All The Women Independent...

We created The Independent Woman’s Association (IWA) when I was a Freshman in high school, because , as I am sure you know, one doesn’t just wakeup angsty one day-- at least I didn’t. For me, angst is genetic—it has been a part of my DNA since before I was born. When I was a child I had traditional worries like being kidnapped or experiencing the death of a parent. I also had less traditional concerns like a nagging suspicion that I was a social experiment dropped into a fake family being paid to feign some level of affection for me while scientists outside the home watched my every move through the windows of our double-wide trailer. And of course, I always, always have had plenty of worries about boys.
In first grade I was in love with my neighbor, Fred Savage. He was a fifth-grader and I worried that he would let the age difference come between us.
In third grade, there was a new boy at school who looked like an eight year old Bill Clinton—thankfully his escapades were nothing like that of the President’s, but he did have his charm. We were all head-over-heels in love with him but obviously only one of us could have him. This worried me.
In fifth grade I was the only one of my friends who did not have a “date” to the annual Country and Western Dance at my elementary school so I began to think, and this is a direct quote from my journal , that I was “ugly as a gorilla and fat as a pig”.

By seventh grade, I was certain that there had never been another individual on God’s green earth who had waited this long for a suitor and I hate to be catty but some girls who were even uglier than me were already pregnant by eighth grade. The world can really be unfair sometimes.

And when the world is unfair, we as humans have to make meaning of it all somehow—it is our only shot at angst management. So it makes sense that one day, while all of our friends were presumably busy making out with their fancy junior and senior boyfriends and as Amanda and I sat there in world geography bemoaning our single ladyness we had a shared stroke of genius.

Shouldn’t we get a little credit for this consistent demonstration of feminine independence—a lifetime achievement award of sorts? I mean for all of our able-bodied lives we had been the type of women who carried our own books, picked our own flowers, bought our own stuff and taught our own selves how to kiss (shout out to all of our old pillows and stuffed animals, btw).

Yes, we should be awarded! We should get to be just as proud of ourselves for abstaining (by default) from romantic relationships as our girlfriends who nabbed that hot tuba player or chess club vice pres.. (We weren’t the absolute coolest group in the world.) And thus the IWA was created.

The Rules:

1. Each of our girlfriends, having at one time been an independent woman can be members
2. ONLY those of us without boyfriends can hold office in the IWA
3. Offices will be determined by length of time since the candidate’s last relationship. Ex:
                      President=August Angst: No boyfriend ever
             Vice President= Amanda: Boyfriendless since Kinder
                       Treasurer= Liv Tyler, No BF since eighth grade.
                        Members= Amy , Juliette Lewis and eventually Gwyneth P.
This silly little club gave us lunchroom fodder, something to be mock-proud of when we were single and some crumb of happiness to offer each other when one of us got our heart’s broken: “Well at least you will move up in the IWA ranks,” we would say each time we heard about the dissolution of one of our friends’ relationships. It was the perfect existential expression for our teenager dilemmas.
It should come as no surprise though that as soon as Amanda and I finally got boyfriends we included rule 4.

4. Boys are allowed to me honorary members of the IWA if they are single and committed to its aims OR if they are dating one of the members.
Both of those boyfriends did turn out to be gay and everything, but at the time they did wonders not only for our confidence but for our wardrobe and hair choices as well.

Today the IWA status looks like this:

Liv, Amanda, Gwyneth- Husbands
Juliette: Divorced with Boyfriend
Amy : Cohabitating with Boyfriend
Me: Boyfriendless
And if I was still 14 or if I didn’t have some way to make meaning of it all—It might really suck. But writing for you all each week makes this time of life practically angstless. And for that reason I proudly sign this essay with my full blog name and the credentials I have worked hard (by default) to earn,

Ms. August Angst, President IWA Established: 1996

And I just decided we are now taking New Members, so if you think you meet the qualifications, please "throw yo' hands up at me" in the comments section!
Also, in the mood for something a little more serious from August Angst? Check out  my recent review of The Help on a new Spiritual Cinema Page or just click here.
K

