and address us as a group, and what he said somehow got through to me. I've heard almost the same words from books and my girl friends. But perhaps it was his courage to actually say it out loud to a large group of people. Or maybe it was because he was a guy, and so it was proof that guys struggle with, or at least see, this same side of life. Whatever it was, it convicted me.
He was speaking, of course, on how single people make it their ultimate goal in life to get married. They put their hope in marriage. Their self-worth in whether they get married or not. And ultimately - getting married becomes their god.
Now, we all have gods. In fact, the pastor made another interesting point. The commandment reads, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." God somehow knew it was inevitable that we, sinful humans, would find other things to worship. However, he wanted to be first in our hearts, and when he is first, those other "gods" melt away.
So back to being single.
See, marriage is a god-ordained union. He created it and supports it and even says that we are supposed to leave and start a family. In this same sermon, at another point (yes, it was that full of deep little inspiring tidbits) the pastor mentioned how, in the Jewish culture at Jesus' time, a person's self-worth was their family. That's all they were. I certainly know that women, from the beginning of time on, have been reliant on the men in their lives for self-worth.
So the pastor was saying that we need to find our self-worth in God, not in others. Not in marriage. Not in a guy (or girl). But God.
And yet, family is so important.
Which is what leads me to my controversial thought - maybe arranged marriages weren't so bad after all.
Think about it. Back in the day, parents would arrange marriages for their kids. In a perfect world, this would be done to ensure the kids' security and happiness. Often it was abused, as fathers "sold" their daughters to whatever suitor was the richest or best connected. Surely people fell in love - the Bible certainly had many instances when a man fell in love with a woman and pursued her and won her.
I've actually never been that opposed to the idea. I mean, the last thing anyone of us wants is to enter into a marriage that won't work. But if the marriage is forced - then you, too, are forced to make it work. Now, while the Jewish law allowed for a pretty easy divorce, Jesus taught against it, so that the Christian arranged marriage really was a lifelong union. And perhaps it was a lifetime of struggle and despair. But don't you think that, knowing there's no other option, if you were stuck in an unhappy, loveless marriage, you'd do everythig you could to change it?
In the end, perhaps I'm a bit of a romantic. Swayed by books like "Love Comes Softly" or "Pride and Prejudice." You know - make life easy. Find me a husband first. I'll get to know him later.
But take my bitterness out of this. If there really are thousands of sad, lonely singles out there, maybe something's gone wrong with our system? Arranged marriages worked for thousands of years, and now all of the sudden, when we have freedom to choose who to marry, people also seem to think they have the freedom to choose when to end the marriage.
God doesn't want marriage to be out idol. He wants to be the focus. And that's what struck me. Maybe if my father were to hand me a guy and say, "Congratulations, Sarah, we've set the wedding date for October 14th, does that work for you?" I feel as if I could focus more on other things. "Finding a guy" could be pigeonholed while I grow closer to God, work on my career, and try to smile at my arch-nemesis when she starts boring us all at work.
God was okay with that way of life for millenia. I don't really think he's "un-okay" with it. Like I said, especially when it's done in love. Would my dad pick the right guy for me? Maybe not, but I know he'd try.
So what's my point? That I'd like my parents to arrange my marriage? Actually, it's not. See, I realized that, even though I wasn't part of this movement, I came from it. There are 10 things in our lives that we cannot change, no matter how hard we try, and one of those is our "time in history." So I'm having trouble finding a guy on my own - there's a reason God didn't stick me back in the "marry whoever your father tells you to" age. And I have to trust Him in that.
For one, it really speaks to me about God's gift to us - the gift to choose. In a smaller way. I see that God's all about freedom. He gave us the choice to choose him or not. He gave us freedom from our sins. And now, indirectly, he's given me the freedom to make my own decisions when it comes to getting married. Freedom - but I have to follow him in it.
See, it is easy for "being married" to be an idol. And I don't know what giving that up to God looks like - because really, it's an emotion. It's so much "easier" to, say, give up drinking for God. But to give up an emotion? That's too abstract. Not concrete. And maybe it's our challenge.
