Wrestling with the Devil of the 21st Century

The following is an excerpt from the review of the movie “Julie and Julia”. I found that these paragraphs struck a chord in me and really convicted me of the ambition behind my dreams. To read the review in it’s entirity please follow this link:

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1914995-2,00.html

“I could write a blog,” Julie tells her cute husband Eric (Chris Messina), who agrees, because he is as supportive and helpful as a Seeing Eye dog. She is pleased by her growing mastery of French cooking, but what she’s really exultant about is the growing number of comments on her blog. She has followers, the contemporary dream. After the New York Times‘s Amanda Hesser writes about her, Julie returns home to 65 messages from assorted agents, publishers and reporters and delightedly tells Eric, “I’m going to be a writer!” By then we know her ambition well enough to be surprised she’s not crowing, “I’m going to be famous!”

There are memoirists like Child who write about what made them famous, or infamous. There are unremarkable people who write about a remarkable thing that happened to them. And there is the 21st century memoirist, who makes him- or herself interesting in order to write about it, usually through a time-centric gimmick, like spending a few months at, say, an ashram.” (Mary Pols Time Magazine)

I realize how much of the time I want to succeed not merely so that I can accomplish something, but so others will notice me. It especially hit me in the face thinking about creating music. Do I write songs because I must? Because it’s the most natural thing to do in response to life? Or because I want people to sit up and take notice? This is a sobering thought that I shall be dwelling on for awhile.

It’s so easy for the 21st century individual, with so many tools like blogging, or twitter, or facebook, to get caught up in the numbers and forget why you are acting on your dreams. It’s like swimming up stream. I remember a verse in the Bible that admonished christians to use the tools the world has to offer, but not be captured by them and forget why they use them. There’s nothing inherently wrong with twitter or blogging or comments on blogs, but they are tools, not a platform.

These are the thoughts that will be my companions for awhile.

Do you have any insight or thoughts you’d like to share on the subject?

Vanita

The Golden Ticket: Nashville Style

The long line of hopefuls slowly inched forward. I backhandedly complained about the exhaustive heat. Joe secretly snapped a picture of a guy’s mullet. Veronica chatted happily about random things. My stomach churned inside me. My guitar seemed extra heavy.

I came to Nashville to pursue music. A fact which the natives will tell you, is a common occurrence in “music city”.

Like many aspiring Nashvillian artists, I quickly learned about the Bluebird Cafe. A painfully tiny venue for songwriters to showcase their burgeoning talent.

After having lived in Nashville quietly for 2 months, I decided to take that famed first step and play the Bluebird.

I arrived early that evening, or in my opinion early, but by the time Joe dropped me off at the sidewalk there were already 30 + musicians waiting for the doors to open.  It was then I realized that this was a Nashville staple.

The cafe is known throughout the US but it is surprisingly unassuming when you actually come face to face with it. Veronica and Joe found me in line and that is where we remained for the next hour or so. People around us, young and hold alike, chatted about music, Nashville, but mostly how overcrowded the cafe always was. I could detect the different levels of people standing with me. There was the very young, naive hopeful (not unlike myself), there was the older gentleman who wrote songs mostly about heartbreak and trucks. There was the pink lady, which I haven’t yet been able to figure out, but she was draped in hot pink attire head to toe, and then there were those who simply were playing to share their music.

My reverie was broken as we heard voices near the front and the line moved forward. My heart began to pound harder and harder and I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach. It took forever but finally I could see the door. All of this was quite anti-climatic for within feet of entering we were told that we couldn’t enter because of some silly fire hazard. But I got the most coveted of gifts in return: A stamped ticket, with my name on it, a token that would assure me of being able to play the next time I ventured out.

I imagine that the Blue bird ticket is not unlike Willy Wonka’s golden ticket. Coveted by many. Many will return with it. Only a few will actually get to see their dreams come true.

I returned the following week and got to play! It was a terrifying experience but I can’t wait to play again. In fact, I once again possess a ticket and plan on redeeming it as soon as I can.