The Problem with Prayer

A few weeks ago I visited an old church of mine, I’d say I was a member there about a decade ago. I love visiting old friends, especially those who have guided me on my faith journey, but in all honesty sometimes it gets a little awkward when a defining characteristic of the relationship is hell avoidance. Here’s why…

So I walk back into this old church-building and in almost no time the correspondence secretary has found me. She needs my new email she says so that she can add me once again to the church email prayer list. Panic Strikes! I cannot be on another prayer list I scream to myself! Then again I also have too much pride to decline, I should really pray about that pride issue, but after I only if I figure out how to get out of this prayer nightmare!!!! I subtlety survey the room just to see how many people here I even know and to determine how frequently the people that I don ’t know are going to have requests.

He looks depressed about something
She is a broken hip waiting to happen
They are probably trying to get pregnant
Those four will be going off to college soon and will leave behind panicky parents.

Email lady sensed my hesitation.

I don’t send any junkmail she assured me, no jokes, no riddles, just our prayer digests, I think she gave a time-line too like “its about once a month or once a week.” It didn’t matter because I know there is no such thing as efficient prayer digests because the nature of a request is that it is new and urgent. No one says, I won’t need any divine intervention for the next 3 weeks but pencil me in for a quick one-liner around the 18th.

I can’t tell you the number of ways I’ve tried to organize my prayer life…I’ve tried “spirit-led” aka pray for one person and then fall asleep. I’ve tried day-of-the-week-prayers where Monday is family prayer day. Tuesday is work prayer day, Wednesday is church prayer day, etc. etc. I’ve tried keeping a prayer board where I pull out the names of several people from several categories of life each day until everyone is prayed for at the end of the week. And I have tried general, “protect my family, church, friends and precarious sitcom programming from all danger.” I have disappointed myself in every one of these prayer methods.

Currently these are the prayer numbers I am working with:

Family: 24

Church Family: around 60

Ministries I work with: Around 60

Friends who don’t fit in other categories: Around 30

So what is a well-meaning, Christian girl supposed to do when someone asks her to be on their prayer team? I can tell you what I wanted to do: I wanted to say no thank you I think you guys have it covered, I already have a lot of other people to pray for and unlike that show-off God, time is limited for me, you might have thought from my chaste lifestyle that I have become a nun, I assure you this is not the case though I understand the confusion. Thank you for considering me worthy of approaching God on behalf of this group but for now I’ll pass. Please don’t make me feel like I am a devil-worshipper for responding in this way. But if you do think my soul is corrupted, maybe you could add me in with all those other requests? (Flash Adorable Smile).

And I can tell you what I actually did: “Sure, of course, How can you turn down prayer opportunities, but NO jokes right? ‘Cause I hate jokes, I just want the prayer. (Flash adorable smile)

That was 5 weeks ago, I have received 26 emails. This is the problem with prayer. Has anyone out there solved this problem? Or does everyone else just have a way better relationship with JChrizzy (Jesus’ rap name) than me? LMK.

Funny Ladies: The Best Fake Friends

You know that thing where you use all your single-lady freedom to purposefully transport all of your belongings 4 hours away from most of your friends and family, making it only logical to go ahead and get a job nearer to all of your things and then to have the mail forwarded to this new , but out of the way storage facility? Yeah, well, that’s the situation I got goin’ here right now and if you’re not prepared, it can kinda suck.  Which is why, I find It very important in times like these to have a few fictional friends on which you can rely at the end of the day when you might otherwise, were it not for their company, be found writhing around on the floor in a vat of all your old, but newly tear-stained, photos of your real-life compadres.

So, I have a sort of “sista’s are doin’ it for themeselves” television programming theme to provide these little imaginary and purgatorical friendships offering me a good laugh or cry whilst my soul is being torn between two real communities—the one that I look longingly back on and the one I look eagerly toward.