I don't know where to go from here, but I do know that I want to change. More so, or at least as much as ever. And God and I will have to work that out, because, as the pastor pointed out, following Jesus means "total abandonment." Total. So I dont' know what God wants me to do or where my next step should be, but I do know that I should follow it without looking back - even if, no, especially if, it seems to lead me away from the idol I've been chasing for so long.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Al Capone's Speakeasie
A lazy drive through the country-like suburbs of Chicago leads you through narrow, twisting roads, sharp curves, and unbelievably steep hills. Driving through the woods, you alternately encounter mansions, growing as if not impeded by gravity or real estate bubbles, and little houses with pieces of junk dispersed throughout their yards, as if to warn away strangers with the macabre decorations. Danger lurks at every corner - literally. It is a jump across a bendy highway, with little visibility right or left, and a sharp turn and steep hill that leads you to the historic road that winds through the forest. A forest that is darkened, even in the normally bright evening sunlight. More sharp curves and another steep hill lead you to the water's edge - quite literally. I wonder how the residents travel in the winter - a little ice, and a car would go straight into the black river.
I see my destination but willingly pass it, choosing instead to continue on a few minutes in my smoky car, looking at the landscape as much as possible. While not white-knuckled, I am keenly aware of the turns in the road and how close my right wheels are to the embankment. After a few minutes I see no walking paths, no bridges. The river is uninviting. And yet, the leaf-less trees and winter sun seem to hide behind half-smiles, knowing, as I do, that it is truly a beautiful day. This fact is echoed with the songs of birds, unheard in my sound-proofed car, but a delightful addition to the spring evening.
At last I return to my destination, my little GPS lies quietly beside me - exhausted, I think, from the confusion of getting me here - too tired even to tell me to turn around when I've passed it up. The Hideaway, or speakeasie, blends in with the rest of the houses. Had I not been alertly searching for it, I would have never guessed it to be a restaurant. The alternating mansions and dumps cause a wariness, but the the mini-white Christmas lights peeking through the windows encourage me on.
Stepping out of my car, I feel as though I am literally stepping back to the 1930's - the days of the gangsters. The gravel driveway is soaked with water, un-sophisticated. I imagine ladies with fur coats and gentlemen with bowlers stepping on the same wet ground decades ago. The day is nice, so I take my time getting to the door. There is no window. I have no idea what to expect. For the next few minutes, every action is done timidly - unsure. Steeling myself, I open the door.
I am met by the sound of ragtime music, which continues to play for the duration of my visit, deepening the ambiance of the restaurant. I find myself in an empy hallway - an antique fridge to my right reminds me of my themed surroundings. To my left - another door, and ahead, mysterious stairs that I am not destined to ascend. Once again I resolve myself to follow the door to my left.
At last, the restaurant. It appears to be one room - well lit, with many windows lining the walls. However, later I discover a darker, secluded room in the back, also set up for dining, but perhaps where the heads of gangs used to meet to conduct secret meetings and create truces and pacts. I'm led to a little table, where I begin to read the menu. My waitress is young, nice, but I can't say I'm impressed with her black outfit - it doesn't serve as a blatant reminder of the era. She lets me read the menu, even after ordering - it speaks of the history of the speakeasie. Nothing I didn't know there.
Upon hearing that there is no Dr. Pepper, I order water, but later add on a "Bootlegger" martini, which I justify, thinking, 'How can one go to a speakeasie and not drink?'. I am rewarded with my choice with a quick question from the waitress, "Can I see your ID?" And with a satisfying flick, I am given more food for thought - on the contrary, it's the very height of legality for a 23 year old to have a drink. My drink is a concoction of chocolate and banana and reeks of strong alcohol. Unable to satisy my stomach's greedy desire for food, I am only able to take a very few sips of the otherwise pleasant tasting drink.
