Saturday, January 29, 2005

He's got a girl named Jane with no last name....

This blog site will not become a running commentary on Wash U basketball, I swear, but the B-dawgs pulled off a huge win tonite, putting them in a three way tie for first in the UAA conference. Rock on.

I got rebuked yesterday. Shelly Carson called me out for making fun of this girl who was playing soccer the other nite. Well playing, is a strong word, she was kinda just standing around, but regardless, she was everything I would not be at that point in time. And I railed her for it. It wasn't cool at all, I was a putz, and I am glad Shelly was there to bring me back to reality. Cause as a child of God I am supposed to know that words matter, and words can give life, and they can steal. Why on earth would I choose to tear down and be funny, when I could build up. I'll tell you why, to be cool. What the? Who? Crap. Crap. Crap.

Yeah Jesus still loves me even though I'm a total pile of dust, and on my good days I give no credit to the God that has saved me, shaped me, streched me, and guided me, cause, you know, I, Lindsey freakin Merril have it under control.... But on my bad ones, there is such a blaring awareness of my lack of innate goodness, that I am ashamed, and I look up at the sky as if to say, I bet you wish you crawled down off that cross when you had the chance, cause the betterment of your kingdom and this earth was left in fleshy hands like mine that you gave free will to. What were you thinkin?

Those are not good extremes to live in. Because I know from scripture that there is no condemnation in Christ, and I also know that every good and perfect gift has come from his hands. All my gifts and talents are on loan for an unspecified amount of time to bless or curse the world with.

Yeah, Ray Stevens repertoire... that's probably cursing the world...gotta cut that out...who sings Gitarzan at the noon hour in the Happy China Buffet?

Must choose... Must choose blessing. What on earth? This world doesn't need anymore people being critical and harsh, they need people giving grace and encouragement. My job doesn't need another cynic, it needs someone willing to take chances and fail but to have tried just the same. Gosh isn't that what we lack? People willing to lay down their rights to jaw and taking up their rights to live well.

Speaking of cursing...As I was mimicking Brittany Spears tonite at the Trainwreck, my co-worker Jill looks at me and says "And you're single?" Yes.. yes I am..

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

29 Points?

Tonite in my basketball league, we had ten players, seven former Washington University alumni with ten national championship rings between us, we have all played together at various overlapping points in our careers, and we scored 29 points in a full length game, un believably sub par,... but we only gave up 23...

Even though we didn't make a stellar showing, it was still good to play with the girls again, Shiny, Ange, Neety, Mary, Sparty, Sue-bear and me, L-dawg..

In college, almost all of us had nicknames. They were usually terms of endearment: Thumper, Sully, Super Hoots, Crowbar, Captain Stuby of the Crossover brigade, Sloth, Swiss Cheese, The Retarded Rabbit, POY, POY squared, POY cubed, Lester B. Hopps, Willard, Bam, Kiefer (as in Kiefer Sutherland of the Lost Boys), Mach 10, Mach 13, Shine, Shinifer, Shinerbach, Spoonerbach, Spoony, Rudy, Schmabby, Nuby Eyeburger, (yes these are ALL real...), Ottner, Bolan, E-Ha, E-nookie, Feckster, Linz-Linz, L, Beltones, Hook-in-the-ear, Blobbin, Harvard, Mona, The Special Olympian, KJ, Spoo, Nanner, BC...

People at my job don't have nicknames. It' s a tragedy really, But maybe I'll give them some. Long face, Halletosis, MIT/NHL, Jeff the Chef, The "B", Short Cute Phillipino Girl, Everything-on-my-desk-is-at-right-angles-man, 'Bama, Silent Smart Engineer Guy(that would go to multiple people), Everyones Favorite Canadian, The Whitest Black Guy I know, Grumpy, Grandpa, Never in the office man, hmm probably couldn't make them stick....

Monday, January 24, 2005

Ode to Linda Jean

Today my project manager took us all out for a great lunch at Bristols, which is home to my all time favorite meal, almond encrusted costa rican tilapia on a bed of rice pilaf, smothered in fresh berries, served with asparagus and a yummy sweet/salty sauce that I can't identify. Oh man. I could die very happy.

