Do You Realize?

The big question that's haunting me lately: Is there a God? No, wait. I have that one covered (to the best of my knowledge).

Just thinking/writing aloud, should I fork over the money to go see the Flaming Lips at the CMAC Performing Arts Center this summer? Especially knowing that no one will go with me?

I loved Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots soooo much. I played it incessantly. I even named the dwarf Japanese maple in our front yard Yoshimi when I bought him. Since then? Not so much. Austin City Limits? Boring. Wayne, the lead singer? A bit over the top. Crowd surfing boy in the plastic bubble. Bunny suits. Freak parade. Possibly a blast live? Or am I too old for such antics?

Wilco and Cracker aside, I'm not that into live shows lately. Yet, if Beck, Weezer or Liz Phair would come to town, I'd jump at the chance to see them. Or Sparks. Or Cat Stevens (aka Yusuf Islam). Maybe because I love heaps of their songs. But the Flaming Lips?

Help!



And then there's this that sounds like Cat Stevens to me!

Ave Maria

In my quest to make 2010 the "Year in Miracles," I attended Catholic church on New Year's Day with my mom to kick-off the new year in style. Who, outside of those in Vatican circles, knew that it would be dedicated to the the Blessed Virgin Mary? Certainly not I. (Probably my mother.)

The experience made me reflect on a conversation I had over dinner with my evangelical church going, kismet girlfriends during which one friend was visibly upset about her cousin praying to the saints (given that it's a form of idolatry).

I started mulling over how we can pray directly to Christ but we often ask our friends to pray for us, too. Isn't that what Catholics are doing when saying the Hail Mary? Asking for intercession on our behalf? Pray for us sinners now and at the time of our death.

Not exactly. The difference is: they're dead.

Can the dead hear our prayers? And pray for us?

Given that I haven't the first clue about what I'm even writing here on this topic, I found a book that looked like an interesting Protestant take on the matter: The Lure of Saints: A Protestant Experience of Catholic Tradition. I've only just begun reading but, so far, it seems to be a very evenly weighted, deeply faith-based approach to the important role saints play in Catholicism tempered with some of the more troubling aspects of devotion to them.

Akin to increasing my knowledge of the faith while sponsoring my girlfriend Misty to become a Catholic a few years back, this book is leading me to a greater appreciation of my upbringing in the church. (Writing it must have done the same for the author as he has a blog called Almost Catholic and apparently joined the church in 2009.)

So, in honor of saintly trinkets, would it be in bad taste to wear this belt sold by Rochester's own Lucky Nahum at Always Get Lucky? I thought it was kind of cute and not at all sinful . . .

What I heard on the radio this morning (thank you Jennifer V!):


What I'm humming now:

Hey Mambo

When I was little, I was into all sorts of performance arts-related stuff that has since fallen by the wayside. I took summer acting classes at Nazareth College, performed in all of our school plays (including an ill-fated production of Gilbert & Sullivan's The Mikado which may explain why I hate musicals today) and took modern dance at the University of Rochester. My first dance classes, however, took place in our town's original, one-room, school house. At the end of one session, we painted sheets and put on an eclectic show for our parents. Our "art work" was later hung in a now-defunct gallery that sat alongside the canal next to the Del Monte Lodge.

Even though it is located less than a mile from our house, I was in the Mile Post School House last night for the first time in over 30 years for a cub scout meeting. It definitely took me back in time. I wanted to clear out the tables, chairs and chalk board and start dancing wildly. Thankfully, my professional sensibility and wraparound, black dress kept me in line.

At the end of the night, we learned that each parent has to conduct one cub scout meeting per year. People were stating their preferences such as, "I'll lead the Webelos Outdoorsman activity." I remained silent knowing that I have pretty much nothing to offer the group until Tommy's dad chimed in, "Hey Mrs. R., you gonna get these kids their M&A badges?"

I drove home while thinking: how did my life come to this?

I just wanna dance.

I Just Gotta Be Me

I ran across this simple quote from Annie Dillard and it made me gasp:

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Is this really how I want to spend my life?

I was speaking with a potential client last week and, at the end of our professional conversation which went extremely well, I shared a silly story with him. He politely stood up to leave and I was immediately stricken with self-doubt and loathing. I was asking myself on the drive home and well into the night, "Why did you have to add that last part?" or "Why can't you learn to keep your mouth shut?" WWSD? (Insert boss' name instead of Jesus.)

My boss and I talked about this scenario on our way home from another client in the Adirondacks late last night. She had a similar experience with him and felt much the same as I. A little comforting but it still begs the question: Am I living my life with integrity?

Am I being myself? Can I find a so-called career that better suits me? While I'm increasingly more comfortable in a stifling professional environment, I want more. Half the time, I feel like I'm pretending to be someone else.

I really do love my clients. I want them to succeed. I enjoy helping them.

But can't I do it with a hint of personality, too? Or is that unacceptable?

I just want to dance.