the gimp

I am a little annoyed.

I tore my MCL (medial-collateral-ligament) in my knee on Saturday playing indoor soccer (incidently, the first game of real soccer I’ve ever played in my entire life), when Chick From The Other Team and I decided to both kick the ball at the same time… only she evidently kicked harder, cause it knocked my knee out of joint.

This is actually not as fun as it must sound.

My crutches and knee brace and I are all bonding quite nicely now, as we hobble down the stairs of my apartment, and try very ungracefully to get into cars.  (YOU try getting into the seat of a car with your leg completely straight).  I have an MRI today, and I’ll find out in a few days if the darn thing requires surgery, which the doc yesterday seemed to think was a pretty good possibility when he took my knee and bent it in a way I don’t think it’s supposed to go.  I mean, I’m no doctor, but crap, man!

Sick.

No more soccer for me!  (Or anything at all for now, actually)…

good news/bad news

Bad news: no hirey-hirey for the visual comm position over at First Pres.  (No job for you!)

Good news: I get to stay with my roommate Amanda longer!  (She just finished out her school year teaching across the water and is actually home now… it’s SO nice having her around!)  And, I get to hang out with my friends and play soccer and softball and all that junk all summer!

Better news: part of the reason I didn’t get the vis comm job is that it would prevent me from being able to lead worship, and they want me to keep using my gifts in that area.  They’re not idiots – they know it would eventually kill me not to be able to do that…  So they’re probably going to be considering me for other positions that would still allow me to pursue that passion.  And they seem to want me there, so there’s hope still.  I’ll know by the end of July.  In the meantime, I’m all set for enjoying my summer!

I think this might be one of those God moments when he’s like, Ah… you think you have it planned out so good… but wait, I’ve got something even better up my sleeve… sneaky sneaky…   

I like that the good news far outweighed the bad.  God has given me peace.  We’ll see.  (that seems to be a running theme…)

sitting, waiting, wishing…

It’s early Friday morning, I’m awake, and I really shouldn’t be.

I should hear sometime today (hopefully, if First Pres has any mercy on my soul whatsoever) news of whether or not I am getting the communication position there.  The suspense is killing me… prospects of me getting this job seem to be good, but there are a thousand what-ifs running wild through my brain.

OK back to my tossing and turning for a bit before I have to get up and report to my cubicle…

thought for the day

You really can’t beat a blind date where you end up sitting row 1, seat 1, section 119 (behind first base) at Safeco Field.  It was RAD.

Especially given that on the way into the Safe, he said we were going to be in the nosebleed section, and I declared that I didn’t care, I was just happy to be at the game.  (Points for me). 

Happy Tuesday, everybody. 

Happy Birthday Mom! Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

Love you both… so much.  Hope the day’s a happy one.  And hey, it’s actually SUNNY out!

A whole new way that I am a loser…

In perfect cadence with my never-ending march of bad luck… I, Stacey Rich, have been cut from a blog contest.  Augh!  The humanity!

The verdict:

“To be perfectly honest, your feed never provided me with any of your updated posts. Either it’s the blogs.com service or it’s Bloglines. Either way, none of it got through. I went back and read the last 10 entries anyways and while they obviously show your personality, I’m a bit of an information fiend, and they didn’t provide me with something I didn’t already know.”

This Guy doesn’t think I’m very original.  I’m inclined to agree with him, but there’s that part of me that wants to say, “But I wasn’t trying to be a good writer these last few months (if indeed a writer is what I should ever call myself)!  I was attempting to stay sane during a quite long season of, well, total crap.  Please, please, visit this post, or maybe this one, and you will TOTALLY change your tune, mister.  I am nothing if not a serious and disciplined wordsmith.”

[I'm not exactly sure I'm original even when I'm trying, so it's kind of a moot point.  (It's like a cow's opinion.  It's moo.  Doesn't matter).]