To top it all off there is the memory of a dinner eaten there for my birthday that included my good pals in a private corner room with a painting of a fig-leaved naked lady draped over a keg, wine glass hoisted high in the air.

It looked like Mark's mom, Linda Jean.

Today, we also had a private room, with yet ANOTHER naked lady watching us eat, only this time she was a mermaid and decidedly NOT Linda Jean.

5 out of 8 co-workers also ordered almondencrustedcostaricantilapiawithfreshberries. Yeah, they know what's up.

If you are ever in St. Louis, you should try this dish, it's unbelievable, your taste buds will dance and sing.

Is This Thing on?

Tap tap tap.. What is it with people who like to hear the sound of their own voice? Don't you think that quality overrides quantity anyday? Sometimes I just tune out, which is totally rude, I know. But what recourse have I? Tell me something interesting. Be creatively concise with it and I'll hear you better. When you ramble, it doesn't make you look smart, it makes me wonder why you feel the need to BS your way through life. In college, technical writing class taught me that when you are trying to convey important information you make it EASY to absorb. Lawyers bury stuff in tiny text that you dont want to read anyway, and they know it, that's the point. You gloss over it, and sign the dotted line and bam you have just unknowingly shipped your left kidney to Outer Mongolia. Please people, cut to the chase, get to the point, stop trying to feign intelligence, if you want to ramble, as I am doing right now, get a dog... or a blog...

Saturday, January 22, 2005

This Just In

From Brother Murl...

What do you call a camel with no humps?


Hee hee...

Gates of Fire

I was watching The Last Samauri last night, which is a highly underrated movie, in my humble opinion, and Tom Cruise's character made reference to the battle of Thermopylae (pronounced: Thermopoly). It brought back to my memory one of the best books I've ever read, called Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield. So apparantly, this was quite a famous battle, and maybe if I had attended a school that had the Spartan as their mascot, I'd have known this bit of history, but alas, I was a blackcat (yes all one word) and I had never heard of it.

For those of you who were tigers or whippets or bears, this is the story. The Persian army was invading Greece with 2 million soldiers and the Greek city states sent 7000 men and 300 Spartan elite to the narrow mountain pass at Thermopylae ('the hot gates') to buy some time for the Greek armies to rally. A traitor informed the Persians about another way around this mountain pass. They planned to encircle the vastly outnumbered men, but the good guys got wind of this plot, the Greeks retreated and the Spartans held the narrow pass with 300 men for days. It bought enough time enough for the Greeks to retreat, and the rest of the Greek army to assemble and gather strength to eventually defeat the Persian invasion and protected the birthplace of western culture as we know it.

There are rumors of a movie being made from this book and it' s going to star George Clooney, but I wish they would come to their senses and cast Joaquin Phoenix...

Anyway.. this book made me cry. Rarely does a book do that.

More Anne Lamott

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox, full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools — friendships, prayer, conscience, and honesty — and said, Do the best you can with these. They will have to do. And mostly, against all odds, they're enough,"

Wow, when God suprises

Sometimes you feel like an idiot when you finally realize the footprints poem is so dead on. That when we think we are most alone, most terrified, that those are indeed the times that the Lord carries us. That sometimes he will blow your mind with joy when you only expect pain. That if only you let go of the idol that you cling to, he will replace it with Himself, and that is Good. Do I believe that? Heck yes, I do.

Grace is the light, or electricity or juice, that takes you from that isolated place, and puts you with others who are as startled, and embarrased and eventually as grateful as you are to be there. --- Anne Lamott

Thursday, January 20, 2005

People I Want to Be Like

Melinda Smith got flowers today at our office... from a client...just for doing such a fantastic job for them on their project. She is someone I watch. She does things right, never assumes, and always is humble even when she is right and someone else is wrong. She is professional always and does her job with integrity, which is actually pretty hard to do, and rare to find. Way to be Melinda.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

To Blog or not to Blog

So... I have a blog. I'm sort of a mix of ashamed and pumped.

I have a blog.

I even know what "blog" stands for.
It's short for WEBLOG. Eh? Eh?

I'm a freakin Pro. Here goes nothin.