"Hello Help?"

I love Facebook; I have a lot of fun on Facebook. One reason I have so much fun on Facebook is because I entertain myself so easily and I have friends who are exceptionally good at it as well. A few months ago, I made my status into a game (it’s a favorite thing of mine to do), the category being “Movie Plots Made Irrelevant by the Advent of the Cell Phone” and asked friends to chime in. It is as easy as it sounds. Here are a few of the submissions, as well as reasons why they wouldn’t work anymore had a cell phone been part of the plot.

Kujo. "Hello, 911? Yes, I'm stranded in my car on a country road and there is a mad crazy dog outside trying to get in. Already killed someone. Could you send a squad and some big guns? Thanks."

An Affair to Remember. "Hey I was on my way there but I got run over...meet me at hospital and we'll chat?"

Misery. “Trapped by Kathy Bates. She has hammer, I have ankles. Come quick.”

Every single Batman movie, they don't need the sign in the sky. Then AT&T would know who Batman is.

Into the Wild. “Yo! Need sandwich. I’m in the bus. There’s a bridge ½ mile upstream? Really? Shoot…my bad.”

The Little Mermaid (texting of course): "Eric, I'm a mermaid and if you don't kiss me, crazy sea lady will kill us all. U R cute. Love Ariel."

Pretty Woman. "Hey Lawyer-guy/future George Costanza, I can't drive your bloody Lotus like a man, so could you come pick my weak ass up before this really tall girl from Mystic Pizza pseudo-hooker tries to pick me up?"

Seven. "Honey if Kevin Spacey knocks on the door DO NOT ANSWER IT."

Titanic: "I'm the freezing chick in the water who just let go of Jack (over here where the sad music is playing). Please get your damn boat over here now! I can’t yell but I’ll play my ringtone really loud for you.”

Every horror movie EVER: "Hello? 911? There is some psycho something about to chase me. I am going run outside, screaming, looking behind me the whole time, and then I am going to trip. Come find me before it's too late."

Fight Club. "Why is it every time I try to call Tyler Durden I get my own voice mail? Hmmm...."

Labyrinth. "Mom? Can't find little bro. Think Bowie kidnapped him. Call cops?"

Jaws: "Hello, there is a huge-ass angry shark headed towards our boat and he's been chasing us for a couple of days. We tried to kill it ourselves, but have recently deemed ourselves idiots and decided that might not be the best option."

Silence of the Lambs: "Hello, 911? Some hella creepy dude is trying to make a size-14 skin suit outta my ass. Send help immediately to 421 Scary-Torture-Pit-In-The-Basement Way."

Citizen Kane: "BTW, Rosebud was my sled. Ya'll kiss it."

Forrest Gump. "Hello Jenn-ay? You are around the corner? I'm at the bus stop. Be right there."

Robin Hood: "Hey, Richard? Yeah, that Nottingham guy is acting like a giant douche. Screw the Crusades, get back here and get your sh*t straight."

Every James Bond movie ever: "Hey Henchman? Yeah, it's the Head Villian Dude. Change of plans: shoot the British guy in the face."

Sleepless in Seatle. Meg Ryan: I'm on the Empire State Building.....you? Tom Hanks: See ya in a minute.

The Notebook. "Hey, you get my letters? No? Your mom is a B. I love you, bought us a house. Check it out."

The Shining “Come freaking rescue us from the middle of nowhere. Some psycho is cutting holes in doors of the hotel room!

Princess Bride: "Buttercup, I am not dead - I have become the dread Pirate Roberts and am plundering the sea so that I can save money for us to get married.... well I would have called earlier but I’ve been mostly dead all day.”

Memento. Daily text to self: "You lost your memory, nut job. You killed wife."

Gone with the wind. "Scarlett, you are a crazy B. Not coming back."

Crimson Tide: "hello headquarters? Our telegraph machine from 1953 got broke on our nuclear submarine here and damn if we can't read your last message. Are the Russians still trippin? No?! Okay well, could you tell that to Gene Hackman over here? He won't believe what my black-ass has to say and is just ITCHIN to blow shit up.”

Crying Game. Solved with one text: "Dude, chick is a dude."

Romeo and Juliet. "Hey Romeo, ya Jewels here. Look I'm drinking something that will make me LOOK dead. So don't freak out or anything. I'm not REALLY dead. See ya soon. LUV U :)

Hope that entertained you; I think I speak for all my friends when I say we had a great time doing it.
I promise a real and more substantial blog post soon!

A Weekend of Mirrors

The year is winding down. How has time sped up with age? Years go by like breaths; I cannot comprehend this passage of time so flippantly.
Friday we were to get our first snowfall of the season, and as usual all of Asheville was electric with excitement and fear. Why does even the suggestion of snow turn adults into dancing kids? I woke Friday to a slight snow cover with much more falling. Neither roommate was home so I had the place to myself and snuggled in for a winter’s quiet.

