Acceptance

Last week was the first service for the teen/college aged kids at our church. My husband and I were enlisted to be members of the band to start things off. Eventually, I think the goal is to pass as much of the visible leadership off to the kids, but for now we’re it.

Saturday night my husband innocently asked me if I had heard the bass line for a song called “Invitacion Fountain” that Michael Pritzl wrote. The CD had a version I hadn’t heard before and when I heard what the bassist was playing I freaked out. Not that I couldn’t play what the guy was playing (not that I’d want to…) but if our worship leader had wanted me to play what was on the CD he should have told me before 10 pm on the Saturday night before we were going to play.

Being the hyper-emotional woman I am, I continued my freak-out in pure Lexi style by yelling at my husband, asking him why he didn’t let me know earlier so I could sit down and learn the bass line from the CD, snatching the CD from the stereo, smashing it into my Tascam Portable CD Bass Trainer and attempting to find the A/C adapter in a less-than graceful manner.

Too much clamor over a stupid bass line, right? I agree. After I slammed the door to figure out what I was going to do about this, I started writing. Guess what? It wasn’t about the bass line. It was about me (big surprise, eh?). Me and my insecurities. Me and my self-perceived un-worthiness to play in front of a bunch of image-centric teens & twenty-somethings. Me and my un-cool two white hairs.

I never said I wasn’t self-centered. Self-deprecating self-centeredness is a specialty of mine. While I was writing down my feelings, sorting through the mess, getting over the issue of the bass line, I realized I felt insecure – afraid of what those kids would think of me, a 27 year old geek playing bass trying to act cool.

That’s when I realized it’s not about me. It never was about me, and it never will be about me. The reason I’m playing is not to glorify myself, the music, or the band. It’s to worship God. If anything else comes of it – great! But my primary goal in playing on the band on Sunday nights is to play music to praise my Creator. That’s it.

Unfortunately I make things too complicated.

And Sunday night went wonderfully. God showed up and changed a girl’s life forever. There was major partying going on for the salvation of one more of God’s kids!

Could I be a writer?

I’ve finished a first draft of an article for the relevant magazine web site based on my Love Songs post. It’s been an idea that’s been in the back of my mind ever since I wrote that blog entry, and I thought it was about time to get a move on it. I’ve focused more on my problem with expectations and tied in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7…

So today was my first “writing” day at work. I had to write a tech update to inform our radio stations on the new features of their Rewards/Promotions platform. All very techy stuff. Bob (one of my bosses) likes it, now time for the CEO to take a gander and wait for his approval.

That was probably the impetus that got me writing the first draft of my full “Love Songs” article.

Look who’s got a jobby!

I’ve re-joined the full-time workforce – and I don’t have to sit in traffic for hours on end. PlanetJam Media Group is where I find my new place of employment, in a thoroughfare office. I’m attempting to ward off would-be pedestrians from cutting through MY office by placing my desk within mere feet the first door and shutting the second. Yet higher-ranking folk in this office, one in particular, feels it’s their right to tramp on through.

It’s my third day on the job and I must say that it doesn’t feel like work. My first assignment was making a blog using TypePad for the CEO which will be linked here as soon as it’s online. My second was creating two site skins (aka color scheme/design) for clients.

I’m a generalist by nature. I hate clichés, but this one fits “Jack of all trades, master of none”. Every time I try to focus on perfecting one thing or another, I end up getting sidetracked, bored or frustrated. So this job is a pretty decent fit. I’m doing the web stuff I enjoy and the other part of my job is writing – corporate communications, newsletters, copy for the web sites. Not sure how this is going to translate into stress levels just yet, but we’ll see.

bloggin’ like a maniac

I’ve been thinking of this past weekend. My band (er… our band – no name just yet) went to Alabama to play at a church outreach. The lead singer’s dad is a pastor of a 10 or so member church and asked us to provide the worship music.

The 3 hour drive to Huntsville was pretty silly – our drummer is a college senior, our van-driver (borrowed from his dad who’s a Cajun Magic Seasonings distributor), and other two tag-alongs are college freshmen & sophomores (only 2 girls in a caravan of 7 folks). And we had walkie-talkies. Much hilarity…

Before we got to the park to set up, we were told that a “rap group” was going to play across the lake. We were a little miffed but when we got there, the pastor found out that it was a GOSPEL group and invited them to come over and sing a bit.

We played some tunes, took a break from the sweltering heat, and the gospel choir came over. We played 2 more songs and then the Gospel choir sang.

