Tired of the Effort

At the Sbux company picnic Friday afternoon, corporate decided that it would bond us if we were given the opportunity to play a single-elimination style kickball tournament against other districts. Whether that worked or not is debatable, but one observation of the whole experience was the need for each district's team to separate out as unique entities, each with a unique twist on a uniform. For my team (the West Side Green Socks), we all wore ugly yellow promotional shirts with green soccer socks and neon green bandannas. Beyond just separating out as a district, we also individually separated out with our own personal twist on the uniform, which probably speaks somewhat to the type of people Sbux hires, but that's not the point. Anyways, since my ugly yellow shirt was an extra large, I decided to tie it in a knot on my back and roll up the sleeves. With the neon green scarf, I noticed that a lot of the other girls were tying them around their hair or waists, so I decided that making a scarf around my neck would be the more "individual" approach. After I had completed this warm-up for the game one of my favorite co-workers commented to a friend about how cute I looked and something to the effect of how she was envious because looking that way for me seemed to be effortless.

The point of highlighting this encounter is not to brag about looking "cute" during a silly kickball game. I think what I've been reflecting about her comment is that I consider my image, whatever it is, to be all but "effortless". In fact, I feel like I put quite a bit of effort into trying to uphold a certain appearance and most of the time, I feel like I fall far short of the image that I try to portray. It seems no matter where I am, that there is always another girl (or 2 or 20) dressed better, with nicer accessories, prettier hair, a nicer figure etc. We woman spend so much time comparing our look to those around us that I think we are completely oblivious to the "look" that we ourselves put forward. My best friend in college would wear a t-shirt with jeans and a pony tail to a social event and turn every guy's head as she walked by. It was obvious to all of us around her, but really I don't think she ever had a clue. In fact we would go home and she and I would complain about how hopeless we felt to ever find a date among girls who were much more fashionably dressed. She's very happily married now so her story ends well at least, but I know she still struggles with some of the same insecurities that she did in college. For some reason I don't think her husband minds that she doesn't always follow the latest trends in her clothing. He probably minds more that she deals with insecurities about her looks (which is absolutely beautiful by the way).

I've always assumed that the awkwardness of female body image would fizzle throughout life, and aided by a loving husband and priorities around a family, would no longer be a forced issue. The lady that made the "effortless" comment about me, though, is one of the women I respect most at work and someone who certainly has a strong relationship with her husband and children. She also radiates "effortless" beauty all of the time. I've always recognized that in her and I think most of my co-workers would agree. From this comment I think she probably hasn't grown out of the need to compare and I have a feeling probably never will. That is something that seems to be true to the female gender unfortunately. I have grown up watching my mom stress about her hairstyle and she does it just as much now in her 50's as she did when she was 30. As women, no matter what age, we seem to be really caught up with the few imperfections we see reflected in the mirror every morning rather that the overall fact that for the most part, women at any age can be beautiful no matter what degree of effort is included in the morning routine, or in my case, the pre-kickball warm up. It saddens me to think that I, and my friends, and my mom, and my co-workers, will deal with this for the rest of our earthly lives.

I Need Everything But Whole

Global Perspective. My church stresses the importance of it during nearly every service now. I work for a company which does really good things for the communities that source America's dependence on caffeine. My friends, for the most part, value it and I rarely will even consider dating a guy that doesn't desire to live completely in service to it. Yet why in my life is money still an issue and a stress? I worry that I don't have enough to pay for my upcoming adventures overseas. I worry that I cant afford a health care bill should something happen that my insurance wont cover (thanks a lot Michael Moore) or a new car the next time mine breaks down in the middle of an intersection. I worry that I need some new winter clothes and don't have the money to follow through with this season's fashion trends, whatever they might be.

And then I talk to friends who live elsewhere and experience poverty first hand. The real kind of poverty. Not what we think of when we consider "poverty" in the U.S. where any income is at the very least, income. I visit websites like http://www.globalrichlist.com/ and reality begins to come back into focus again.

