Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Redemption

Santus Real asked fans to record their story of redemption (based on their song, The Redeemer) on YouTube and post it to their site. I have a story that I've only shared with a few women and my husband. It's really hard to tell such a personal story in two minutes and on such a public level. To be truthful, I posted it to their site and then had a moment of panic... "What did I just do? It's not that good. Its too personal..." then, I reaffirmed myself and promised myself to blog the video here as a reassurance that, now, I can not go back! All in! *gulp*

Unfortunately, it's not one of those stories where I was on the edge of death and God pulled me off a train track two second before my left arm was to be severed by an on-coming train... however, it's my story... so here it is:





Thursday, April 14, 2011

What the ___!!

The fascination with spending hundreds of dollars on something to hold my cell phone and wallet completely alludes me. The fascination with something that looks like it was spray painted and bejewled... I don’t get it, but I always hear women commenting on other peoples handbags and ask where they got it, yada yada yada... I don’t think I have the proper mix of estrogen to really understand. After my visit to an upscale mall over the weekend, I KNOW I really DO NOT get it.


Waiting for Craig to finish giving a talk about animation to some students, I decided to find a little air conditioning at the mall. A little bored and not into the shopping thing (unusual) I was taking my time, milling. I strolled passed some upscale handbag store. The obnoxious, sparkling, oversized bags in the window did not catch my attention because I thought they were awesome; they caught my attention because I know they cost a lot and I always look at the price tags to see if I can see just how much someone is willing to shell-out for the latest fashion. Every other time I’ve looked, the tags are always flipped in discretion. To my delight (which later became my dismay) I saw one that was price-side-up. It read $2500.


Twenty-five HUNDRED dollars.


After gulping for air, I said audibly, “What the hell?!” I don’t even curse, normally, but it just slipped out, followed by, “Who the hell?!” I can not believe that someone, anyone, would spend twenty-five (freakin) hundred dollars on a PURSE! Call it a handbag or whatever you want, it holds your JUNK.


Does it give you that “falling in love” feeling every time you look at it? Does it come with a guarantee to make you lose 20 pounds? A year supply of guilt-free chocolate? Do you find an extra $50 every time you open it? Young looking for an extra 25 years? Because, for me and for twenty five hundred dollars, it better do more than just hold my stuff and make my girlfriends swoon.


How did this happen? Are we having a purse shortage that has driven up the cost? I counted five of these stores in this one mall, alone. So that does not seem the case? Was the cow that the leather came from a close and personal friend of the designer; hand fed, named and loved with a deep and devoted friendship? Did they hand stitch every stitch and lament over the life that was lost? Was it handmade my Johnny Depp? These are the ONLY conclusions that seem acceptable to me.


There REALLY are starving children in the world. There are villages that need clean water. There are kids in America that need food, people without homes, babies that need HIV vaccines to live a healthy life. How can one justify such opulence? Does it matter how much money you have? Shouldn’t there be a limit? I would be EMBARRASSED to carry around a twenty five hundred dollar handbag! I would feel like I was saying, Who cares about the starving kids and homeless people. At least I have this awesome bag to hold my lipstick!


Girlfriends, if I catch any of you carrying this bag, I’ll pour water over your head and shake some sense into you. Friends don’t let friends buy twenty five hundred dollar PURSES!


(I am pretty sure we saw Lady Gaga at the mall. No kidding. The kids laughed because you could see her butt checks when she walked because her dress was so short. She turned around and Sable and I both said, "That's Lady Gaga." Whatever.)