An 18 Year Old Love Affair

Yesterday I went to the NKOTB "The Block" Concert. It was actually a decent show. They either are good business men themselves and/or have an excellent marketing team. The show was well put together and not too cheesy. It had just the right balance of old school and new school. (And I wasn't even a fan back in the day.)


Their opening act, Lady Gaga . . . well, I don't even know what to say about her. She definitely has some heavy european influences, is very dramatic, and likes bats. Click here http://www.ladygaga.com/ if you want to catch more of her.


Natasha Bedingfield more than made up for the first act by being her awesome and sweet self. She was so nice. And she said it best as she dedicated one of her songs to the whole arena full of women. She said she thought the NKOTB Reunion tour was sweet because it is the culmination of an 18 year old love affair. What a thoughtful and poignant point of view, and so true. I saw a whole stadium full of grown women turn into giggly, giddy 13 year olds the instant NKOTB came out on stage.

It is an interesting situation to be in a room full of people so like yourself. The whole room was full of women, ages ranging from 28ish to 33ish, with a sprinkling of begruding husbands or boyfriends mixed in. We were all different shapes, sizes, and colors, but there for one purpose--to see New Kids On The Block. There is a solidarity felt when one is in such a homogeneous environment. And it was kind of awesome to watch . . . thousands of women singing the lines to songs they probably didn't even realize they still knew.

Overall, I give it a thumbs up. Good job, NKOTB, on the comeback. And kuddos for being so forward thinking to become the original "boy band" so long ago . . . I'm not sure anyone's given you all the credit you deserve for that.

Boo part Two

Evidently, I'm not the only one who thinks it smells like fries. I'm not sure what the "no one dies!" part means, but this is a sweatshirt that you can buy at Cafepress.

Boo for BioDiesel

Before you get too riled up, hear me out.

I understand the benefits of Biodiesel. I understand that it's a viable alternative to traditional fossel fuels.

But it is not my friend.

Today, as many days, I left work around 6 pm. At 5 pm I ate a small snack because I started to get hungry. By 6 o'clock I was getting hungry again and decided it was time to go home. I thought about going through a drive through, but decided I didn't need to spend the money nor did I have room in my "caloric budget" for the calories--instead I made a plan to stop by Fred Meyer on my way home. So, I got straight on the freeway and headed north.

But as I drove, I found my stomach grumbling more and more. At first I couldn't identify the problem, but soon I realized the yummy smell of french fries was wafting through the interior of my car. I'm thinking, do I have left over french fries in the floor board of my car? (not unheard of) Are they getting heated up? No, my car was actually pretty clean--no left over fast food here. And there are no restaurants near I-5 in this part of town. Where is that smell coming from? My hunger is beginning to conjure up images of a giant scary Burger King figure chasing my car down the interstate! And then I spot it. The dreaded bumper-sticker. It's on the car in front of me. I've seen it before . . . "This car powered by Biodiesel."

I'm trying to treat my body and my pocketbook better these days: trying to lose a little weight and not to eat out so much, but at that moment I was having trouble focusing . How's a girl supposed to be successful when she can't even drive down the road without her senses being bombarded by grease? It's like driving through the midway at the county fair--visions of funnel cake and elephant ears danced through my head.

Thank goodness I've encountered this phenomenon before and I've a learned a couple of things about how to resist the King's attacks. I forced myself to imagine the yummy sun-dried tomato, feta, and spinach pizza I was going to make when I got home. And somehow, by grace, I made it to the grocery store, and then home to my house without taking any detours through a drive-thru.

Not every day is so successful.

So, hats off to you environmentally friendly types who drive a biodiesel powered vehicle--I'm glad you're doing your part to reduce our need for fossel fuels. But my plea goes out to you biodiesel technology creating scientists--if you can make a car run on leftover grease, can't we do something about the smell?

Go Cougs!

This is how one should dress on a beautiful, crisp, fall day in the Pacific NW!

Motivated by fear of being eaten by a Lion

When I was in kindergarten I must have been a little pill, or at least that's the conclusion I've come to. How, you may ask, did I come to this conclusion? Well, my kindergarten teacher purchased a book for me from the Scholastic Book Fair; a book I came to know as "I Don't Care Pierre." Basically, Pierre's response to everything is "I don't care." And eventually, at the end of the book, he gets eaten by a lion because he doesn't care.

I know. It's a little startling, isn't it?

