I run Paul's shop in the Short North Arts District of Columbus. It's great- very urban, hip, happenin' (do people still say that?)...always something going on. It is a wonderful mix of the most colorful additions to our society. One of these additions is My Homeless Guy, Leslie.
I adopted Leslie as My Homeless Guy a few days after I took over at the shop in March. Or, should I say, he adopted me as his "Little Candle Shop Girl" about the same time. He is a large man, with a forever smiling face and bright happy eyes. He usually wears a tan long-sleeved shirt, dark brown slacks and carries a mysterious black duffel bag that appears to be perpetually empty. He is terribly paranoid, though, and is endlessly warning me of this guy or that gang...he promises me every day he's going to teach me Kung Fu. And he would want me to mention that his favorite movie is King Kong. It must have been the most amazing thing that has ever happened to him, because he can recite entire scenes of the movie and describe in detail how he was feeling during them. Someone gave him a free ticket a few months back. He's seen it once.
Every morning, he waits at the bus stop in front of the shop door quietly until I arrive. (I like to imagine he's waiting for something monumental...Godot, perhaps?) After I open the shop, he approaches the door with a smile just for me, flinging it open with abandon, once again knocking down the easel and sign just inside the door. I rush to catch it before it rains glass and wax, and just quietly say "Careful, Leslie."
He apologizes, and says "Hey, there, beautiful. You still married?" I say yes and ask him how he's doing. He proceeds to warn me about the gang du jour and offers again to teach me how to fend them off. "All you have to do is call me, Little Candle Shop Girl, and I'll get 'em for you." I thank him and he asks me if I've seen King Kong, and goes on to explain his favorite scene (the T-Rex/Kong fight, naturally). He backs out of the door after just a few minutes, says "You be careful, dear. I want to see you tomorrow." And he's gone.
Every morning, it's the same thing. For the first few weeks, I was annoyed. I was terrified that a customer was going to come in, or that he was going to get in the way of orders I was rushing to get out...or worse, scare someone off or break something. I tried ignorning him, but his dancing eyes and rosy smile were hard to overlook. Then a few weeks ago, I was reminded of a childhood parable...Jesus could be anyone. "I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."
So I started forcing myself to see him differently, and after a while, it wasn't so hard. Now, every day as he leaves me with that toothy grin and sparkling eyes, I think, "There goes Jesus." And I look forward to tomorrow, because I get to see Him, in the flesh, every day.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Going Out of My Head...I mean, ...Way...
As many of you know, Nick and I have been teaching a Young Marrieds Adult Sunday School class at our church. Many of our discussions have touched on "love" being an action word. We have also stressed the importance of exactly how we show love to coworkers, friends, and aquaintences. And because it's sort of odd to talk about "loving" the creep in the next cubicle (holla, Bethany!), we redefined it as "caring" about said person.
But I realized the other day, with help from my dear friend Jessie, that the easiest way for most people to feel they are loved is to see that someone has gone out of their way to care for them. This can include a physical "going out of their way," in the sense that they had to relocate themselves in order to be near you or to do something for you, or to mentally "go out of their way" to actively listen to someone or interact in a discussion with you.
At first, this seemed too simple, but then I thought about the times I have felt loved by my friends, and each of these times included people "going out of their way" for me. And, on the flip side, the times I have felt unloved are times when people are "too busy" to help, or have ignored me for a time. And I have found that the easiest way to fix this is to actively go out of my way for that person.
So go out of your way for someone- it might fix a long standing rivalry or disagreement, or just reconnect you with someone, or merely show someone you see every day that you care. And it's always good to give people a little glimmer of love.
But I realized the other day, with help from my dear friend Jessie, that the easiest way for most people to feel they are loved is to see that someone has gone out of their way to care for them. This can include a physical "going out of their way," in the sense that they had to relocate themselves in order to be near you or to do something for you, or to mentally "go out of their way" to actively listen to someone or interact in a discussion with you.
At first, this seemed too simple, but then I thought about the times I have felt loved by my friends, and each of these times included people "going out of their way" for me. And, on the flip side, the times I have felt unloved are times when people are "too busy" to help, or have ignored me for a time. And I have found that the easiest way to fix this is to actively go out of my way for that person.