Below are my 3 most current recommendations for girl-power boxed sets sure to make you feel like you have friends you can count on even when  you’ve abandoned all your friends.

1.       Gilmore Girls

You might be thinking to yourself “didn’t that show come on the CW?” You are correct oh snobby one and I was right there with ya until I moved in with my friend Taylor Swift a few years ago. Taylor was a huge GG fan and I was a huge Swift fan so I dialed down my sense of television selection superiority only to find that this little gem of a show had stolen my heart with its small town charm, bad boy love interests  like Milo Ventimiglia and a tribute to the deep affections, mild annoyances and shades and shades of crazy that characterize intimate female relationships.  Is the witty banter a little over-the-top? Yes. Is the mother-daughter relationship a little suspect and even off-putting? Yes. Will you fall in love with the show anyway? Yes. If you give it a fair shake I think you will find that Lorelai and Rori Gilmore might just become your new, fake besties.

2.       Golden Girls  & Designing Women

I think we all know that the original girls were Golden not Gilmore and when I was a child I wanted to pattern my life after one Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women. You can catch reruns of both on lifetime if you can’t spring for the boxed set, making this the economical choice when it comes to your development of faux-friendships. But just because they are the cheapest doesn’t mean they don’t come through for a girl. You don’t think Betty White earned her fame doing Lake Placid do ya? And if you have not recently delighted in the comedic timing of Bea Arthur it is time to do so. Take a trip down eighties lane every now and again. Have fun with the ladies and see how many guest stars you can spot with old wacky hair-dos. I’m lookin’ at you Mario Lopez.

3.       Desperate Housewives

I said the day would never come.  When my sister announced that she was a fan of the show, I catapulted right onto the pedastool that I had affixed atop my high horse so that I could really do the most thorough job of looking down my nose at her. “This is exactly what is wrong with America” I screamed psychotically.  “What is soooooo desperate about being a housewife? We are all just supposed to feel sorry for the hellish existence of staying home to take care of your kids and husband? I will NEVER watch a show with such an offensive title. N-E-V-E-R.”  

Funny thing about “never”…it is probably always an overstatement when you are talking about something as inconsequential as primetime television programming.  And so, a few months ago when I was beginning  to pre-mourn my move away from  bff and landlord Laura, I started plopping down on the couch next to her despite her seeming approval of the breakdown of American society as it pertains to honoring and respecting domestic and family-centered work as a fulfilling role for women in today’s society.  As it turns out. D.H. is a beautifully written character dramedy from a fresh, unique and woman-honoring perspective.  I contend that it is more about the desperation of being human than being a wife and mother but it is well done all the same. The girls of Wisteria lane are keeping me laughing and thinking this week as I come home to an otherwise companionless space.

 So, check out these programs if you haven’t already.  Or if you still live in the same town as your gal pals have a girls night with them--celebrate one another.  Throw a party!
And if you did throw this party and invited everyone you knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from me and the card attached would say,

Thank You for bein’a Frie-eh-end.
                                        

T.G.I.S.

I hate painting walls--especially the edging, AND I am a horrible driver-- especially in vehicles that accommodate more than 4 bodies comfortably AND I avoid shopping, especially when the products are things like engineered wood and throw pillows.

In these and many other ways I am pretty much useless. And the problem with that is that I have no default…

And by default, I mean partner.
And by partner, I mean person who ultimately feels responsible for me and to me…

 I have been noticing recently how often people are on the phone with their spouses. The conversations are exhausting but beautiful, because no matter what is happening in their life, their default needs and wants to know about it.

 Toilet overflows, call your default.

 You’re thinking about going on an Alaskan Cruise? Check the dates with your default.
 Had the worst day at work and could use a shoulder rub, default at your service!

 But for me it is different because I never really know who is going to come through for me in all my plumbing, travel and “everything is going to be alright” sort of needs. There is no one on this planet for whom, I am their number one concern.

 This used to really depress me.