Ah, the life of the unnoticed musician.

Look for me at the Bluebird.

Vanita

Impossible: I beg to differ

    So I’m here in Nashville, waiting, literally waiting for a phone call or an e-mail awarding me a job! This is the most frightened I’ve ever been in life. Probably because I’ve never been so out of control before. I have no job, but I still have bills and expenses. I’ve been trying to have faith and trust that God will provide, but so far…nothing.

   I attend Crosspoint Community Church with my boyfriend and sister (Veronica). Every sundays’ message seems directed towards me. This past sunday Pastor Pete talked about prayer. Ironic right? The question was: does God answer prayer?

 

    I will not go into the sermon, if you want to listen simply go to www.crosspoint.tv, but one of the verses mentioned was the one in the bible that says something about if  ’earthly fathers know how to give good gifts how much does your father in heaven.’ (very paraphrased).

     On Sunday I was chilling with Joe and I received a text from my brother-in law. It was a picture of Buddy, the dog I left behind. He was adorable and I was suddenly crying because I missed him. Yeah I know, I’m kind of mush when it comes to dogs. That led into me dragging old photo albums out and showing Joe pictures of Buddy when he was a pup. We were ewing and awing over his cuteness and then I started to reminisce about how we obtained some of our animals:

 

            I was splashing around in our backyard pool with my sisters and a friend from church. It was a beautiful day and was just about to get even better. “Our dogs had puppies,” my friend announced to us. We were instantly all ears. We had a dog but she was all alone and it became quite apparent then and there that she definitely needed a playmate. 

     “Are you keeping all of them?” Vida asked excitedly. “No,” the girl answered, “we have to find homes for them.” We later found out that these dogs had BOTH been fixed but had still managed to bring puppies into the world. We were also told that there was no knowledge of who the actual father was. There were 2 theories. 1 being it was the neighborhood St. Bernard (unlikely considering how Buddy turned out) and 2 being it was the girl dogs’ brother, which in fact was very likely since Buddy looks EXACTLY like both of them. Despite the fact that they had been born in a scandalous circumstance, we were sure that one of these puppies would fit perfectly into our lives. “Let’s go ask Dad!” Veronica exclaimed and so we all jumped out of the pool grabbed towels and ran into the house.

    Dad was hanging his keys up and dropping his brief case has our little feet dashed up to him. “DAD, they have puppies and we want one! Ginger is so lonely and we would take care of it and pay for everything and they’re free and they have to get rid of them and….” and that was pretty much how we presented our case. We had not yet learned the fine art of manipulation that every young girl eventually instinctively knows to some degree. So much as could be expected he said, “No, we already have one and I know what’s going to happen. You’re all going to go off to college and leave me and your mom to take care of it.” 

  To this we assured him that this would never happen. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to college and he would come with me everywhere and mom would never ever have to so much as look at him. I’m not sure how long it took, but I suppose we wore him down because eventually he caved and agreed, “Ok fine, you can get a puppy but in exchange I want you girls to help file some documents in my study.” This seemed like a small fee to pay so we all agreed this could work out. In the end Veronica maybe spent 3 hours total filing for Dad. Somehow Vida and I got out of it and it was never finished anyway. Funny how adults forget certain things. 

      So that’s how we got Buddy. And yes. I moved and did not take him with me and am pretty sure Mom definitely not only sees him but has direct contact with him daily. 

     Then there was the case of the kittens. Ah yes. A few years ago us girls again decided that our life was incomplete for the lack of kittens, and again some friends from church had a fresh batter, excuse me, litter of kittens. So off we went to pursuade Dad. This was tough, because Dad disliked cats even more than dogs. So we had to be careful. We thought about making him sign a paper saying we could get a kitten and somehow disguising the contents. We threatened to call family meetings to take a vote, but he only said that his vote outweighed ours, which made me rampage about women’s rights for at least an hour. We begged. We pleaded. We made him breakfast and waxed his car…well, not quite, but I’ll put in my stack of ideas for later. 

