Closet Connotations

Every night as I lay me down to sleep I face my closet. After all these years it still brings a sense of uneasiness though I know what is and isn't there. There are clothes, suitcases, gift wrapping materials. There are no ghosts or monsters; maybe a spider.

Why is it that closets have an eeriness? Even if you leave your fears behind with your childhood, it takes a different form. People (I have a bad feeling it's not just kids) are inhumanely punished in closets. We hide our "skeletons" and dirty little secrets in them. Closets are crammed so we can appear clean when someone comes into our rooms.

After all these negative associations, why do some people insist on adding another by trying to force others to proverbially live in a closet? It's dark, lonely and crammed. It's full of things we don't necessarily use and even forget. Why should we try to forget our friends, family members, neighbours, by keeping them there?

Worse, why is it our church, an entity that claims to be loving and accepting, is a culprit in this crime? I feel sometimes as so-called believers we make God look bad. I wish we as a whole would tell our closeted counterparts it's OK to come out, that we're there to love, accept and help them with anything they are struggling with. It would be even better if we meant and acted on it as a whole.

I understand loving someone or something unfamiliar can be a struggle; I've been there and still wrestle with some concepts. But think about what life would be like if you were stuffed in a closet. The thought alone depresses me.

Even if you're not ready to support a "radical" or "liberal" change, at least don't judge; that's more than some get. And if we did minimum maybe we'd have less lonely fellow humans in the dark.

Singled Out

Last Saturday I went to potluck... for young married couples. I happened to be with Kelly and Santi when our friend Garrett invited us and received no indication that it was for a certain demographic.

Stan and Angie, the hosts, were a bit surprised to see me but quite welcoming. (If you don't know them, they are a sweet, older couple who do premarital counseling at my alma mater.) I do confess that I felt slightly out of place. Which one is not like the others? *Raises hand* The only other single was Danny, Zak and Jovannah's two-year-old.

We had the food blessing and after filling my plate I looked for a seat. Two empty chairs were next to Kelly and I took one. A few seconds passed before Stan came over and asked if I could scoot over so I wouldn't "break up" a couple and pulled up another chair. He joked that they would've given me a couple hours to find somebody had they known I was coming.

Cue awkward/courtesy chuckle.

Luckily I knew most of the couples at our table and we had a pretty lively conversation about general subjects. Apparently the other table had a marriage-focused table talk.

Before leaving Stan turned to me and said he hoped this inspired me. Inspired me to do what, Stan? He left that to interpretation. This is what I got: I am happy being single but I am thankful for the coupled friends who aren't exclusive.

Birds of a Feather... Bake Together?

Last Sunday my bakery chums and I had our "We Survived the Holidays" party. We went over to Stacy's house for a potluck celebration. Of the 13 employees only two were missing.

All of us can cook and our spread definitely showed. Included were free-range beef sloppy joes (they smelled really good), a beautiful pineapple turnover, lentil soup, and homemade ice-cream. There were no dish assignments, just brought something, but had a balanced entrée/dessert ratio. And only one person brought bread.

We sat at one of two tables but eventually migrated to the larger dining table. As we told and listened to each others' stories, shared recipes, or reminisced about customer encounters, I felt like we were at a reunion.

I looked around and realized these people had become an odd little family to me. Some are younger, some are older, but there seems to be a vibe of familiarity, value and respect. I even supported some outside of work: VJ and his gospel choir down at the Zoo Bar and Naomi with a pottery exhibit.

Things will eventually change and new people will come and some of us will go. But for the moment I wouldn't have us any other way.

"Bump" Went the Night

I'm probably one of the silliest "adults" ever. I'm in my mid-twenties and still slightly afraid of the dark. That's why I shun horror movies or anything dealing with the supernatural. Growing up in a superstitious culture has its toll.

Tonight I remember descending into deep, deep sleep. Everything was slowly fading but a noise made me come back. There's the cause, but why? I know these sounds: creak, thunk, rattle; they're floor, the breathing house, and window, respectively; they don't usually bother me.

I turned on my bed lamp and looked around. There was my stuff, right where I left it. I "bravely" got up and looked around my apartment. I even looked under my bed. (Ridiculous, I know.) Nothing. The closet was clear too, though that particular place has been a constant source of worry since childhood. Somehow that baggage stayed with me. I couldn't sleep for three days after watching Coraline because I faced my closet. That was two years ago.

I tried to go back to sleep but my overactive imagination and the night's ability to magnify sound were against me. These times make me wish for someone to protectively snuggle against or a roommate. It's the whole "strength in numbers" mentality.