After all, I am the girl who, at times, finds it difficult to be in a relationship with God because I know that I am not his favorite. But recently as I have been preparing to move, I have also been noticing something else. In my defaultlessness there has been this wave of me-centered husbandry. People have:

• Put me up in their home
• Given me their furniture
• Painted my walls
• Cleaned my toilets
• Jumped up and down at my good news 
• Saved materials for me 
• Thrown me parties
• Written letters of reference  
• Bought me Stuff
• Driven four hours for me
• Prayed
• Inquired
• Toted my things from here to there, and
• Said, “Please Don’t Go.”

And all of a sudden I find myself wondering if I haven’t been misinterpreting life for all these single years. Because in this moment it seems not like God doesn’t love me enough. But rather, that his love is so abundant toward me that it wouldn’t even fit it one frail little human body ( I do like my men pretty skinny, after all). So vast are his affections toward me, it would seem, that they require an abundance of human vessels to be demonstrated appropriately. So today I am saying T.G.I.S. --Thank God I’m Single so that I might know and receive this depth and breadth of love.

And, Thank God it is Sunday, the day each week when I practice remembering to be thankful for all that I have and all that I am spared.

 So, Thank you and Happy Sunday.

Too Love or Not To Love?

So I have this beautiful, sage-ish single-lady friend who tells me that she thinks my single-lady days might be coming to a close in the not-so-distant future. I know the appropriate response is to back-handspring myself into joyous oblivion until I vomit-up and out all of the anxious and despairing remnant of singleness’ bitter footprint in my life, but the analytical side of me believes a more measured response is worth some consideration. So, here it is, my pre-emptive PRO –CON list for starting a romantic relationship should this as of yet still imaginary dream-man waltz into my life as per the prediction.


Con # 1 “Talking”

I know this term was at the time, short-lived and at present completely archaic, but it is the only term I know to describe the variable time-period of testicle less (that is me trying to church up “no-balls”) Bull-manure (I think you know what I mean) that young men put young women through as they try and decipher if they are willing to fulfill the astonishing commitments of young love including: some amount of talking on the phone, saying feelings out loud occasionally and declining to make-out with other people should the opportunity arise. These decisions take time, understandably. But, I am hoping that in the adult world this stage is pretty much bypassed. On the other hand…

Pro # 1 “Talking”

There is something to not knowing exactly where things stand. I know that makes me a horrible woman, childish even-- but how much time can you really spend wistfully analyzing a statement like, “I am completely interested in you, have no reservations about starting a dating relationship and in the appropriate amount of time I will be eager to discuss marriage which I see as a likely conclusion to this relationship.” Pardon my bawdiness, but that just isn’t very sexy. Instead, it seems that the tension between, “he loves me, he loves me not” is part of the satisfaction. Possibly even something to look forward to, so I suppose the concept of “talking” is ultimately a draw. On to the next con, then

Con #2 Listening to, Watching and Participation in “Boy Stuff”

I am just going to say it. In my opinion, sexist though it may be, a lot of boys like a lot of stupid stuff. These are things I do not look forward to when I think about committing to a dude: Video games, listening to him describe “sweet chord progressions”, camping, more video games, basketball seasons, action movies, hiking, and debates about the merits of video games. But then again…

Pro # 2 Guys are Friggin’ Hilarious.

In high school I dated a guy (kinda-sorta), we’ll call him Joe Jonas. Jonas used to leave messages on my private phone line each night. He would talk in phoney voices and say things like, “ Yeah, I’m Hiram bates down at the air-conditioner store, uh yeah I been getting a lot of complaints round your parts sayin’ that you been getting’ all heated up, bustin’ out air-conditioner units and such ‘cause of all that heat you’re putting out thinkin’ about a boy named Joe in your Spanish class.”

It was sooooo stupid.

But it made me laugh—the commitment was funny more than anything else, 3 or 4 messages in a row each far longer than they needed to be.