Of course, how can one sojourn to a restaurant without commenting on the food? My first course is a bowl of potato, cheese, and bacon soup. It tastes just like my family recipe, but I know it cannot be, as it is yellow with cheese and much thicker than my own attempts at the brew - attempts I would never try to force upon anyone not in my family. I am given a full portion of bread, perhaps my least favorite item of the night. It is covered with herbs and parmesan cheese and sits in a pool of olive oil for flavoring - all in all, a good idea, but the execution is somehow flawed.
My stomach is still yelling at me when the waitress brings the mid-course - a tiny lemon sherbert ice cream cone. I gladly take it from her and sit, content, licking it like a five year old.
The main course is the weeknight "special", a reasonably priced $17 prime rib and baked potato. When the waitress sets it in front of me, I realize that I am possibly in more danger than the gangsters of old, who used to gather here to break the law. My danger is less pressing, but just as real - nestled snugly in the potato is what may amount to a full stick of butter, and to my horror, I am unable to remove the cholesterol bearing weapon from the spud before it has melted into oblivion. But, just as Al Capone laughed at the possibility of going to jail for tax evasion, so I shrug off my impending heart disease and tuck in. The steak is delicious - not dressed with superfluous peppers and tastings as some restaurants are prone to do. In true Chicago style, my "medium-well" steak appears to be more of a "medium," and yet, I am not displeased. It seems the chefs here shake their heads with a "tut" when orders come in and err on the side of less-cooked, knowing that the patron will enjoy the steak better that way, whether they know it or not.
I had almost finished picking at my meal - not for lack of taste, but as my stomach was still questioning the strange things I was putting in it - when suddenly the ceiling erupted in a burst of water. Luckily, no patrons were wettened by this leak, and, had I had a comanion, this even may have provided a good laugh. As it was, those nearest the upside-down geyser were offered free coffee, as well as an explanation: someone had been doing maintenance upstairs, probably resulting in a less water-tight ceiling.
It is my belief that I tarried there an hour before heading home, listening to the jazz music. I remember hearing "When the Saints Go Marching In," an arrangement that seemed to bring out the harmony parts of the song and send my thoughts flying through time and space to various events: junior high choir, my trip to New Orleans, and visitations to another era that I had never even seen. However, that pesky stomach of mine was still crying at me to take it away from that place and take a walk. So, regretfully, all too soon I paid my bill, and walked out, through the darkened parking lot, to my car and the year 2008.
I see my destination but willingly pass it, choosing instead to continue on a few minutes in my smoky car, looking at the landscape as much as possible. While not white-knuckled, I am keenly aware of the turns in the road and how close my right wheels are to the embankment. After a few minutes I see no walking paths, no bridges. The river is uninviting. And yet, the leaf-less trees and winter sun seem to hide behind half-smiles, knowing, as I do, that it is truly a beautiful day. This fact is echoed with the songs of birds, unheard in my sound-proofed car, but a delightful addition to the spring evening.
At last I return to my destination, my little GPS lies quietly beside me - exhausted, I think, from the confusion of getting me here - too tired even to tell me to turn around when I've passed it up. The Hideaway, or speakeasie, blends in with the rest of the houses. Had I not been alertly searching for it, I would have never guessed it to be a restaurant. The alternating mansions and dumps cause a wariness, but the the mini-white Christmas lights peeking through the windows encourage me on.
Stepping out of my car, I feel as though I am literally stepping back to the 1930's - the days of the gangsters. The gravel driveway is soaked with water, un-sophisticated. I imagine ladies with fur coats and gentlemen with bowlers stepping on the same wet ground decades ago. The day is nice, so I take my time getting to the door. There is no window. I have no idea what to expect. For the next few minutes, every action is done timidly - unsure. Steeling myself, I open the door.
I am met by the sound of ragtime music, which continues to play for the duration of my visit, deepening the ambiance of the restaurant. I find myself in an empy hallway - an antique fridge to my right reminds me of my themed surroundings. To my left - another door, and ahead, mysterious stairs that I am not destined to ascend. Once again I resolve myself to follow the door to my left.