In fact I had several recurring dreams as a little girl and young woman, and one of them stemmed from this book, I'm pretty sure. My whole family was at my house for a gathering and a pack of lions came and ate everyone except my Aunt Gail and me. We were smart enough to climb up on kitchen chairs and this somehow protected us from the roaring beasts. My dream always ended with Gail and I standing on our respective chairs across the room from each other with the lions walking in circles below us. Somehow in my dream those chairs seemed really, really tall.

To be fair, I guess that crazy recurring dream wasn't all the book's fault. I also frequently dreamt that a giant fire-breathing crab would come over the hills south of the Valley and come straight for our house, leaving a charred, blackened, empty path in it's wake. I know it sounds silly now, but I always woke up terrified as a child.

Anybody got a Joseph in their back pocket who wants to interpret for me? I can't promise fame and fortune, but I've got more dreams :)

Recently, while perusing a Scholastic Book Fair flyer, my mind was flooded with grammar school memories, including Pierre. But it wasn't until I was taking a stupid interview on Facebook (more on the interview in a sec) that I decided to google the book. I found out the name is actually Pierre: A Cautionary Tale in 5 chapters and a Prologue by Maurice Sendak. Some of you may be familiar with one of his more popular books, Where the Wild Things Are. In my research I found out that Pierre was originally published as part of set called The Nutshell Library, which included Alligators All Around, Chicken Soup with Rice, Pierre, and One Was Johnny. I've ordered a couple of used copies of Pierre . . . we'll see if any of them are the same printing as the one I received in the late 1970's. It's looked kind of like this, but paperback.

This week one of my Facebook friends sent me a request to take an interview. (This morning I passed the interview request on to many of you.) No offense to anyone who sends me requests, but I usually ignore about 90% of them (and I won't be offended if you ignore mine); however, I was bored and I decided to check this interview out. Basically I just answered questions . . . and more questions . . . and more questions. Many of the questions are goofy and easy to answer, but some are particularly poignant and surprisingly insightful.

For me, question #144 was: What motivates you?

I couldn't come up with an answer. Welp, that's enough of that quiz, I thought, and I moved on to my lil' green space (an equally great way to waste time). But it bugged me. Shouldn't it be easy to figure out what motivates me? And everytime I opened Facebook, the question taunted me the in the back of my mind . . . hahahaha, "What motivates you, Angela?"

Finally, on Thursday night, after a great time of fellowship and worship at The Gathering, I came home feeling pretty introspective and opened my computer with the intention of updating my blog and maybe posting some vacation pictures (which I still haven't done).

But, I'll just check Facebook real quick before I start blogging.

I couldn't help it. I opened Facebook and then the interview application and just stared at that question. "What motivates you?" I could think of all the things I wanted to say: Jesus, a personal sense of satisfaction, pleasing my parents, wanting to make the world a better place, etc. But I knew none of them would be true. And then I tried to trick myself. "Well, just put one of them down. It doesn't really matter how you answer a stupid question on a stupid Facebook interview. It doesn't have to be the truth."

But in a moment of transparency with myself I realized that the answer often is, “Fear of what will happen if I don’t do something.” For example, Why do I brush my teeth? I'm afraid I'll get gingivitis if I don't. Why do I drive the speed limit (most of the time)? I'm afraid I'll get a speeding ticket if I don't. Why am I honest? I'm afraid I'll be caught if I'm not. Why am I working to lose weight? Because I'm afraid of the health problems that will ensue if I don't. Why do I go to work? Because I'm afraid of being fired if I don't. Do you hear all the negativity here? Suddenly I remembered Pierre. And it hit me: I am motivated by the fear of being eaten by a lion. And evidently, this has been a lifelong habit, if at the tender age of 5 or 6 my kindergarten teacher already saw the pattern.

I've always been a procrastinator and now I think I kind of understand why.

If I'm motivating myself with fear of consequences, I'm not stirred to complete the task until the consequences are looming so large in my mind I can't avoid them (hence all the papers finished at the crack of dawn in college). I need to change the way I talk to myself. Why do I brush my teeth? Because I like the way my smile looks when my teeth are clean and white. Why do I drive the speed limit? Because it's a safe and responsible way to behave (okay, maybe that one's a stretch). Why am I honest? Because Jesus says it's the best way to live and I know from personal experience that it is. Why am I working to lose weight? Because I care about myself and want to treat my body well. Why do I go to work? Because I enjoy the sense of personal satisfaction when I work hard and do my job to the best of my ability.

I'm probably over-simplifying this, but I'm a bit overwhelmed with how this motivation issue affects all areas of my life.

I am motivated by the fear of being eaten by a lion. Thanks, Maurice Sendak.