Then there was D.J. Qualls who I’ve mentioned before, he was famous (in my mind) for his ability to publicly and charmingly humiliate me with classic tricks like backing his butt into my and hand and then yelling with mock incredulity, “Kerri, that is wildly inappropriate . I am saving myself ma’am. Please take your hand of my left buttock, Walmart is not the place for that kind of forward behavior.”

Again, I am not saying, they are all geniuses, but a lot of ‘em seem do seem to make me giggle. So the pros have it on this one, but…

Con # 3 Single-Lady Cred

A major con that I cannot deny, when it comes to considering commitment is this: What about my persona as a single-lady-extraordinaire? This blog, for example, would take a drastic turn if I started falling-in-like. It would put me in a bit of comedic-limbo because there just isn’t a lot of funny stuff about having a boyfriend. New marriage seems pretty funny, kids are hilarious, having a boyfriend, not so much. So I kinda need to stay single for the good of my writing—this is bad news! However,

Pro # 3 Good Writing Does Come From Passion


Being in a relationship might not be particularly novel, but it does seem to bring forth a full-spectrum of emotions—and emotions create stories, which stewarding writers bring forth into the world. And, there is so much more opportunity for all manner of bringing forth within the context of collaboration. So, maybe I give up a little independent credibility for the chance at interdependent procreation. That doesn’t sound so bad, which means the scale is tipped slightly in favor of love.

But, in case the oracle is right, I should be humble enough to seek guidance on this issue. You should weigh-in. What do you think are the pros and cons of love? Desperately seeking your commentary,

Kerri

This is Why I Love Him...

Is it cliche to be a religious single gal  from Texas who writes entire blog posts about how Jesus is her boyfriend? Yes. And I am not going to do that here. Because, Jesus is not my boyfriend and even if he were, I wouldn't tell people! Because in my opinion it is somewhat creepy to get into a romantic trist with the author and finisher of your faith.

My next-door buddy Shaun White doesn't even like it when I say that hot celebrities look like Jesus because it gives him such a case of the heebie-jeebies! And I'll admit, I think that's a fair response. But I also think that he ought to admit that Russel Brand does look a heck of a lot like our bastardized approximation of the Savior and  does happen to be a Hottie Mchotterson. Same with long-haired Jared Leto and Jim Cavezal, obviously.

But, I digress

The point is, I do love Him--J.C. that is.

And I remembered why today when I ran into an old elementary school friend of mine, who I will call 4th grade Lindsay Lohan.  Li'l LiLo as I rememeber her was always small, generally over or underclothed and seemingly exhausted. One Fall she was invited to my Halloween party and I don't know if there was a miscommunication between she and her parents or what, but I do remember that I could hear them screaming at her over the phone and that she seemed genuinely afraid to go home. But home she had to go, and we all had to share in her embarrassment as we drove up to her dilapidated, dirty only house only to leave her with an equally dilapidated, dirty old man whose tone had not softened one iota by the time we got there.

If I ever hung out with Li'l Lilo again, I can't recall it. Then she seemed to disappear in middle and highschool and though I never had proof that she was being abused I always worried and wondered as I passed her house on the street. A couple of years ago they tore the house down and I thought, "Poor Lindsay, she didn't have a chance at anything good in life."

Fast Forward to the Drive-Through at Bushes Chicken this afternoon where I see her for the first time in at least 12 years. She is driving a mini-van with a little girl in the front seat who is beautiful, reminscent of her mother and appears perfectly clothed and rested.  "Lindsay", I say " I think of you every time I pass your house from when we were little and I wonder how you are doing." I am trying to hide the terror in my voice that is actually saying "I see your old house and I weep because I was too young to know how to help you escape that hellish existence that I got a glimpse of." But she seems to know what I mean. "Things are really good", she assures me. "My husband was the pastor of  a church out of town for a while but now we are back here at New Life." 

How Fitting.

Listen, I know that going to church or being a pastor's wife doesn't mean that life is perfect. But I thought Lohan would be dead, strung-out or prostituting the next time I saw her. Instead she was casually purchasing chicken, being a mom and participating in groups like "You May not like me but Jesus thinks I'm to Die for". (Yes,I Facebook Stalked her). That scared little girl who I say a prayer for every so often is ok. Saved even! Not just in the next life, but in this one.

