Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Where Were You?

Where were You
when my world shattered
when I was being bashed, gashed,  beaten and nearly destroyed,
crying out Your name from a broken place? 


"I was beside you,
 weeping for your pain and 
rejoicing in the redemption 
I knew would be coming. 
You see, I can turn to good
what was meant for evil."


Where were You
when my life was falling apart
when just waking up was a struggle
and ends didn't meet?


"I was right behind you,
supporting you.
You didn't know I was there,
but without Me you wouldn't have made it."


Where were You
when I turned away
when I left you behind
in the name of fear 
in the name of pain
in the name of me?


"Beloved, I was on the cross."


And where are you now?


"Listening. Waiting. Where are you?"


Tuesday, September 8, 2009

"Dance with Me"



"Dance with Me."


I can't. My arms are full.
This load is too heavy.

"Dance with Me"

I haven't got time to dance.
Have you seen my schedule?

"Dance with Me"

I'm not a very good dancer. 


"Dance with Me"

Ask me tomorrow.


"Dance with Me"

Okay.


"I'll lead."

Fine.

Hey, where's that load I was carrying?

"It's not part of the Dance."


What about my schedule?

"This is your Schedule."


I'm not very good at this.

"Practice makes Perfect."


And what about tomorrow?

"Dance with Me."

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Stewart meets Lola: A True Life Vignette

This past weekend I was a San Diego hobo with my platonic facebook fiancee. We slept in my car and had a grand old time. On Saturday night, we settled ourselves down at an outdoor taco stand facing the street. We sat there for three and a half hours just watching and observing the colorful people passing by us. It was one of the most fascinating experiences I've ever had. We witnessed countless entertaing real-life vignettes. When sharing them, I wanted to do them justice. This is the first. Everything in here is completely true- gathered either by observation or by hearing the information first hand. I've put it in an easy-to-grasp format, to convey what was seen, exactly as it was observed. I do not do this story justice, but I assure you, it was an incredibly fascinating thing to witness.



Real Life Vignette #1


It was more than lack of motivation that made him look older than he was. Since he was old already, this did not suit him well. It seemed as if his life choices had lead him down a merciless and unforgiving road that aged him at an alarming rate, despite his desperate attempts to cling to his youth. In the shabby, over-worn outfit of a man half his age, he took his apathetic gait down a familiar street on a night that he had lived many times before.

Knowing many by face and none by name, he merely nods as he passes the patrons of the many bars and resteraunts located on the crowded street. His destination is vague, but he knows where his people are. People like him.

A friendly face brings his apathetic walk to an apathetic halt. He’s seen this girl before- even said a sentence or two in passing, but never connected.

“Hi,” he says to the girl. “You got a cigarette?”

Charming.

The girl obliges and hands him a cigarette, half-smoked, along with a match. The girl has many striking features. To the trained observer’s eye, one might note her muscular build, her startling lack of a chest, and her hairy legs. However, to the untrained eye (or to the eye of a lonely man) one might only notice her kind face, bright smile, and friendly demeanor.

In a ponytail, tank-top, and cute tye-dye skirt, she is sitting down to a burrito at a local outdoor taco stand. She has a love for life that shows in her kind, dark eyes and her complimentary nature. She surveys the man for a moment before asking “How are you?”
Her voice is deep. Her accent is slight- Venezuelan?

The man does not seem to notice either. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and smiles. “Have you found a job yet?”

She smiles back. “No, not yet. How did you-“

“I saw you earlier. By the coffee shop. You asked the woman for a bathroom key. When you came out, you told the woman you wished you worked there because you couldn’t find a job to save your life. Then you complimented the woman. Told her she was beautiful. She wasn’t. You’re real sweet.”

The girl smiled. Too flattered to notice or acknowledge the unsettling fact that the man had been watching her. “She was beautiful. We all are.”

The man takes another drag of his cigarette, now down to the quick. “You ever think about modeling? You’ve got the height for it.” He hears snickering. Two girls at the table next to him are settling down to eat dinner, laughing. Were they laughing at him?

He turns his attention back to his new friend. “I mean it. You should model.”
The girl just smiles.

A young, 20-something skates up to the taco stand. His new ball cap and designer trainers show that he is well taken care of. His backpack is bulky, but does not look heavy. He sits next to the girl. “Man I fu--in' hate this town. Too many fu--in' tourists. Can’t even skate on the sidewalk.”

The man addressed the boy. “Well you’re not really supposed to skate on the sidewalk.” His tone was friendly, but there was something dominant in the way he was positioned around the girl.

The boy ignored this as he turned his gaze toward the girl. “I brought it.” With the swiftest of movements he unzips his rucksack and pulls out a small bag of weed and some cigarette paper. He slides the treasures down the table to the girl. Within seconds, he zips his backpack, mounts his board and skates off toward the crowds still on the sidewalk.

The girl proceeds to construct her small bundle of entertainment for the night. Dominance replaced by excitement, the man moves toward the table. “Oh man. I’m so in on this.” He quickly surveys the area. No cops; only the two laughing girls from before. One of them was staring now, but they had been staring at everyone all night. The coast was clear.