At last, the restaurant. It appears to be one room - well lit, with many windows lining the walls. However, later I discover a darker, secluded room in the back, also set up for dining, but perhaps where the heads of gangs used to meet to conduct secret meetings and create truces and pacts. I'm led to a little table, where I begin to read the menu. My waitress is young, nice, but I can't say I'm impressed with her black outfit - it doesn't serve as a blatant reminder of the era. She lets me read the menu, even after ordering - it speaks of the history of the speakeasie. Nothing I didn't know there.
Upon hearing that there is no Dr. Pepper, I order water, but later add on a "Bootlegger" martini, which I justify, thinking, 'How can one go to a speakeasie and not drink?'. I am rewarded with my choice with a quick question from the waitress, "Can I see your ID?" And with a satisfying flick, I am given more food for thought - on the contrary, it's the very height of legality for a 23 year old to have a drink. My drink is a concoction of chocolate and banana and reeks of strong alcohol. Unable to satisy my stomach's greedy desire for food, I am only able to take a very few sips of the otherwise pleasant tasting drink.
Of course, how can one sojourn to a restaurant without commenting on the food? My first course is a bowl of potato, cheese, and bacon soup. It tastes just like my family recipe, but I know it cannot be, as it is yellow with cheese and much thicker than my own attempts at the brew - attempts I would never try to force upon anyone not in my family. I am given a full portion of bread, perhaps my least favorite item of the night. It is covered with herbs and parmesan cheese and sits in a pool of olive oil for flavoring - all in all, a good idea, but the execution is somehow flawed.
My stomach is still yelling at me when the waitress brings the mid-course - a tiny lemon sherbert ice cream cone. I gladly take it from her and sit, content, licking it like a five year old.
The main course is the weeknight "special", a reasonably priced $17 prime rib and baked potato. When the waitress sets it in front of me, I realize that I am possibly in more danger than the gangsters of old, who used to gather here to break the law. My danger is less pressing, but just as real - nestled snugly in the potato is what may amount to a full stick of butter, and to my horror, I am unable to remove the cholesterol bearing weapon from the spud before it has melted into oblivion. But, just as Al Capone laughed at the possibility of going to jail for tax evasion, so I shrug off my impending heart disease and tuck in. The steak is delicious - not dressed with superfluous peppers and tastings as some restaurants are prone to do. In true Chicago style, my "medium-well" steak appears to be more of a "medium," and yet, I am not displeased. It seems the chefs here shake their heads with a "tut" when orders come in and err on the side of less-cooked, knowing that the patron will enjoy the steak better that way, whether they know it or not.
I had almost finished picking at my meal - not for lack of taste, but as my stomach was still questioning the strange things I was putting in it - when suddenly the ceiling erupted in a burst of water. Luckily, no patrons were wettened by this leak, and, had I had a comanion, this even may have provided a good laugh. As it was, those nearest the upside-down geyser were offered free coffee, as well as an explanation: someone had been doing maintenance upstairs, probably resulting in a less water-tight ceiling.
It is my belief that I tarried there an hour before heading home, listening to the jazz music. I remember hearing "When the Saints Go Marching In," an arrangement that seemed to bring out the harmony parts of the song and send my thoughts flying through time and space to various events: junior high choir, my trip to New Orleans, and visitations to another era that I had never even seen. However, that pesky stomach of mine was still crying at me to take it away from that place and take a walk. So, regretfully, all too soon I paid my bill, and walked out, through the darkened parking lot, to my car and the year 2008.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Characters
In talking to my friend the other day, I was stealing free advice from a KSU English Department graudate really. I hope she doesn't mind. :)
Anyway, we were talking about our common "passion" - writing. She made an excellent point - that, while we draw our characters from real life, they shouldn't be exactly like us. Sure enough, most of my main characters are - me - in disguise, and the villians, love interest, etc, all real.
So I thought I'd try a few exercises in characters - maybe drawing from real life, but "filling in the blanks in people's lives" or taking a "supporting character" and finding a "main story" for him or her.
Anyway, I'm thinking of randomly posting mini-bios on people I barely know. And we'll start with (name change, obviously) Tabetha.