I am tossing the following ideas around, in the interests of making my blog more palatable/keeping it around for the amusement and edification of generations of bored cubicle-ridden blog-addicts yet to come:

• writing a bio for my as-of-yet unpublished book, asking for the honest opinions of my loyal readership
• searching for that one thing that hasn’t already been blogged about, and being the first to blog about it (my double-jointed elbows are a topic worthy of serious consideration)
• posts in pig latin
• transcribing entire Friends episodes (who doesn’t like that idea?)
• random-association poetry (oh, wait.  Been done.  Dang!)
• revealing pictures of a certain brother with chili-puke on his face (also been done.  But I’ll never tell where)…
• Hawaiian shirt day 

It still was a little sad to find out I’d been in a contest, only to subsequently find that I’d been cut.  It’s SO me.

So, Jeremy-God-of-Blogdom, of Ensight.org fame, thanks for not makin’ my day.  (And for the record, this is all in good fun, ’cause I found it more amusing than anything). 

filling my ears, filling my heart

I accept your baton-pass, Myles Werntz.  A week late, perhaps, but it’s no matter.

AMOUNT OF MUSIC ON MY COMPUTER:

4.13 GB.  Or, 152 hours, 1 minute, 25 seconds.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO:

Jagged Little Pill (Acoustic) — Alanis Morissette… Has it been ten years already?  I popped this into the car stereo, and all the words come right back.  Crazy.  Love it.

FIVE SONGS THAT MEAN A LOT TO ME (In no particular order):

1.  Darkest Hour — Glen Phillips

If I lose my faith
Just remind me, just remind me
When my shadow’s longer
Stay beside me till it’s brighter
How easily I forget
How beautiful to see it once again

In my darkest hour I will be freed…

This song (a random Napster download) was playing on my stereo when I finally quit trying to play superhero following my accident… when I finally admitted I felt like hell, was exhausted of all effort, and wasn’t quite sure why God would allow such miserable pain day and night.  All alone in my small apartment, I laid my right cheek on the top of my desk and cried and sobbed and shook for the better part of an hour.  I have never forgotten this moment of desperation, of not knowing if I could hold on to faith, yet hoping and praying that it could hold on to me.  This song brings me back to it every time I hear it.

2.  Stay or Leave — Dave Matthews

Stay or leave

I want you not to go

But you should

It was good as good goes

Stay or leave

I want you not to go

But you did…

I heard this song for the first time on my last date with Jeremy.  Both fairly quiet all evening, we sang along with it together in the darkness of his Jeep as we drove to a Japanese restaurant.  I heard it again a month later after I’d bought the album, and chuckled at the words’ painful accuracy, slightly ahead of schedule.   It articulated the ache at a time I needed it to.  It haunts me a bit still.  Now I enjoy it on its own terms – it’s a lovely melancholy song, and those are always my favorite – but it always takes a piece of me back to that night.

3.  The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face — Johnny Cash

The first time ever I saw your face

I thought the sun rose in your eyes

And the moon and the stars

Were the gifts you gave to the dark and the endless sky, my love

No real reason, other than that it’s a simple love song, sung by Johnny Cash, and I think of him and June, and how sweet they were up til the end.  I don’t think I need another reason.

4.  Small Enough — Nichole Nordeman 

Oh, Great God

Be small enough to hear me now…

There were times when I was crying from the dark of Daniel’s den

And I have asked you once or twice if you would part the sea again

But tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky

Just want to know you’re gonna hold me if I start to cry

Oh Great God

Be small enough to hear me now…

There have been a few different occasions when I was too distraught to pray that I turned off all the lights, put this song on repeat, and let myself pray the words of this song.  Somehow it connects all the stuff I learned in Sunday School to a very personal God, which for me, has not always been easy.  Nichole Nordeman is one of the only Christian artists that speaks to me… most of her songs have a questioning element to them, a struggle to believe paired at the same time with a strong desire to believe.  Listening to all three of her albums, I wonder if she took material directly from my thoughts — I feel like someone else “gets it”.  I love her for this.

