Another Day in Paradise

I love leftovers. Soups gain depth and sauces souse (that's a new word I hope I'm using correctly). Food more often than not just tastes that much better the next day. Often I am reminded of the company with whom I may have shared that meal. Hopefully it was a pleasant experience, otherwise I tend to emotionally bar myself from eating that particular food again. If I can eat it though, it's like a bonus, because I don't have to cook anything new or go out and shell out way too much money on a bowl of noodles I can make myself. And when time is of the essence, meaning, I'm hungry now, leftovers make my day. Am I alone in the way I savor remnants?

So why is it that we feel slighted when we pick up scraps? Jesus rewarded the woman who asked for the crumbs from the master's table even after she was ignored and shooed away. What an amazing attitude to have - to understand that the gravy swabbed from His napkin was worth her daughter's life. Wow. After watching A Christmas Carol on TV, I was not only reminded of the over-abundance I wade in everyday, but how stiff my bed feels from the pennies I shove between it and the boxspring. I remember a time when experiencing God's compassion and generosity towards people were a part of my everyday. I was thankful for little things, like seeing the sun peak through the obdurately overcast sky, hearing the voice of my mom on the phone tell me to speak English because she couldn't understand my broken Mandarin, and Diet Coke that took more than three hours to find, purchase, chill, and sip. The only thing I still thank God for on a daily basis is being regular. No joke. Do you know what it's like to hop the C or D train everyday for over a year? In the absence of convenience, I see God in most everything. But in the overflow of blessing, I lose Him in the glare of my rearview mirror. God is good...all the time. All the time...God is good.

I guess asking Santa for a Tempurpedic mattress won't get rid of the crick in my neck. How about just a pillow?

I still have so much to learn.

The Prisoner

The operations segment of my division rolled out a re-org last week. My boss decided it was time to shake up the org chart for the sake of the business. But as much as it was explained that way, pride took front row to business acumen. Calls to HR, threats of law suits, and generally unhappy people gives the office a strange, unsettling feel. Having known about this shuffle awhile ago, I had been immunized to the initial shock. But I was taken aback by the commotion this all caused. Why are people so personally invested in their jobs? Is it that hard to disengage your human identity with the cubicle you occupy? The abode you call home? The vehicle that gets you from A to B? Dude, I drive a Camry. A CAMRY. Not even one of the nice looking ones of late. Asian females with bratty, culturally challenged kids who play the piano, violin, and captain the math team drive this car. The only thing I have in common with them is my inability to obey traffic laws (thankfully I have learned to anchor my identity in the Lord...most of the time). Granted, I do my fair share of stashing work stress in my briefcase and toting it home with me. But a good movie, a welcomed hug, or some yummy food will easily take precedence in my one-idea-at-a-time mind. In fact, sometimes it's enough to fool me into believing tomorrow is a sleep-in day or a day where I am pleasantly awakened by, well, something pleasant, like an early tee time! In any case, I thankfully boarded a plane just in time to avoid the initial aftermath of the corporate chaos.

Today is business as usual, at least for me.

Sleep All Day

As I quickly got comfortable in my cloud of a bed last night, my mind was formulating today's blog entry. But I'm struggling to remember the sleepy prose that seemed so eloquent as I prepared to enter the best part of my day. Something about getting over shame to take more risk. Brain dump begins now...

So what is it about embarrassment that makes someone...okay, who am I kidding...that makes me shy away from trying new things? I'm not terribly competitive or at least I've convinced myself that I am not. But the element of shame that comes with inadequacy sometimes overwhelms me. To give you a picture of how ridiculous this is, when I first became a Christian my freshman year of college, I fought the numerous invitations to join Bible studies because I didn't want others see me struggle to find where the heck John was in my crisp new Bible. Crazy. I didn't want to learn to play golf because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hit the ball straight and far enough to finish one hole (which actually still happens even after six months of playing, mind you). Absurd. I still get pangs of anxiety in anticipation of using my four note range to impart cacophonous pain on my friends. Ludicrous. Isn't that the point of karaoke? Okay, not wanting to ski had more to do with not wanting to break a leg, but after almost doing just that, i'm ready for the next season (let me at that mountain!). But why the heck am I so concerned about what others think?

I need to get over myself and live a little.

November Spawned a Monster

Happy birthday!

Sunglasses at Night

I think it's amazing what our minds can conjure up and then convince us that the game is real. An operator on the floor came up with this absurd story that a few others have been sabotaging her work in order to get her fired. So they wait on the sidelines and go through the painstaking motions of undoing her work only to redo it the wrong way. How can that be? We have a hard enough time getting these people to simply WORK. But no problem getting them to dismantle and rework product all the while doing their own work too? I can't believe I spent half a day listening to all the sides of this crazy story. I guess this is a bit how parents feel.

Then I think about all the times I tried to scam my parents. As a kid, it was my job to keep them on their toes, right? Problem was, I was never that great of a liar. If I went into a life of crime, I think I would end up in the top ten of the annual Darwin awards. So why do we lie? Do we throw out those white lies to protect ourselves, to keep the waves calm, or just for pure sport? When people lie to me, I feel disappointed (granted I find out). But when they lie and I discover their deceit through other avenues, it's worse. For a moment, I feel betrayed, but then it ultimately points back to me. Why did they find it necessary to hide the truth from me? Is it because I can't be trusted? Or are they afraid of my reaction? I can hardly remember a time when they were trying to protect me from the truth. But that's just my perception. I guess it's true what they say. You can't change other people; you can only change yourself.

Who's they anyway?