So go out of your way for someone- it might fix a long standing rivalry or disagreement, or just reconnect you with someone, or merely show someone you see every day that you care. And it's always good to give people a little glimmer of love.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Black Holes
For fear of sounding preachy, I'm going to go light on the spiritual implications of this topic. But ever since I graduated from college in 2001, I have been on a search to fill the black holes of my life. These are people with whom I was very close at one time, yet currently have no contact. I suspect every one of us has a number of these holes in their past.
For a comparitively short life, I feel like I have entirely too many black holes. This has a lot to do with two major personality flaws:
1. I expect a lot of myself, and, therefore, expect a lot of other people. I am disappointed easily.
2. I am frightfully loyal - to a fault -, but one disloyal act by someone can cause me to break all ties.
I have made contact with a number of my black holes...an old boyfriend, my high school best friend, a college friend...and each experience has been overwhelmingly positive. There are still some left, though. And there isn't a day that goes by that I wish they were filled.
So I'm still trying- but one of the biggies, a roomate from college, still alludes me. We are two of the most incompatable people on earth, for no other reason than we both think our history/family/worldview is better/smarter/cooler than the other. What amazes me about it, though, is that we both think we're entirely right. And justified! As if it were some deep-seeded family battle fought long ago, we have become characters to one another, larger than life and more terrible than reality. And we have our friends and families on our sides for backup. Hilarious.
Like fine wine, I suspect time has matured us both, and we may be able to actually have a reasonable conversation. But perhaps not.
So, I'm gearing up for the next black hole destruction. We'll see who it will be. But I'm ready, and I'm way too young to have so many holes in my past.
For a comparitively short life, I feel like I have entirely too many black holes. This has a lot to do with two major personality flaws:
1. I expect a lot of myself, and, therefore, expect a lot of other people. I am disappointed easily.
2. I am frightfully loyal - to a fault -, but one disloyal act by someone can cause me to break all ties.
I have made contact with a number of my black holes...an old boyfriend, my high school best friend, a college friend...and each experience has been overwhelmingly positive. There are still some left, though. And there isn't a day that goes by that I wish they were filled.
So I'm still trying- but one of the biggies, a roomate from college, still alludes me. We are two of the most incompatable people on earth, for no other reason than we both think our history/family/worldview is better/smarter/cooler than the other. What amazes me about it, though, is that we both think we're entirely right. And justified! As if it were some deep-seeded family battle fought long ago, we have become characters to one another, larger than life and more terrible than reality. And we have our friends and families on our sides for backup. Hilarious.
Like fine wine, I suspect time has matured us both, and we may be able to actually have a reasonable conversation. But perhaps not.
So, I'm gearing up for the next black hole destruction. We'll see who it will be. But I'm ready, and I'm way too young to have so many holes in my past.
Friday, August 18, 2006
The Power of "Who?"
What makes a celebrity? Anyone who has been on a theatre trip to London comes back with countless stories of sitting behind Sir Ian McKellen, shaking hands with Patrick Stewart, or brushing shoulders with Alan Rickman. Just between Nick and I and our 4 or 5 collective trips to the UK, we have 20+ stories of brushes with "greatness." As I write, our friend Christina is in London meeting with other theatre greats for her dissertation over fish and chips. Celebrity is different there than here.
In London, these untouchables live amongst the "normal people" of the city. They take in a play, go to the movies, eat at Wagamama... Not so in the States (this is just one of the major cultural problems I have with this country...I often wonder if it would have been THAT bad if the colonies lost the war...I LIKE tea!). In fact, Americans build celebrities up to the point where commoners cannot even grasp how these gods could actually BUY GROCERIES themselves, or PUMP GAS, or even CHANGE THEIR KID'S DIAPER. Let's take a picture to prove it! And then sell it to a magazine. Then buy that magazine for $4.
But one man's celebrity is another man's "Who?" One of my all-time favorite actors is a man named Mark Rylance. Nick has met him a few times, and we have seen him in a number of shows. I won't wax poetic about him here, but suffice it to say that he is one of the most fantastic and moving actors of our lifetime, and a pivotal cog in the wheel of theatre history, yet he is many people's "Who?". This doesn't make people any less cultured, or in-the-know, there are just different circles. (Pretty much any sports figure is a "Who?" for me.)