5.  Come Away with Me — Norah Jones  Assuming I get married at some point, which my mother and grandma both assure me could actually happen before I’m thirty… I want to dance to this at my wedding. 

6.  (who’s keeping count?) Be Mine — David Gray  I absolutely love this song.  And can’t wait for someone to feel this way about me.  Yes, yes, I am a sentimental freak show. 

From the very first moment I saw you
That’s when I knew
All the dreams I held in my heart
Had suddenly come true
Knock me over stone cold sober
Not a thing I could say or do
Cause baby when I’m walking with you now
My eyes are so wide
Like you reached right into my head
And turned on the light inside
Turning on the light
Inside my mind… yea…Come on baby it’s all right
Sunday Monday, day or night
Written blue on white it’s plain to see
Be mine, be mine!
Rainy shiny, night or day
What’s the difference anyway
Honey till your heart belongs to me

If I had some influence girl
With the powers that be
I’d have them fire that arrow at you
Like they fired it right at me
Maybe when your heart and soul are burning
You might see
That everytime I’m talking with you
It’s always over too soon
That everyday feels so incomplete
Till you walk into the room
Say the word now girl
I’ll jump that moon… yea…

Come on baby it’s OK
Rainy shiny, night or day
There’s nothing in the way now
Don’t you see
Be mine, be mine!
Winter summer, day or night
Centigrade or Fahrenheit
Baby till your heart belongs to me
Be Mine, Be Mine
Thursday Friday, short or long
When you got a love so strong
How can it be wrong now mercy me
Be Mine, Be Mine
Jumpin’ Jesus holy cow!
What’s the difference anyhow
Baby till your heart belongs to me

FIVE (OR SO) FAVE ALBUMS:  They earn this distinction once I’ve listened to a CD about ten bajillion times.

How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb — U2  If there was any doubt in my mind, the concert (smug grin) sealed it for me.  I love every song on this album.

Room for Squares — John Mayer

Twentysomething — Jamie Cullum

A Rush of Blood to the Head — Coldplay (I’m just now listening to the sequel)

Jars of Clay — Jars of Clay (I’m sorry, I just love this first album.  It was

awesome).

Everything Dave ever did, and everything Sarah ever did.

shame

[I found some words.]

As Americans, I think we are only capable of lucid thought once in a very great while, especially as it relates to the condition of the rest of the world. It takes a great deal to shake us free from our stupor, to stir us from the cozy comfort of our willing ignorance.

At least, I know this is the case with me. I am first among the guilty.

Of course, this will at some point pass, and I’ll no doubt insulate myself again soon by retreating back into normal routine… so I’ll use this moment of near-consciousness to speak.

It is frustrating that I know more about the spawn of the Federline-Spears union than I do about genocide in the Sudan. It’s sad that Brad Pitt has to sit down for an interview with Diane Sawyer and be grilled on his relationship with Angelina Jolie before he can get the cameras to turn to poverty and hunger in Africa. Bono has to get behind a push to ask our reluctant President to send more aid and help cancel third-world debt before it finally garners our attention.

We don’t care until famous people do. We also don’t care until it’s cool.

(Looking at the vast majority of the famous people we worship, and considering what we think is cool, this is deeply troubling. Don’t even get me started on what we call “reality” TV).

As much as watching Hotel Rwanda messed me up, it was this realization that disturbed me more: I don’t remember it. At all. Granted, in 1994 I was fourteen years old, just beginning my sophomore year of high school. Still, you’d think I would remember 800,000 Rwandans dying by machete in the course of just over three months.

You would think.

Here I am in 2005. The same thing is happening, and I am no more informed than I was eleven years ago.

The reasons for the conflict may be different, the region may be different – but men, women, and children are tortured and dying in mass quantities in Darfur, and it doesn’t even make the news. It’s barely even registers as a blip on the screen. (A story of mass death and destruction isn’t exactly a huge money-maker, unless, of course, it happens to be an epic thriller starring Tom Cruise. By the way, does anyone know if our favorite mid-life crisis has proposed to Katie Holmes yet? I simply must know).