This is why I love Him.

Not because he is my pretend date or looks anything like one Mr. Katy Perry.  But because he offers to Lindsay and to me:

Hope.
Rescue.
New Life, Indeed.

And you?  What percentage of your (assumed) affection toward Jesus has to do with hotness and what percentage derives from something substantive like that touching story that I just recalled? Its not a contest or anything, but your soul might be in danger if you answer incorrectly.

Grandma Buzzkill Hates Hangover!

Grandma Buzzkill is a nickname I gave myself a few years back when I was desperately trying to convince my small-group to avoid the hookah smoking. I sent them all an email about the dangers associated with this "harmless" passtime and immediately acknowledged my own twenty-something octogenarianness. I can't help myself, I was born with an interesting marriage of child-like frivolity and uptight prudishness and it can be hard to know which one will win out in any given situation. As I was writing the movie reviews that I hinted at last week it was apparent that it was a GB kind of day. So be forewarned, the following are my honest but at times old-ladyish opinions about the world of film today. Here goes!

Something Borrowed:
If you love adultery and think we have not done enough to promote it in this country, then you will love Something Borrowed. It does everything possible to communicate to its audience that ultimately you should just take what you want regardless of the implications for other people. Look, I believe that art is all about perspective and I deeply appreciate a filmmaker who forces me to consider something empathically,which would typically be outside my capacity for grace; but this movie didn't really do that. And it's a shame, because the first three quarters of the film is hilarious, particularly due to the work of one Mr. John Krasinski. (Yes, he is the same dorky, boy next door character who we are supposed to believe struggles with the ladies.) Rent it if you want a laugh or are writing a paper entitled how-to become an awful  human who uses his or her own former disempowerment as an excuse for their current relational aggression. However, as an editing note, I might suggest a shorter title.

Bridesmaids
My biggest fear going into this movie was that it was going to be a bunch of women trying to one-up their (male) comedic competition with feats of vulgarity. Happily, that was only the case once or twice. I really liked this movie and considered it to be just a few depressing songs away from being an interesting indie flick commenting on the grief we each work through in all of the many non-death losses we experience throughout our lives.Kristen Wiig is very funny and relatable in this role and the writing does an excellent job of exposing, diseccting and celebrating female relationships in lots of silly and serious ways. There is a lot of  "taking it to the limit" in this movie which is how my friends and I used to describe letting a joke go on and on in order to milk every last laugh out of it. I happen to like a joke that requires a bit of endurance, so that was delightful for me as well. My only crochety caution for this movie is SPOILER ALERT : the first scene is unnecessarily raunchy and being someone who believes that it degrades us to watch other humans having sex, even for a laugh, I think you could easily go into this movie 3 minutes late, keep a little dignity for yourself and not miss any important content other than the dude is a selfish jerk.

The Hangover Part II
It pains me to say it people. I just want to be clear here and admit that I watched the original Hangover three times in the theater, and several times on DVD after purchasing it. However, part 2 just did not cut it. It wasn't very good. Zach Galifinakis seemed to have more lines and I was less annoyed with Mr. Cho now that I have fallen in love with him on Community. But other than that the movie was actually kinda boring. My BFF pointed out that it seemed more fragmented this time, it also seemed to have less urgency and also less Bradley Cooper in a suit. Why in God's name would you make a movie that is the exact same as the original in practically every way only to omit a Bradley Cooper in a suit scene? Doesn't make no sense. Never will. Also, surprise-surprise, I thought it was too vulgar and I didn't even stay for the credits which I hear is the worst part.

So, there is the movie-world according to Grandma Buzzkill. Hope it will be of help to you in your movie selection and rejection process. What do you all think? Am i right? Am I 87? Do you have any movie commentary you would like to provide? Comments Section!

Kerri