The point, besides the fact that I'm obsessed with a 45 year old British man, is that we all have our celebrities- those people we look up to, admire, emulate. And we think, if we were to ever meet them, they would see in us the true silent respect we have for them...not the hysterical obsession of their other crazed fans. Because we're more composed, better at presenting ourselves, and we're their greatest fan! And maybe they'll see that and give us tons of money for being their respectful admirer.
Is celebrity contagious? Most of us, deep down, think so...or at least, hope so.
I don't think I ever could meet Mark. (The closest I have ever gotten is documented here - First picture, Beth thinks she's sneaky paparazzi before a show. Second picture, OH DEAR GOD HE'S SMILING AT ME! PUT THE CAMERA AWAY!!! BREATHE! BREATHE!!)
If I ever were to meet him face to face, and I haven't yet, I would probably pass out. My palms are sweating just thinking of this possibility. I know myself enough to know that, even though I have the utmost admiration for him, I would come off an absolute blathering idiot and probably make a fool of myself. So I shall admire him from across the pond, secretly hoping one day he finds out about me, flies to Columbus, asks me to direct him in Beckett's "Play" as Man and I become wildly famous! Well, I can dream...
In London, these untouchables live amongst the "normal people" of the city. They take in a play, go to the movies, eat at Wagamama... Not so in the States (this is just one of the major cultural problems I have with this country...I often wonder if it would have been THAT bad if the colonies lost the war...I LIKE tea!). In fact, Americans build celebrities up to the point where commoners cannot even grasp how these gods could actually BUY GROCERIES themselves, or PUMP GAS, or even CHANGE THEIR KID'S DIAPER. Let's take a picture to prove it! And then sell it to a magazine. Then buy that magazine for $4.
But one man's celebrity is another man's "Who?" One of my all-time favorite actors is a man named Mark Rylance. Nick has met him a few times, and we have seen him in a number of shows. I won't wax poetic about him here, but suffice it to say that he is one of the most fantastic and moving actors of our lifetime, and a pivotal cog in the wheel of theatre history, yet he is many people's "Who?". This doesn't make people any less cultured, or in-the-know, there are just different circles. (Pretty much any sports figure is a "Who?" for me.)
The point, besides the fact that I'm obsessed with a 45 year old British man, is that we all have our celebrities- those people we look up to, admire, emulate. And we think, if we were to ever meet them, they would see in us the true silent respect we have for them...not the hysterical obsession of their other crazed fans. Because we're more composed, better at presenting ourselves, and we're their greatest fan! And maybe they'll see that and give us tons of money for being their respectful admirer.
Is celebrity contagious? Most of us, deep down, think so...or at least, hope so.
I don't think I ever could meet Mark. (The closest I have ever gotten is documented here - First picture, Beth thinks she's sneaky paparazzi before a show. Second picture, OH DEAR GOD HE'S SMILING AT ME! PUT THE CAMERA AWAY!!! BREATHE! BREATHE!!)
If I ever were to meet him face to face, and I haven't yet, I would probably pass out. My palms are sweating just thinking of this possibility. I know myself enough to know that, even though I have the utmost admiration for him, I would come off an absolute blathering idiot and probably make a fool of myself. So I shall admire him from across the pond, secretly hoping one day he finds out about me, flies to Columbus, asks me to direct him in Beckett's "Play" as Man and I become wildly famous! Well, I can dream...
Monday, August 14, 2006
What is the deal with... women and compliments...?
Do you ever have those moments when you realize that you are the material for comedic fodder? I heard a comedian do a bit on this topic the other day. As I was laughing, I slowly realized that she was describing me. Her main point was that when women receive a compliment, they do one of two things: 1. Dodge/Deny it or 2. Reveal something embarassing about themselves. (And this does tend to be women, I've noticed, far more than men.) She cited various examples, specifically "Wow, I love your dress!" "Oh, I got it for $2 at Goodwill..." and "Have you lost weight?" "My doctor says I have a disease." And there are various other ways of deflection, such as a girl I knew a while back who would turn it back around on you, such as "Your hair looks great today!" "YOUR hair looks great today!" or "I love that dress." "I love YOUR dress!" This is a annoyingly bad habit I picked up as well- I'm trying to quit.