On the outside, Tabetha isn't the kind of person you'd stop to examine deeply. She's just loud enough to be heard - with a middle-of-the-road personality that essentially ensures that 1/3 of the people she meets love her, hate her, or don't really think much about her.
Her past isn't surprising either. It fits into her present perfectly. She has left enough of it in her life to tip you off, without delving too deeply into it. If she told you she struggled with drinking and smoking pot as a teenager, you'd believer her. But you'd just as easily believe her when she told you she didn't do it anymore. That she found religion and it saved her from herself. But she doesn't "do that" anymore either.
You'll never get far talking to her. She has a plethora of mild interests, so discussions can be long and varied, but they leave you feeling a little - empty.
There is one thing intriguing about her, though. Her career choice. Accounting? She has none of those nerdy aspects. But she seems happy at her job. Knowledgable. Competent. How did that happen? I suppose one would have to ask, wouldn't he?
Like the rest of her, the story isn't that interesting. Born to a father who was a CPA - had his own private business. Her mother stayed at home with her and her sister. Her sister started it, really. She went to the best accounting school in the country and graduated with an MBA and a 3.8.
When it was Tabetha's turn, she just did the typical thing. Followed in her father and sister's footsteps. It was easier than trying to come up with a career on her own. So she went to college and graduated, parents at her side, smiling at the camera.
I hope this story hasn't been too boring, and yet, it exemplifies the accountant really. Poor Tabetha was more of one than she thought - stable, predictable, repetitive. And intriguing. You'll never really know where she'll go from here...
Anyway, we were talking about our common "passion" - writing. She made an excellent point - that, while we draw our characters from real life, they shouldn't be exactly like us. Sure enough, most of my main characters are - me - in disguise, and the villians, love interest, etc, all real.
So I thought I'd try a few exercises in characters - maybe drawing from real life, but "filling in the blanks in people's lives" or taking a "supporting character" and finding a "main story" for him or her.
Anyway, I'm thinking of randomly posting mini-bios on people I barely know. And we'll start with (name change, obviously) Tabetha.
On the outside, Tabetha isn't the kind of person you'd stop to examine deeply. She's just loud enough to be heard - with a middle-of-the-road personality that essentially ensures that 1/3 of the people she meets love her, hate her, or don't really think much about her.
Her past isn't surprising either. It fits into her present perfectly. She has left enough of it in her life to tip you off, without delving too deeply into it. If she told you she struggled with drinking and smoking pot as a teenager, you'd believer her. But you'd just as easily believe her when she told you she didn't do it anymore. That she found religion and it saved her from herself. But she doesn't "do that" anymore either.
You'll never get far talking to her. She has a plethora of mild interests, so discussions can be long and varied, but they leave you feeling a little - empty.
There is one thing intriguing about her, though. Her career choice. Accounting? She has none of those nerdy aspects. But she seems happy at her job. Knowledgable. Competent. How did that happen? I suppose one would have to ask, wouldn't he?
Like the rest of her, the story isn't that interesting. Born to a father who was a CPA - had his own private business. Her mother stayed at home with her and her sister. Her sister started it, really. She went to the best accounting school in the country and graduated with an MBA and a 3.8.
When it was Tabetha's turn, she just did the typical thing. Followed in her father and sister's footsteps. It was easier than trying to come up with a career on her own. So she went to college and graduated, parents at her side, smiling at the camera.
I hope this story hasn't been too boring, and yet, it exemplifies the accountant really. Poor Tabetha was more of one than she thought - stable, predictable, repetitive. And intriguing. You'll never really know where she'll go from here...
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Home
So I've found a home among my coworkers. In case anyone didn't know, I absolutely LOVE working in Chicago! And, as with any job, it's the coworkers who make the difference.
Anyway, I've been struck by something since about November - people I work with laugh at my jokes! (That's unusual, in case there was any question).
But I've finally figured it out!
I have found the smalles possible subset of personality type to equal mine.
Let me explain.
For those who major in accounting, there are two major career paths - public and private. If you choose private, you can go tax or audit. You also have to choose what firm to work for: Deloitte, KPMG, Price Waterhouse Coopers, or Ernst and Young. Or you could go with a smaller firm.