The girl places the joint between her lips, but does not light it. She stands up and walks onto the street. She turns to the man. “You coming?”

The man gets up. As he excitedly strolls to her side, she smiles at the two girls who had been observing the scene. “Bye ladies,” she said as she and the man strolled into the darkness and out of sight.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

You Have the Power! End Women's Suffrage!

With all this election talk going on and both sides arguing about how the other side is uninformed on the issues, I was reminded of a project I did a couple of years ago for my Government class. I was to create a bill, and get 500 people to sign a petition in support of that bill. We were allowed to make signs, go on street corners, make ads- basically, do whatever it took- to get those 500 signatures. Another requirement was that we have handouts and the "literature" of the bill for the people to read, if they wanted to, before signing the petition.

And so I created a bill to "End Women's Suffrage". We made signs and "protested" on a street corner between two large industrial complexes, and one large church. In a day and a half we got well over the required amount of signatures (close to 800). Now, you may be saying to yourself "Good for you, Rach! Way to go!" If so, you are either a chauvinist or have not yet gone to wiki-pedia to find that "suffrage" is actually "the right to vote".

These results were both hilarious and disconcerting. These were professional people! All seemingly well-educated and put together, yet 800 of them were in full, compassionate support of ending women's suffrage. When asked if they wanted to read the literature, many said no and signed their name and commended us on our efforts. Those who didn't sign were just as fun. We got the finger a few times, but mostly the light chuckle and shake of the head.

So with election time drawing closer, it got me thinking....how many of us are like those 800 people who, without reading the literature, give our support (or don't give our support) to something because it "sounds right" or because the people in the T.V. ads (or on the street corners) are passionately protesting for or against it?

Whether you're Ba-Rocking the Vote or Raising McCain, supporting or not supporting props 1 to one-bazillion, it's just important to note the importance of knowing exactly what you're voting for....or you might just end up signing a petition to "End World Suffrage" (Coming to a street-corner near you).

Monday, September 29, 2008

How to Flash the Ladera Gang Sign

West Side Los Angeles. East Side Los Angeles. South Central. Compton. Oaktown. And introducing: Ladera Ranch! It is time, my friends, for the fine city...town...area of Ladera Ranch to join the ranks of the tens of California areas that have their own gang sign. Not only will it toughen the image of the...place, but it will also give a sense of camaraderie and a means of identification when not in the confines of "The Ranch" (that's what the locals call it).




Now for the step-by-step instructions as to how to construct this exciting gang sign:


Step 1: Extend your right* hand out in front of you so that you are doing about half of a "Sieg Heil"


Step 2: Extend index finger


Step 3: Extend thumb (you should now have a backwards "L" shape)


Step 4: Extend middle finger then overlap and hook it around your extended index finger


Step 5: Now face the palm of your hand towards your body


Step 6: Congratulations! You are now flashing the Ladera Ranch gang sign!







* When posing for photos, repeat these steps with left hand to be sure that the image isn't in reverse.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Road Religion

South Orange County Freeways can be a fascinating place. I can't tell you how many times I have almost smashed into a beige Lexus SUV trying to figure out what their personalized licence plate says or trying to figure out which DVD their kids are watching in the backseat. Another thing I've noticed lately is how proudly people display their belief systems on their vehicles. You've got the Jesus fish (this is the most common), then the Darwin fish (which is just like the Jesus one, only it's got legs), then you've got the Jesus fish eating the Darwin fish, and vice-versa. I don't get it. Why do we need to know this about you when you are driving? The last place I want people to know that I am following Jesus is on the freeway. Here's an example of a reason why:

Last Sunday I took the freeway to church. As it was Sunday, I pressed number five on my pre-set radio stations to take me to "The Fish" station- something I hadn't done since last Sunday. Anyway, I was singing the tunes, proclaiming the words of Jesus' love for everyone when all of the sudden, some royal a-hole swerves and almost hits me, speeds up , then cuts me off. I then proceeded to say lots of things, none of which had anything to do with Jesus or love, when I noticed two things: one was the very rude gesture Mr. Hole was making towards me out of his driver's side window, the other was the Fish symbol on his bumper next to about five "Harvest Crusade" stickers. I thought to myself how hypocritical he was, uttered a few more profanities as he made his gesture more violent, called him one last name, then finished up the song about Jesus' love.

Then I turned my head and the plank in my eye almost busted through my windshield.

It was then that I realized that it might not always be the best idea to display your beliefs on your car. I mean, seriously, if I'm going to crash into you, I'm going to crash into you- your stickers or symbols are not going to stop my car from smashing yours if you do something stupid.

Perhaps we should display those symbols somewhere where we ourselves can see them and be reminded to love everyone as Jesus does....even Mr. Hole.

Monday, September 8, 2008

So This is a Blog

School has officially started which means it is now time for me to find new ways to not study. What better way to accomplish this task then starting a "blog". What a blog is is still not exactly clear to me. Is it short for something? Blog. It's fun to say. Blog. Is it one of those words like "blurb"? Blurb. Blurb. That one's fun to say, too. I guess I'll ask around and look into this blog thing- Blog. Blog. Bloooooooog. It doesn't get old - so I know exactly how this space is supposed to be filled. Blurb.