I have only met one woman who receives compliments beautifully. I am always so impressed with how humbly she takes them, making sure to say thank you and being truly proud, but not egotisitical, of her achievements. I love giving her compliments.
My question is this: Why is this so true? It can't honestly be that every woman in America has THAT bad of self-esteem or gets embarassed that quickly, or can it?
I've been trying to get better at receiving compliments. The first thing, I've realized, is looking people in the eye and just saying an honest "Thanks!" Any further information borders on either deflection or embellishment, so I proceed with caution. i.e., A woman this morning at Life Time complimented my eye color (immediately after typing that, I wanted to add an adjective before eye color such as "freaky" or "fake-looking"...but I didn't...aren't you proud?). This caused a problem, because it made me even more wary of looking her in the eye, but I did...and just said "Thanks!" Of course, this small success comes after a long line of failures over the past few weeks... :) But a success nonetheless!
Anyway, I challenge you this week, as I am challenging myself, to take a compliment well. (Not to mention, give compliments liberally...which is a whole other post!) I am going to work on it...
I have only met one woman who receives compliments beautifully. I am always so impressed with how humbly she takes them, making sure to say thank you and being truly proud, but not egotisitical, of her achievements. I love giving her compliments.
My question is this: Why is this so true? It can't honestly be that every woman in America has THAT bad of self-esteem or gets embarassed that quickly, or can it?
I've been trying to get better at receiving compliments. The first thing, I've realized, is looking people in the eye and just saying an honest "Thanks!" Any further information borders on either deflection or embellishment, so I proceed with caution. i.e., A woman this morning at Life Time complimented my eye color (immediately after typing that, I wanted to add an adjective before eye color such as "freaky" or "fake-looking"...but I didn't...aren't you proud?). This caused a problem, because it made me even more wary of looking her in the eye, but I did...and just said "Thanks!" Of course, this small success comes after a long line of failures over the past few weeks... :) But a success nonetheless!
Anyway, I challenge you this week, as I am challenging myself, to take a compliment well. (Not to mention, give compliments liberally...which is a whole other post!) I am going to work on it...
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Bartender, Give Me 2 Hits of the Snooze Button
I am not a morning person. In fact, it doesn't matter how early I go to bed, how well I've slept, or how rested I feel after my shower. Getting up...actually WAKING up...is just the most difficult thing for me. It always has been, and I thought it was going to get better as I got older because my parents get up at 3 AM or whatever every day and they seem fine with it! (We won't discuss the fact that they go to bed at 9:30 every night! :) Love you, Mom and Dad!) This Summer, I have moved my workouts to before work, which means a 6 AM wake-up time, 5 days a week. For most of you this is normal, and I commend you. For me, however, this was the challenge of a LIFE TIME. (Pun intended, but you can't make me like it.)
I also get very dramatic (I know, you're all SHOCKED!) in the morning, and tend to proclaim ridiculous grandiose absolutes within the first 15 minutes of being up. A small sampling:
"I HATE STUPID BREAKFAST!"
"I am going to sleep all day on Saturday and Sunday!"
"I am never staying up to watch the Daily Show AGAIN!"
"I'm going to come home from work and take a 4 hour nap!"
"I am going to bed at 6 PM tonight!"
"I'm going back to bed- call in to work for me."
"I'm quitting my job."
I have yet to follow through on ANY of these promises, nor, as I said, do I really want to. I really feel badly for Nick, all sweet and kind in the morning, happy to get up and start the day...except for the fact that the duty has fallen to him to get me up. Poor thing. I don't hear the alarm, no matter how loud or annoying, so he has to wake me up. And that's a true feat for anyone to conquer.
Especially the other day, when I was 150% CONVINCED that it was Sunday morning. I was SO confused that Nick was trying to wake me up so early, and actually started getting angry at him and rolled away from him, burying my face in the pillow. Snooze Button. The alarm went off again, and he tried to wake me up. I said, "NO!" and I shove my head under the pillow. Snooze Button. Finally he said, "Beth, you have to go to work today" and I was like, WHAT THE HECK, IT'S FREAKING SUNDAY! But it wasn't. It was Wednesday. And 15 minutes later I was fine with it.