The result is a sort of flow chart or tree diagram, that splits up accounting into no less than 11 career paths - right out of college! Kansas City is unique, however, there is more splitting up, as within the firm you can choose what kind of industry to audit.
And with each break, a difference in personality. Differences are subtle to the outsider - we're all accountants after all.
Public accountants are professionals - they tend to be ambitious, glamorous, and young. How does that happen? Well, usually they jump ship to private accounting early on in their careers, although not before they had a chance to get a little boost.
In public accounting, there are tax and audit, and here comes probably the bigest difference in accounting strata. I can't describe tax as much, not being in it, except that they like routine. A tax friend of mine described it as becoming an expert in something. Tax accountants also get the opportunity to help people, and I'm assuming they like that.
Auditors describe their jobs as doing something different every day. They get to travel and work with people (although not always help them). They ask questions. A large part of their job is, "Why? Why? Can you explain that? Yes, but?"
And then there's the different firms! KPMG is the "fun" firm. PWC - the nerds. And EY is a combo of both. And, of course, if you choose to go with a smaller firm, that says a lot about the work environment and kinds of clients you're interested in.
There are assumptions I can make about industries - finance auditors make more money, government auditors have better hours. It's a matter of priorities, there.
So now that I've enlightened everyone as to the secret inner workings of accountants, I just would like to reiterate the main point - I am happy at work because I had to go through a rigourous personality test to get where I was - to make that decision. So it only makes sense that people should laugh at my jokes - they get me because they are like me!
(Disclaimer - they are also very different from me - I learn interesting facts every day)
Anyway, I've been struck by something since about November - people I work with laugh at my jokes! (That's unusual, in case there was any question).
But I've finally figured it out!
I have found the smalles possible subset of personality type to equal mine.
Let me explain.
For those who major in accounting, there are two major career paths - public and private. If you choose private, you can go tax or audit. You also have to choose what firm to work for: Deloitte, KPMG, Price Waterhouse Coopers, or Ernst and Young. Or you could go with a smaller firm.
The result is a sort of flow chart or tree diagram, that splits up accounting into no less than 11 career paths - right out of college! Kansas City is unique, however, there is more splitting up, as within the firm you can choose what kind of industry to audit.
And with each break, a difference in personality. Differences are subtle to the outsider - we're all accountants after all.
Public accountants are professionals - they tend to be ambitious, glamorous, and young. How does that happen? Well, usually they jump ship to private accounting early on in their careers, although not before they had a chance to get a little boost.
In public accounting, there are tax and audit, and here comes probably the bigest difference in accounting strata. I can't describe tax as much, not being in it, except that they like routine. A tax friend of mine described it as becoming an expert in something. Tax accountants also get the opportunity to help people, and I'm assuming they like that.
Auditors describe their jobs as doing something different every day. They get to travel and work with people (although not always help them). They ask questions. A large part of their job is, "Why? Why? Can you explain that? Yes, but?"
And then there's the different firms! KPMG is the "fun" firm. PWC - the nerds. And EY is a combo of both. And, of course, if you choose to go with a smaller firm, that says a lot about the work environment and kinds of clients you're interested in.
There are assumptions I can make about industries - finance auditors make more money, government auditors have better hours. It's a matter of priorities, there.
So now that I've enlightened everyone as to the secret inner workings of accountants, I just would like to reiterate the main point - I am happy at work because I had to go through a rigourous personality test to get where I was - to make that decision. So it only makes sense that people should laugh at my jokes - they get me because they are like me!
(Disclaimer - they are also very different from me - I learn interesting facts every day)
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Thou Shalt Not Covet
So I've been thinking about this commandment, and I think for women it might have a special meaning.
I'm not a typical woman - I don't care a lot about decorating my new house. But I do know a good looking house when I see it, and I wish I could afford to decorate it nicely (including hiring said decorators).
Anyway, another thing I covet - other womens' clothes.
