Posts filed under ‘Faith’
Like the photo? It’s a photo of the interior of one of the suites of the infamous Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan. It will make more sense as you read on, hopefully.
Yesterday I went to my knitters and crocheters group and worked some more on the my dog is dead blanket. The knitters and crocheters group is something that I know I’m going to increasingly look forward to the more time I spend with them. These women are smart and funny, and they make things, cool things.
One young woman who was surely in her early twenties was making crocheted “food.” She made a strawberry and an apple slice while we were sitting across from each other. She pulled out some sushi and sashimi from her bag. She turns them into keychains and sells them on the internet, which doesn’t make her any money but does pay for her hobby.
“This is the shrimp,” she said, holding up a wrinkled piece of pink and white yarn. The tech writer, besides making little caps for premature babies, is now making the tiniest of baby bibs. I kinda wonder what preemie babies need bibs for, but they’re cute. Maybe they’re for baby dolls.
Then I went to Lubbock’s and hung out. She’s not very technologically adept, to put it mildly, and she couldn’t figure out how to post an ad on Craigslist to sell her vehicle. The last time I saw her we spent time watching Tosh.0 and trying to figure out if Tosh is gay or not. I’ve decided not. Then she had me show her how she could tell if her iPhone was using wifi or if it was accessing the 3G network for her carrier. I always just assume that people can figure out how to do things like this, but every once in a while I’m forced to acknowledge that not everyone knows these things.
I love Lubbock. She might not know how to post an ad on Craigslist, but she knows how to make a kick ass dinner and a kick ass latte. And she has impeccable taste in books and movies. She loaned me a book written by Patti Smith about Robert Mapplethorpe. I totally love that I know someone who would buy a book by Patti Smith about Robert Mapplethorpe. I totally love that I know someone who knows who Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe are. I would marry her if she were a man.
Speaking of love, I remembered what one of the Mr. Brewsters had said about doing something nice for someone else on Valentine’s Day, and I have a neighbor friend who is a dedicated single mother. I think she’s going to have a secret admirer this Valentine’s Day. I bought the cutest little dancing heart monster from Target. It sings, “You Got What I Need.” I’ll pick up some chocolates and a card and hopefully make someone happy. I’m kind of looking forward to it in the same way that I wish I could actually see the look on some woman’s face when she gets the finished my dog is dead blanket.
This morning I got up and went to church again. It’s the second time I’ve been. I think I liked it even better this time. It’s growing on me. The dog was back, something I was happy about. I met the blogger whose work I like so much, Julie Clawson, and I got to introduce myself. I don’t think the stalker chick routine scared her too much.
But actually, my favorite part of church this morning was that I initially sat down next to this woman who was wearing a Pucci pattern dress and struck up a conversation with her. It turns out that she’s new to Austin and the editor of a trade magazine. I didn’t tell her I was interested in writing for a living. I just listened to her talk about her life for a while. She needed an ear to listen, and it was nice to be able to provide that for her.
I did get to finally have coffee with the head of the editorial department at my workplace. And I found out where he sees his department going and what kinds of writers he’s looking for. I asked him what I needed to do to be considered for a position in his department should one become available, and his answer was to do some freelance writing. Apparently, he wants writers who have been published. Really? Somehow, that seems so unfair.
Actually, that’s my idea of sarcasm. Austin is a city full of professional artists, writers and musicians, academics, and future filmmakers, as well as the best of the best in terms of the semiconductor industry and visual graphics. The point is that he has his pick. I got my foot in the door, and I impressed him enough to get a coffee date, but it would show a huge sense of entitlement on my part to think that a seven hundred word writing sample alone will qualify me over more pedigreed individuals for a job that doesn’t yet exist. I want a highly coveted position, so I’m going to have to bring it. The thought intimidates me, but I know it can be done. I just have to make an effort. And if my recent experience is any indication, there are a lot of smart, competent women out there who just might be willing to lend their expertise to mentoring me towards my goal, but first I have to cultivate those friendships.
So, this weekend I took my granny squares and met up with a group of people who meet every other week at the Central Market to knit and crochet. I now have 97 out of 100 granny squares completed. When I get done with the 100 squares I have to crochet a black border around each one and then sew them together. I anticipate that I may be done sometime between now and the year 3000.
I wasn’t sure what I expected out of the group exactly, maybe a bunch of old biddies or a group of soccer moms. Neither was true. It was a pretty large group. There must have been at lease eight or nine people there. There were even two men.
We looked at pattern books and ate cookies and worked on our projects and talked. The lady who sat on my right was a technical writer who lived within walking distance of my house. The one on my left was a crochet guru who worked for a library. The woman directly across from me was from Oklahoma, and she teaches composition and rhetoric at a local university. The woman to her left was a former high school English teacher and a former Christian educator. And the two men were mos. Could the group have been more tailored made for moi? I don’t see how.
We talked about the news, its quality or lack thereof. The tech writer and I talked about the zoning plans for our respective neighborhoods and how sad it was that the area was destined to be Downtown: The Sequel. This means that it’ll be all vertical multi-use with outrageously high rents. In twenty years, they’ll have stripped this neighborhood of its poor and its minorities as well as its character. It will be homogenized, pasteurized, pristine, pretty, progressive, and predominantly white. It’ll also be pricey. I was glad that someone else besides me found that sad.
The tech writer was an African American woman, and when the subject of marriage and children came up, and I said that I thought marriage and children were both wonderful things but that I was tired of being made to feel less of a woman if I didn’t experience them, she said something profound. She said, “I have two grown children and a grandbaby. I’ve been married and divorced twice. All I ever wanted to be was That Girl. You know, like Marlo Thomas. Just a cute little career girl with a steady boyfriend.” Funny how you never think about the grass being greener.
We talked about writing and reading. We talked about grammar and novels. The meeting started at 2 and didn’t break up until nearly 5. Afterward, I went to the Mr. Brewsters for enchiladas and to see baby Punky.
I had intended to try a new church this weekend, but I didn’t get my nerve up and procrastinated instead, staying in bed under the covers and reading issues of The New Yorker. However, I did go to the church building on Sunday afternoon and drive by the outside so I would know how to get there for next week. I consider that progress.
I think I found a church that might fit with my particular brand of theology. I think I found some place where they might not think of homosexuality as a sin and where gays might be welcome to worship without being given the cold shoulder or the love the sinner speech. It’s small, and it’s close. The website talks about their commitment to service.
I like the Presbyterian church my landlords go to except that it’s all money. They pour most of their resources into buildings and programs designed to fill the needs of the church members and very little money comparatively into service and missions. Austin Stone is committed to missions, and they’re close now. I like the people who worship there, but that church is a member of the Southern Baptist Conference. I’m going to be pretty diametrically opposed to some of their theology. Plus, I’m pretty certain you’ll never see any gay or lesbian couples filling the pews at either of those churches.