*****This post made possible by a fabulously large snooze button and my sweet husband's determination to kick me the heck out of bed. (Thanks, Sweetie!)*****
I also get very dramatic (I know, you're all SHOCKED!) in the morning, and tend to proclaim ridiculous grandiose absolutes within the first 15 minutes of being up. A small sampling:
"I HATE STUPID BREAKFAST!"
"I am going to sleep all day on Saturday and Sunday!"
"I am never staying up to watch the Daily Show AGAIN!"
"I'm going to come home from work and take a 4 hour nap!"
"I am going to bed at 6 PM tonight!"
"I'm going back to bed- call in to work for me."
"I'm quitting my job."
I have yet to follow through on ANY of these promises, nor, as I said, do I really want to. I really feel badly for Nick, all sweet and kind in the morning, happy to get up and start the day...except for the fact that the duty has fallen to him to get me up. Poor thing. I don't hear the alarm, no matter how loud or annoying, so he has to wake me up. And that's a true feat for anyone to conquer.
Especially the other day, when I was 150% CONVINCED that it was Sunday morning. I was SO confused that Nick was trying to wake me up so early, and actually started getting angry at him and rolled away from him, burying my face in the pillow. Snooze Button. The alarm went off again, and he tried to wake me up. I said, "NO!" and I shove my head under the pillow. Snooze Button. Finally he said, "Beth, you have to go to work today" and I was like, WHAT THE HECK, IT'S FREAKING SUNDAY! But it wasn't. It was Wednesday. And 15 minutes later I was fine with it.
*****This post made possible by a fabulously large snooze button and my sweet husband's determination to kick me the heck out of bed. (Thanks, Sweetie!)*****
Monday, August 07, 2006
Easy as Contacts - Options - #1 - OK
We got new phones! I had my heart set on that sexy little pink RAZR number, but unfortunately, the Verizon version has received less-than-favorable reviews...so here we are with our brand-new LGs. AND I will have you know, I sprung for the hot little bluetooth earpiece! Now I too will join the ranks of seemingly schizophrenic citizens talking to themselves in public. Awesome.
Of course, the obvious downside of switching phones is having to retype the contacts into the new one...yes, I know we can pay the $19.99 and Verizon will do it for us, but I enjoy this biannual ritual. I opened the list in my old phone, which almost immediately looks antiquated (how could I have LIVED without animation, mp3s and mobile web?!?!), and started with the top name, Abbey.
I continued down the list, alphabetically, and realized with a rush that all I had to do would be not transfer a name from one phone to another to all but delete them from my circle of communication. Immediately a call from those forgone contacts would come up as unrecognized. For a person who demands having immediate answers at her fingertips, deletion is not an option...but still, some contacts didn't make it to my new phone.
It is frightening on many levels the control we now have over the people with which we communicate...I only know a small handful of phone numbers by heart, and most of those are childhood contacts...none of which I call on a daily basis. If they're not in my phone, I not only won't call them...but I CAN'T call them. Scary.
I am going to make it a point this month to call each of the people in my contacts list at least once, because if I have this much control over my circle of communication, I can't blame anyone else for lapses in connection but myself.
Of course, the obvious downside of switching phones is having to retype the contacts into the new one...yes, I know we can pay the $19.99 and Verizon will do it for us, but I enjoy this biannual ritual. I opened the list in my old phone, which almost immediately looks antiquated (how could I have LIVED without animation, mp3s and mobile web?!?!), and started with the top name, Abbey.
I continued down the list, alphabetically, and realized with a rush that all I had to do would be not transfer a name from one phone to another to all but delete them from my circle of communication. Immediately a call from those forgone contacts would come up as unrecognized. For a person who demands having immediate answers at her fingertips, deletion is not an option...but still, some contacts didn't make it to my new phone.
It is frightening on many levels the control we now have over the people with which we communicate...I only know a small handful of phone numbers by heart, and most of those are childhood contacts...none of which I call on a daily basis. If they're not in my phone, I not only won't call them...but I CAN'T call them. Scary.
I am going to make it a point this month to call each of the people in my contacts list at least once, because if I have this much control over my circle of communication, I can't blame anyone else for lapses in connection but myself.
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