Oh yes. Walking down the halls at work, seemingly every girl I pass has a "cute" outfit on, and I find myself thinking, "I want that. I really want that." Then desperately trying to memorize what's in it.
See, I'm not good at clothing choices. I often fall for the trick of, "If it's on sale, it must be in style," as well as the, "Granny clothes on a young model" trick. I can't really match, and I am forced to stick to simple, yet effective rules to keep me dressed:
1. Don't wear stripes with stripes.
2. Just go ahead and say that anything with a pattern cannot be worn with anything else with a pattern
3. Don't wear two blacks, unless you are absolutely sure they go together (so in my case, don't wear black with black)
I'm sure there are more.
Anyway, my friends have helped me shop, but I still wake up every morning unsure of what I'm throwing together from my supply. I have literally dreamed of going into a store, pointing to a manequin, and asking the sales lady to give it to me in my size. And I order from catalogs now, so that I can see the picture of how it all goes together.
But I still find myself lusting over other women's outfits. How do they do it?
And the funny thing is, I want all of the outfits, but how could I ever afford them? I have too many clothes as it is?
I suppose I just long to be put together.
So while I was walking down the hall, Ithought that I this "clothe envy" really was breaking a commandment. But why the commandment?
I suppose there's some Good reasons. God didn't want a man lusting after his neighbor's wife so much that he was a) unfaithful with her b) unfaithful with his own wife or c) Would send his neighbor into the front lines of a battle so he could marry his neighbor's wife, who was already pregnant with his son (David)
But if you take the literal words away and turn it into "thou shalt not envy" there are even more lessons. Being green is not an attractive color in person. At all.
And it also belies seomthing about the jealous person. Low self confidence. Belief that something else is better. Less trust in the life God gave them.
So when I covet my coworkers clothing, I'm saying, essentially, I can't do it on my own. I'm not happy with the way God made me (fashion dense). Instead, I should be celebrating the gifts God did give me.
I'm not a typical woman - I don't care a lot about decorating my new house. But I do know a good looking house when I see it, and I wish I could afford to decorate it nicely (including hiring said decorators).
Anyway, another thing I covet - other womens' clothes.
Oh yes. Walking down the halls at work, seemingly every girl I pass has a "cute" outfit on, and I find myself thinking, "I want that. I really want that." Then desperately trying to memorize what's in it.
See, I'm not good at clothing choices. I often fall for the trick of, "If it's on sale, it must be in style," as well as the, "Granny clothes on a young model" trick. I can't really match, and I am forced to stick to simple, yet effective rules to keep me dressed:
1. Don't wear stripes with stripes.
2. Just go ahead and say that anything with a pattern cannot be worn with anything else with a pattern
3. Don't wear two blacks, unless you are absolutely sure they go together (so in my case, don't wear black with black)
I'm sure there are more.
Anyway, my friends have helped me shop, but I still wake up every morning unsure of what I'm throwing together from my supply. I have literally dreamed of going into a store, pointing to a manequin, and asking the sales lady to give it to me in my size. And I order from catalogs now, so that I can see the picture of how it all goes together.
But I still find myself lusting over other women's outfits. How do they do it?
And the funny thing is, I want all of the outfits, but how could I ever afford them? I have too many clothes as it is?
I suppose I just long to be put together.
So while I was walking down the hall, Ithought that I this "clothe envy" really was breaking a commandment. But why the commandment?
I suppose there's some Good reasons. God didn't want a man lusting after his neighbor's wife so much that he was a) unfaithful with her b) unfaithful with his own wife or c) Would send his neighbor into the front lines of a battle so he could marry his neighbor's wife, who was already pregnant with his son (David)
But if you take the literal words away and turn it into "thou shalt not envy" there are even more lessons. Being green is not an attractive color in person. At all.
And it also belies seomthing about the jealous person. Low self confidence. Belief that something else is better. Less trust in the life God gave them.
So when I covet my coworkers clothing, I'm saying, essentially, I can't do it on my own. I'm not happy with the way God made me (fashion dense). Instead, I should be celebrating the gifts God did give me.
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