Around 2:30 Justin and Doug came to the house to get snowed in with me; what great friends. We watched movies, made drinks, ate lots of snacks and watched the snow fall. A snowman was successfully undertaken and just as we came inside, a large tree came down in our neighbor’s yard, blocking the road and taking out the power lines. There went our heat, our lights and our movie-marathon agenda. Justin, Doug and I spent the rest of the night playing Trivial Pursuit by candlelight. It was as fun/more fun than it sounds.

The rest of the weekend was filled with sledding, hot toddies, “My Cousin Vinny” and the rare opportunity to use my snowshoes in Asheville. Since my house had no heat, Saturday night was spent playing the infamous karaoke PS3 game at Nathan’s before finally passing out on the couch at 4am with Justin. Sunday found a slow-food solstice party with friends in West Asheville in a home full of kids, dogs, friends and really ridiculously good food/beer.

Sunday night my little sister and I had a text conversation about accountability that I loved. I believe with my whole body that it is imperative that we (as people) live in community; that is, we surround ourselves with people who love us well enough to tell us the truth and that we love and respect enough to listen. I have been innumerably and inexplicably blessed in this regard and I wanted her to know how important it is. Growing up neither of my parents had social circles to speak of and I wonder how much of that imposed solitude impacted them negatively. It is something about them that I haven’t thought about before. If we aren’t loved in community, I fear we tend toward emotional and societal entropy. I know I do. I can talk myself into and out of anything; if I don’t have mirrors then the only person checking me is me, and often I am not wise or good to myself. But those people who love me wisely and well are, in their own way, the voice of God, steadfastly affirming while lovingly desiring the very best, even when it isn’t what I want to hear. And during this holiday season, it is them that I am most blessed to love.

Singing in the Storm

"Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It's like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can't stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship."
— Anne Lamott

I wanted to say thanks to all those who have said to me that they understand what I meant in that last post. There have been several of you, and your willingness to sing in that boat with me has meant much.

One of Us In a Boat

So my blog is now seven years old. I've said a lot of things over and over during those seven years. And yes, very often my blog does act like a second grader.
One of the hard parts of blogging right now is that much of what I want to write I don’t even say aloud. I do a lot of twittering (shameless plug: www.twitter.com/ssspoonah) because it is easy to keep it light, keep it funny, keep the dog and pony show going, keep the bowling pins in the air.

In reality, it’s been a lonely year. I haven’t been alone, I’ve been lonely. I’m far from alone: I’ve had more visitors than I’ve ever hosted, attended dinners and parties weekly, had wine nights and mimosa mornings, camping trips, hikes, paddling adventures; I’ve met dozens of new friends and spent more time laughing than crying.

For the most part, my life is full. I have a great job. I have a good community. I have friends all over the country that love and support me. In this way, I am blessed.

But I am also very lonely. It’s hit me more this year than in years past. When I attend events, it is as a solo entity; I am not part of some dynamic duo. I am single. It has become more obvious to me as less and less of my peers are in the same boat. I am among the waning few that show up alone.

I have to be honest: it hurts.

I’ve been friends with several girls (and I use that term intentionally) who seemed resolute in the belief that their life couldn’t really “start” until they were paired up. They couldn’t make decisions about what to do or where to go until the marriage license was signed. It was as if the whole of their lives was actually the one dimension of matrimony.

I am not waiting for my life to start; I’m living my life. I’m just growing tired of doing it without company, of having a fabulous night, then driving home and sleeping alone. I am finally ready to admit that.

Natalie’s illness has only exacerbated this. I haven’t heard her voice or seen her beautiful face in almost six months and it kills the core of me. It is a physical ache. Erin used the best metaphor and I’ll plagiarize it: my heart is a compass and Natalie is my magnetic north. She steadfastly points in the right direction; she gives bearing when the sky is too dark to see stars. Without her, I feel unmoored; adrift, heartbroken and alone.

2009 has been a good year; a great year in some respects. But to my heart it has been most cruel.

Like a Miracle

A miracle:
“an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.”

There is much that looks impossible. Whether those impossibilities are longstanding or recent, they contain the stuff of futility. I look at them and I know I am powerless. And so I do the only thing I can do: I pray. Prayer, to whoever it is, is hope projected.

I pray for miracles and when I do, part of me expects a big event, my very own parting of the sea. I expect noise and action, an epiphany or a grand gesture, a watershed moment where nothing before looks like what is after.
I’m beginning to learn that miracles are miraculous not because of their size but because of their specificity. They aren’t these big events; they are, like my understanding of who God is, quiet. Miracles, when they do come, are more of a breath than a shout.

That isn’t to say they aren’t life-altering, merely that they are only recognizable to those who were looking for them. In that way, they are much like love.