A few months ago I found some 1,000 dollar shoes in Cherry Creek once and I remember being really pissed off. First because there even exists such a thing as 1,000 dollar shoes and then because there was some deep dark hidden recess of my id that kinda wanted them. They were actually quite ugly so I'm not really sure what intrigued me about them. Though my parents are amazingly humble people in proportion to their income bracket, I guess I was still raised in suburban Denver so expensive taste and the desire to appear more affluent than is actually calculated in my bank account comes somewhat natural. Anyways, I also hate my car. But what I really hate is that I hate my car. It's a piece of shit really, but it still runs from point 'a' to point 'b' quite nicely and I don't really have to pay for anything on it, at least every month, so I should be grateful for the freedom from one more bill, right? After all, most people in this world don't even have a car. Or maybe more accurately....most people in this world have freedom from a car.

The assistant pastor at my church so aptly pointed out this week that many of us, especially those of us still living on wages, read all of the passages in which Jesus rants and scathed the rich for their love of money and stand back and say "get 'em Jesus!" We think he's talking to Sam Walton, the Olsen twins, Bill Gates, and Oprah. Really though, when we take on a truly Global Perspective isn't Jesus actually directing his words right at you and at me? Right at me because of my piece of shit car and because I can consider a new trendy shirt or two when so much of the world can't even claim two shirts for their entire wardrobe. So why is it so hard to maintain a Global Perspective when surrounded by 1000 dollar shoes? My answer would be because maintaining perspective would necessitate a Global Responsibility. One that is completely counter-cultural, frightening and shall be the subject of my next few blogs.

Encounters at a Vitamin Cottage

Internal dialogue: Wow. He's totally my type. Thin, looks like a runner, tall, about 30. Yep, definitely my type. No ring. I should say something. He's looking at vegetables, maybe I'll just walk over and see if he notices. Ohmigosh he looked right at me and smiled. Let's see if I can bait him into a conversation by looking at these grapes. Nothing. Damn. Time to bail. But I have to take the grapes or it will just seem too obvious. I didn't really want grapes, but I'm in this far....

(a few minutes later on the "nuts" aisle...he's walking past me again with an armload of broccoli to put in his basket)

Internal Dialogue: What's your sign? (no that's stupid) What's your name? (too lame) Do you make six-figures? (too "Denver") I spent today upside down in a pool on a kayak. (too obvious)
External Dialogue: You're smart.
Him: What?
Internal Dialogue: Shit.
External Dialogue: You're carrying around a basket while I'm stuck juggling all of this.
Him: (insert something nice and witty that I'm not really sure of because I'm too nervous to truly listen)
External Dialogue: Haha. Well see ya' later.
Internal Dialogue: Right. I'm never going to see this guy ever again in my life. I'm such a pansy.

Why is it that we know our "type" from a mile away? Why do we even "type" people in the first place? I'm pretty sure this guy and I would have worked, but I'm not really sure why I know that. Obviously, I'm single, so I've been very wrong about this before and spent plenty of time chasing after the wrong "type," but for some reason I just know what I want. I just don't know exactly how to go about obtaining it.

Not A Puller

I'm not an athlete. Not at all. My first season playing A league ultimate was tough. Though physically I could keep up (most of the time), mentally the pressure got to me in the end. We were such a good team, seeded number two going into the tournament. We had high hopes of winning it all.

It's the semi-finals game and our teams are tied with the next scoring team advancing to finals. It's my turn to check into the game to play the point and I look down the sidelines at all of the people who have gathered to watch and cheer. I look at my teammates. The intensity has amplified during the past few scores because of the growing crowd. Most of them played club in college (and now) so they know how to handle the pressure. My heart rate, on the other hand, races and I start to feel light headed. I have a vision of dropping the disc (really bad) and then a vision of letting the girl I'm suppose to guard score (really, really bad). Now that I've imagined it, its destined to happen so I ask my teammate to go in for me. She's an athlete, so she checks in. Thank goodness. No pressure on me. I wont lose it for us all and eliminate us from the tournament. I can breathe again.

Then my teammate pulls. The disk goes out of bounds just a few feet from the end zone never to return and the other team makes an easy score to end the game. I didn't lose it for us, someone else did. And I realize that it's really not his fault. The whole game cant be summed up just with one bad pull. He was willing to go up in front of the crowds and test his skills. We didn't win, which stings, but it's probably not going to have the eternal consequences I was fearing just moments ago. Next season, I'm hoping for a different story. Next season, I'm hoping to catch the winning point.