Thursday, August 31, 2006

CSI: Church Seeks Imagination

Among my pet peeves are:

1. Slow drivers in the left lane. If you want to drive slowly, fine, but there is a special place for you: the right lane. (See Pet Peeve No. 2.)

2. Drivers driving at the same speeds in the right and left lanes, thereby preventing accelerated traffic. For goodness' sake, Person in the Left Lane (the fast lane), just drive 3 mph faster for 30 seconds and scoot over to the right lane so that the person on your tail can then scoot past your slow, self-absorbed, perhaps paranoid, self.

3. People who sashay two steps in front of the person behind them, and then look over their shoulder and see that they are only two steps in front of the person behind them, and then come upon a door and open that door and then allow it to close right in the face of the person behind them. "Oops, too bad for you that I'm a dumb loafer," the door-closer would think -- if he were capable of thinking.

4. People who talk while I'm trying to watch a new (emphasis on "new") episode on TV. If I'm watching a new episode, it would be because I want to watch the new episode, and if it's on TV, I can't simply rewind and rewatch. No, I don't have TiVo, but if the said episode is on DVD or has been recorded, the interrupter is allowed some leeway. Exceptions to the rule are emergencies and/or crises.

5. Overuse of exclamation points. An exception is made for the individual who knows better but uses the marks for literary or sarcastic effect. A person who merely thinks that exclamation points are cool appears ... very junior high!!!!!

6. Food fights, eating contests (aka Glorified Gluttony), Loud Eaters.

Finally, we come to this one, which is the worst offense:

We have church-related activities, groups and sermons that proudly don monikers like this: "Snakes in the Plane and in the Church." The creators think they are being very in-tune with pop culture and will attract the hip crowd. My church, which I love dearly and continues to be a blessing, does this all the time. So I realize there are good intentions behind a sermon series called "DreamWorks" or behind Vacation Bible Schools using the Survivor logo.

To get into the culture -- influence the culture -- Christians should be ahead of the trends and be innovative -- be a people whose talents the culture can appreciate, instead of appearing to be unthinking Xeroxes that bask in the shadows of Hollywood/Apple/TV.

Think ahead, and please, please, please quit being iRip-Offs and American Idles.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

What's "easy"?

Kyle and I were dating for maybe two weeks when I met his family. And by "family," I mean family. Family, as in: immediate family + extended family + friends who are like family. It was Thanksgiving. I'm not an outgoing person, and all of the aforementioned people are outgoing. Needless to say, I stayed in my comfortable shell and observed, and then doubted my personality.

Excuse me, God, can I trade this in for something more ... ESTP?

Anyway, when I went to my room one night, my self-esteem boost was Psalm 139. Reading about my fearfully made self reminded me that listeners and introverts are necessary to maintain some kind of order in this world. I felt content, peaceful and, well, loved.

The problem with maintaining this sense of contentment is that it requires me to sloooow down. Take a breather. Spend some time with my brain; figure out what's going on in there. This is when I feel closer to God, like he's giving me a hug. Some people feel refreshed staring at, like, mountains. Not the case for me. I learn more about my creator when I decide to face this me that he created.

Like I said, the problem with this routine is the slowing-down part. Taking a breather. Not cleaning or checking my e-mail compulsively or clipping bridal hairstyles out of Martha Stewart Weddings.

And, despite the fact that running 3 or 4 miles no longer makes me want to cut off my big toes, running is difficult because it forces me to slow down. Slowing down in the sense that I have to clear my mind, stare at nothing but a road or 5-year-olds playing soccer, and put up with myself. I get impatient.

Regardless, I ran this evening.

Just let me enjoy running, pleeeaaasse.

Finally, I just ran. And thought. I enjoyed being, and it was good.

'Refinement, please' or 'My Name's Matte'

My URL is quite clever, I thought. I told someone I thought it was a hoot. I thought, "Oh, tadpolish! I'm one-fourth Polish, and I'm still a free-swimming youngster with a lot of growth left in me." And I thought about all the areas in which I DO need growth -- like spiritually, emotionally, relationally, mentally -- and how being tadpole-ish is a declaration of humility and whimsy. Plus, when I was a little girl, I loved catching tadpoles, hoping they'd grow into big frogs.

(Sad moment: I had about as much luck with that as when I'd put fireflies into a jar to make a lantern or when I "saved" the baby Mr. T. turtle a few months ago.)

Then, last night, I looked at the genius URL again and saw this: tad polish. Note the lowercase "polish." It's a "polish," like "pawlish," like the stuff you use to make your shoes sparkle. I use polish to make my toes the color of My Chihuahua Bites by OPI. Some people polish their teeth. Others might say that my manners need polished, and as a copy editor I polish newspaper articles. That polish is NOT what I intended.

On the bright side, where I make lemonade out of lemons and stew out of leftovers: Maybe I do need to be a bit polished myself, and maybe this name isn't so bad after all. Maybe we all need to be a little more polished, a little more refined. So I guess I can go with "tad polish," which is clever in its construction since, if I am trying to say that I need to be a tad polished, then the name itself needs to be a bit polished since "tad polish" should really be "tad polished." There, that makes perfect sense.

I might need to be sophisticated, but I refuse to be glossy.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

When time stalls

The men's bathroom is about, I don't know, 40 feet to my right. Sometimes when I glance over my shoulder, the door to the bathroom is open, and I see a man standing at the sink washing his hands. Sometimes the said man will turn around at that exact moment to walk out the door, and he sees me, and our eyes meet, dragging out this split-second moment into what seems like a lifetime of embarrassing agony for myself. I mean, I don't know what to do when this happens. I'd like to tell him that I was merely glancing around out of boredom, that they need to move the sinks from right in front of the doorway. Instead, we share a grossly intimate moment traced with furtive glances, and I'm the creepy copy-desk youngster.

So, bathroom-makers of the world, do me a favor and stick bathrooms into little office crannies and make them with entrances/exits that have little corridors so outsiders can't look in. Thanks.