    Finally after weeks of exertion Dad came out to breakfast one morning and begrudgingly mumbled something about having, “a dream that we got a gray stripped cat. And I guess God works through dreams. So,” interject defeated sigh, “you can get a cat. But just one and it has to be male and it has to be neutered.” We were ecstatic and hugged and kissed him and assured him we would comply with his wishes. 

   I told a neighbor who I cleaned house for about our getting a kitten and she decided she wanted one too. So off we went to get our kitten and hers. We brought home 2, a gray stripped one, and a tan stripped one. They had been home for maybe ten minutes and we were in a quandary. They were both so cute. “How can we decide which one,” Veronica wined. “It’s not fair that we have to make this choice,” Vida declared. Vera agreed with both of them and I was far from arguing. Dad was in the kitchen peaking in on us every few minutes. He acted like he was disgusted with the fury creatures but I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in his eye and a soft smile when he turned to leave. 

   Finally, we decided to enlist his help. “Dad, we have no idea which one to keep. What do you think?” Vera asked soberly. We all anxiously waited for his response and the automatic heartbreak to follow as we relinquished one feline.  

   There are some moments in a girl’s life when she realizes that she has a strange, magical way of somehow getting what she wants. Maybe it was our angelic faces staring sadly up at him. Maybe it was the little balls of fuzz crawling in our arms. Maybe it was the single tear trickling tragically down my anguished face. I suppose it could’ve been a lot of things, but somehow the flood gates of heaven opened and I think so did Dad’s heart. He sighed in a strangely wistful and tragic way and simply said. “Ok, fine. You can keep them both.” We gasped. “NO! Wait really? Really? DAD really?” We all started talking at once. Dad assured us that he was serious and then with slumped shoulders but a definite smile on his face he walked away. 

   In his honor we named the gray stripped cat, which we were sure was the one in his dream, AJ. AJ was Dad’s nickname at his old job and it was perfect for a cat. I think deep down inside Dad was honored that we chose to give this cate his name.

      It’s been years and we no longer convince Dad that we need pets, now we simply try to convince our boyfriends or husbands. But one thing I will say about my Dad, he knows how to give good gifts and surprises to his children. 

     So if my earthly father can give me a puppy or 2 kittens, I think my heavenly father can give me a job. 

     I think I’ve been trying to beg God and manipulate him into me getting my own way. But sometimes God simply wants us to get as close to him as possible before He grants us our requests. And sometimes He doesn’t give us what we want. I always wanted a horse, but Dad never let us get one. Now, however, I completely understand why and am grateful he didn’t give one to us.

    So Dad, thanks for teaching me about giving and withholding.

 

  And God, please give me a job. I rest my case.

    Paz

Laundry

 I am so lazy when it comes to laundry. 

I just realized the laundry I thought was dry (which has been in the dryer for 24 hours) was still wet…oops. Besides that I think I’d make an excellent little homemaker! (hehehe)

 

   I find out this weekend if I get the job at the Aloft hotel or not! I am hoping for this so bad. 

  Trusting that God will provide is so stinking hard, especially since I know He likes to wait till the very last second.

 

  Anyway,

   I’ll post a blog if I get the job, or if I don’t!

   Paz todos

Changed…

   I finally finished a song I’ve been trying to write for awhile now… I’m gonna record the music on saturday but here are the lyrics!

   Let me know what you think…

I’m not the kind of girl

I thought I would be

Something’s changed that has broken

a small part of me

The road’s too far gone

My short cuts are long

I’ll just sit by this fountain to think

 

You’re not the kind of man

that usually talks to me

that laughs an smiles with a strange sense of ease

every dark corner cries

searching for light

but i’m too scared to let you see

 

You ask me to drink

of water that’s pure

to take one more chance

and open my door

Though my spirit quakes

but your love shakes

every secret out of me

 

The words that you say

Are causing strange effects

I’m loosing my grip 

but gaining respect

the more that you find

the less I’m resigned to my worn state of atrophy

 

Oh, I’d run through the town and I’d scream and I’d shout

and I’d try to make everybody see

I’ll tell them a man told me who I am

they should see me

changed

 

Fears for Freedom, Tantrums for Truth

   I tend to get very anxious at times about my life. It can be anything in general. But I let these fears side track me and take my mind off of Jesus and His truth.

