Date-ology

I've just discovered this awesome counselor-Dr. Cloud-through this book my brother recommended, "How to Find a Date Worth Keeping." He's so real. So not like a lot of christians out there. Not to sound bitter or anything. But sometimes I think we as christians don't know what to think, so we take an overly "spiritual" view of things-hoping to be on the safe side. But this guy is sound. Check it out.

Is it Just Me?

Is it just me, or does this Imus controversy seem to be more about the "racial double standard" than the fact that he said some really terrible things. I mean, there's a difference between free speech and talking about racial issues and making derogetory remarks.
A more thorough column is coming-as soon as I get my thoughts together...What do you think?

Tax Season

Uggh! Depressing...Have to come up with money I don't have to pay the government "what I owe." Give me a break!
Maybe they'll take blood. If I'm lucky. At least blood regenerates itself. Money just disappears.

Freedom Found in a Little Black Dress

Yes, it's true. I was liberated from heart break by a flirty little black dress. How can that be, you ask? Well, I'm glad you did.
On a shopping whim with a roommate last year, I splurged on a completely irresponsible and unecessary, yet totally adorable-translation must have-dress. And being that I had no occassion to where this little number-keeping with the "unecessary"theme-it sat in my closet for much of that year. Occassionally, I'd take it out, try it on, admire myself in it (embarrassingly admitted), and hang it back up.
You see, I decided this dress should be saved for a date with Mr. Heart, aka longtime crush, on whom I hoped my charms, nudges, hints, and all out pursuit of would win. Yet, as the days passed as usual and the phone sat silently misplaced, the Cinderella inside protested, "Where, oh where is the ball? When will Prince Charming come? And more importantly, will I ever be invited?" Not only did I want to be rescued from the drudgery of everyday life; I was hoping for the beauty inside of me to be revealed and cherished by the man I loved. The dress was the means to feeling that beauty, but it meant nothing without Mr. Heart's appreciation. "All dressed up and nowhere to go," is the old cliche that, oddly enough, rings true here.
So...it's not like the fairytales. My life did in fact go on. I did what I suppose anyone else would do. Packed up, moved on-literally-but I kept that dress. I even wrote a poem about it. I navigated my way through the stages of grief:denial (it might still happen), sadness (it's never gonna happen with this guy), anger (why didn't he like me?!), and acceptance (hey, it's not gonna happen and I'm ok). Although, I sometimes waiver between denial and what I like to call hope: It might by some remote chance still happen, but I'm gonna live my life.
And in keeping with that theme, a girlfriend called me the other night and invited me to go swing dancing. I went to my closet, went straight for that little black dress, and was the belle of my own ball. It felt great! Maybe it wasn't such a frivilous purchase after all.