Right now I really want to close my eyes and get some rest, but I'm scared of something I don't know about. Maybe I'll wait 'til morning to do that. Or maybe I'll leave the light on, something I also used to do as a kid.

Take That, Cover Letter!

Currently I'm fighting for concentration while trying to rework an old cover letter. It's the thing I dislike most about a job application process. If professionalism could step outside for a minute or if I could take and tie it and lock it in the broom closet until my job app is finished, here's what I would actually say:

Dear Prospective Employer,

Hello. I'm writing this because I need a job and out of force must try to impress you with words. Thanks to technology we can ditch the watermarked paper and save myself some postage.

I love creating and would like to do it for a full-time living. I've created cool-looking stuff, including posters, invitations, banners and programs, some which were seen around the community. I even made directory that featured hand-drawn illustrations.

I'm good at what I do and I'm dedicated. My clients love my design work and I aim to keep them happy. I haven't had a single complaint since I began freelancing three years ago. They love me and you would too.

With the economy still in a shabby state I really need a job, preferably one I enjoy. (I would also like know I didn't waste time and money in college.) This seems to fit the aforementioned description, so I would appreciate it if you would hire me.

Sincerely,

Me

What's Your Answer?

(Watch the video. THEN read. ;-))

Being a part of this was random luck. My sisters and I were at the Plaza on Black Friday afternoon when we were asked if we would like to support the project. Adri didn't participate but she persuaded Beky to do this with me.

Later I thought about my answer and decided it was not The One. The one off the top of my head but not completely correct: I like where I live, I have friends in the area, I grew as a person, and I'm not too far from mom and dad. My situation worked out and I don't really regret it. Honestly I feel like the people towards the end of the video. I am me because of choices I've made, so what's really to regret? Not too shabby so far, I think.

I thought and thought and thought some more and actually came up with something. It's not because I want to have a regret; it's because I want to be honest with myself and try to do better. I regret not being there (for X or Y reason) for some people close to me when they needed my love, support or at least my presence. I truly I'm sorry about that.

Going back to the video, I do want to ask the rest of you, what's YOUR answer?

My Vie Boheme

Here's to...
too-small apartments, lack of parking, and a prison-sized sink; to bunkbeds (To bunkbeds!) and food made of soy; to IMs, invoices, someone sleeping on your floor; to snowpants and 11 people digging out your car; to breadboard philosophies and half-baked theories; to zombies and the coming apocalypse; to late-night grocery store runs and staying up with friends; to garage sales, curbside junking and dumpster diving; to nerds downstairs who download the world; to simplicity and electricity; to job applications, posts and rejection letters; to getting "hammered and sickled" with Leninade; to praising God when you didn't get a job you really didn't want; to sleep overs and dinners (in the same evening), Goodwill and Dollar Tree presents; to kneading, baking and bagging bread; to roadtrips that empty your pockets but enrich your life; to hostels, gum walls and weddings you never reach; to salmon and ratatouille and splurging for a Rolling Wok feast; to gardens and muddy shoes; to bicycles and the punks who steal them; to searching Craigslist and sipping mate from gourds; to animation and good films; to gnomes, used books shops and maps; to ninjas and pirates; to classic rock, real musicians and mashups; to futons that creak; to minimum wages jobs and the co-workers who become an odd family; to paper lifesavers and Dinner Roast holiday meals; to experimental cooking and butternut squash; to a clean apartment, incense and a warbly parakeet; to knowing "it too shall pass"; to the comedy of errors that is being independent; to steady (and floozy!) clients and PDFs with corrections; to odd design jobs and random inspiration; to hats, musicals and outcasts; to photo shoots, skinny dipping and lost pets; to questions that often don't get answered; to wondering if I'll make rent; to opera and coffee and the animal crackers you dip in it; to a family who makes you laugh and somehow cry; to shuffling a deck of cards called "Beliefs" and sitting quietly to hear silence; to yoga, to yoga, and 24-hour diners; to $5 worth of fries and curse-word therapy; to blogs, bloggers and vinyl; to profiles, pictures, information overload and the power button to turn it off; to too many books, farmers markets and bartering; to three-green salad (or was it four?); to free music, lunches and sweating through the summer to save on electricity; to an AC that leaks cold winter air and broken coffee pots; to closets being for clothes, shoes, odds and ends but not people; to Tardis and Sherlock; to being wrapped in blankets because there is minimal heat; to a teddy bear that shares a bed with you; to being drowsy after watching a winter solstice lunar eclipse; to Spanglish and breakfasts that consists of huevos rancheros, coffee, tortillas, beans, and avocados; to being (technically) poor but feeling like the world is yours; to dreaming in ink and laughing at life; to a group of friends that will "never be old enough."

Viva my vie boheme!