   I won’t go into the whole story, but today I decided to take a step into freedom. It wasn’t a huge moment, indeed it was a simple 2 minute prayer, but the peace that is flooding my heart is truly not of this world. 

    Once, during an especially hard time Joe asked me to give him my “fears for freedom”. Ever since he said that God keeps bringing it back to me. I believe He gave those words to Joe for me to cling to in moments of doubt and distress. 

    Along with freedom comes truth. 

    I am a tantrum person (those of you who know me know this). I tend to whine, complain, state my opinion, and generally think I am right most of the time. Well God kind of took care of that today as well. Again, not in a huge lightning bolt, but in gentle reminders in my spirit. The truth?

  I am selfish

I am prideful

I am self-centered and self seeking

I have a hard time listening to God’s spirit

I am a wanderer

I am a doubter

I am a cheater

I am a liar

                                         Fears for Freedom, Tantrums for truth.

  The Truth?

He is faithful

He never tires of us

He loves completely, unashamedly, every second of every day

He remembers His promises

He is in control

He provides for those in need

He heals

He creates

He inspires

He gives

He takes

 He’ll never change

                                                                     But is constantly changing me.

Chips Ahoy and Sunny D: and all the things they taught me

     Having just moved to Nashville I’ve been spending the last 2 weeks setting up house and stressing about finding a job. I moved to Nashville to pursue music and follow my dreams, which I’m finding is very emotionally draining and tiring.

    Somedays I just sit on my air mattress in my room wondering what I’m doing here, or what I need to do now. 

   In between these reflective moments I am with Joe or Veronica (my roommate). We soon realized that our apartment was lacking a TV, so Veronica craigslisted it and found a TV for us! 

   I was quite excited about it but kind of stressed because it meant I had to spend money. But as a true american would, I realized that TV is definitely a priority so off we went to Murfreesboro to pick up said TV.

   I never knew how much of a cynic and pessimist I was until that night. As we were walking up the steps to pick up the TV at a random apartment complex, I started thinking about all kinds of scenarios of what could happen. What if it was a trick and they didn’t have a TV but they were mean people who wanted to kidnap us? I know, my imagination is a little off kilter sometimes, but this is how my mind works. 

   As it turns out, in this situation, my mind couldn’t have been more wrong. We were greeted by a kind gentleman who had a slight accent and gentle nature. He invited us in and started joking around and offered us seats. His mother came out and she didn’t speak but 2 words of english, but she smiled and greeted us. He showed us the condition of the TV and showed us how to work it and then he and Joe loaded it up in my car.

   He insisted to put the TV in the front seat with the seatbelt. It was humorous watching the two men struggle with the best way to pack it into my car.

   After the TV was in they went back for the TV stand. The  gentleman told us that his mother would get us some refreshments. So Veronica and I sat on the coach while the darling woman put a package of chips ahoy on a little white stool in front of us. She said something about her not knowing english but we smiled and reassured her it was fine. 

  It was kind of weird. Sitting in a strangers house munching on chips ahoy. The men came back in and we all sat down and ate cookies and sipped on Sunny D. We talked of his children and what we were doing in Nashville and simply got to know each other. 

   I was astounded that these people were so kind to complete strangers. They were moving but the food they hadn’t packed was ours. It was so sweet and surprising that it took all of us back. We parted ways with smiles and waves and as we were walking back to the car all 3 of us were in shock.

    We’re so used to just living alone and separate in this culture that takes us aback when we have some type of interaction with strangers. 

    Needless to say it was eye opening for me, something I hope I won’t forget.

 

  So if you’re ever in the neighborhood stop by. Maybe it’ll be Sunny D or chips ahoy or perhaps just a glass of water, but let’s get out of our comfort zones and learn how to love people again.