I am ignorant by default in many ways. I may rail about the lack of world-perspective in the media, but their simple response is that they feed us what we want, and it’s hard to dispute it. Who really wants to see bloodied women and children in Darfur – and of all things, during dinner-time? Please. Give me the latest Lindsay Lohan feud any day over warring factions in the desert half a world away.

The difficult truth is, there is a lack of world-perspective in the media I choose. I am no longer fourteen years old. I choose what I give my time and resources to. The choice to use mainstream American media as my sole source of information may be a default decision on my part, but it is a choice nonetheless. I may be unconscious, but I choose to be.

I sit here aware that my choices must change. For me, there is no justification for insulating myself against this kind of human suffering.

One scene in Hotel Rwanda will stick with me for a long time. The main character, Paul, was talking to the refugees sequestered in his hotel. All non-Rwandans had been evacuated. There was no one – no one – to protect them from the slaughter. With few exceptions, the rest of the world simply watched, while folks debated on whether the word “genocide” was appropriate or not for the occasion. (Just like now, actually).

To get help from those outside, specifically from the West, he said, “You must shame them into helping.”

Consider me shamed. Ashamed of my ignorance, ashamed of my ingratitude, ashamed of the wealth I take for granted. Ashamed that I don’t know how to help, only how to type. Ashamed that the concern I now feel may recede right back into indifference once these painful images have faded from my mind. Ashamed that the cries of “the least of these” so often fall on deaf ears.

Please, take a moment to be shamed. Take a moment to see where you could play a small part.

www.savedarfur.org

www.darfurgenocide.org

www.one.org

no words

HOTEL RWANDA.  Watch it.  ‘Nuff said.

quick update

hey dudes.

is it Sunday already?  wow.  weekend has flown by.

I’m doing the music for a Baccalaureate (sp?) in a few hours with my friend Amy, so all I’ve got time for is bullet form.  (I got a friendly concerned email wondering about the lack of posts, so I figured I’d better update!)

• FINALLY did the interview at First Pres (four people interviewing me for an hour!  FREAKY!)  Felt like it went pretty well.  Have to wait about three weeks to find out whether or not I got the job.  Been waiting nearly four months, another few weeks won’t kill me.  I assume that this is God’s way of teaching me patience.  I wish he’d hurry the lesson up… lol.
• If not, there’s another place (loan job) that wants to hire me.  Pretty sweet.  Also a waiting game.  Although I want the church job pretty badly, I’m ok with whatever happens.
• I’ve been working out three times a week for the past two weeks (up from my average of once a week), in addition to the Race for the Cure last Saturday.  I feel really good.  And more confident (there’s no real change, but when I’m working out, I feel like I’m hot stuff).  This is the first summer post-accident that injuries haven’t been really haunting me, so I’m taking full advantage of it.
• Things with my boss got worked out (i.e. no cut in hours, he’d like to keep me if the other stuff doesn’t work out), and if/when I leave, it will now be on a good note, which was really important to me.
• Got my car back from the shop, and although it was pricey, it wasn’t as pricey as it could have been, so I’m relieved.  Me and The Beast still have some miles yet to travel, apparently.
• My crushed pinky is now near-normal.
• After a year and three months of (accidentally) blessing me with free cable (God WANTED me to have it)… the cable company “took care of the glitch.”  I am sad in my heart.  Movies it is, then.

It’s nice now that the interviews for both jobs are done/my Newlife project is done.  I’m completely non-stressed, which I’m enjoying.  I’m a bit impatient to know where my life’s headed (whether I need to begin packing?), but I’ve now done everything within my power to knock on doors… now I just wait to see which one opens.  It feels good to know I won’t have to wonder what could’ve happened if I’d had the courage to simply knock. 

We’ll see what happens… in the meantime, I’m just glad to be feeling a whole lot more like myself these days.

Have a great week!