What struck me was that God brought us all together. Us hard-rockin’ white folk with the soulful black Gospel choir. And we all loved each other. Each one of us knew the other’s music was fully inspired – each one of us praised God for the opportunities we were given to recieve the blessings of God through voices & instruments. We worship the same God, we love the gifts he’s given us, and we want to use them to His glory.

The pastors all agreed to do this again – on a larger scale, and the band was invited back. We were asked to play at a youth outreach in a few months as well.

With the food we had for ourselves, we fed some of the homeless that were living in the park. One of us tried to convince a drunk that he was loved – by us and by God. I want to see more. I want to do more. I know I should be careful what I ask for, but this is THE STUFF. This is what Jesus did. He met people’s needs. He loved them and truly cared for them.

We dedicate this band to Your service, God. Do with us as You will.

Hi, my name is Lexi and I make funny faces when I play bass.

The kid who drove his dad’s van for our PA equipment to Alabama this weekend came up to me after the show and said “You know, you make some really funny faces when you play.”

I don’t know what to do about that.

I feel the music & my body just moves… which includes my facial muscles. I watched the video of the show and I was a little shocked. I do make funny faces… and it’s not “cool” – I look like a dweeb. My facial contortions come mainly in the form of biting my lower lip, sticking out my tongue – which I do anyway when I’m deep in thought, or scrunching up my face.

I mean, there are some songs that when I hit that groove… no telling what I’ll do.

I’m officially self-conscious.

Is there an etiquette book for female bass players?

“Women who play the electric bass guitar should never move around the stage. They must always be conscious that others will be looking at them and must compose themselves in a ladylike manner. Facial contortions are definitely unacceptable, as they are truly atrocious and will mar the face of any proper lady.”

I’m not quite sure what to do – if I should do anything or let it go.

I really haven’t seen any female bass players who really do stuff like that – I mean, I haven’t seen Kim Deal play much (in the Pixies), but I’ve heard she’s pretty expressive… but D’arcy from Smashing Pumpkins is a rock. And Paz from Zwan and A Perfect Circle is a pixie – she’s just cute when she plays – and I’m sure the guys are ALL paying attention to her legs… er… chops . Well, Kim Coletta from Jawbox is a pretty wacky bassist, so I guess I can feel a little better.

now I’ve just gotta put together some semblance of a wardrobe to go with my wackiness…

Love songs

The other day my husband and I had a discussion about the songs he’s written me over the years – none of them are particularly serious. For example: Booger Day refers to a time where I was being particularly persnickety and he threatened to pull a booger out of his nose and stick it on me – one day. On our one-year dating ‘anniversary’, he re-tooled Stayin’ Alive into a song about our ‘anniversary’ and lip synched it to me while wearing a hideous blue courderoy leisure suit & pink paisley shirt. Cute Little Piece of Origami pays homage to how cute he thinks I am… None are very serious, deep, romantic love songs…

A friend of ours played a song for us that was a love song to his wife & family – very mushy & romantic. Being a huge mush myself I had a hard time holding back the tears.

Then I was very envious. Which now brings me back to the day my husband and I were discussing the songs he’s written me. I started brooding – getting very upset that he never wrote anything serious for me. This has been an on-going issue for me.

He gently reminds me of all those times he sat down with his guitar just staring at me and letting the music flow from his guitar – those are his songs to me. He’s rather clumsy when it comes to words, but music is the language of his heart. I have a hard time remembering that he expresses himself differently. I love words and express myself best through words, he loves music and expresses himself best through music…

I came across his notepad that he keeps in his studio the day after I yelled at him for “never writing me any serious love songs” – he had tried to write me a song… with serious lyrics. I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

I had to apologize for the expectation I placed on him – for making him feel that I’d only be happy if he’d write me a serious love song – with lyrics. And now that I was reminded of the songs he did write – on the spot while staring into my eyes, or breathing in after a long kiss, I have to say that I think those are the most special times I’ve had with him. Him being himself, expressing himself the best way he can. I have to continue to let my husband be who he is and not place unnecessary expectations on him.

It’s better for us both that way.

What a week…

Last week was crazy.

Monday: close on house, dance for joy in our new house, praise God for all He’s done, took a bath in huge tub, heard pipe burst, garage ceiling leaking, call emergency plumber, sleep on bare floor because inflatable bed was too damned hard to inflate with a foot pump.

Tuesday: Deal with movers who claimed they were coming at 8:00 am and came 20 minutes early, Deal with plumbers to fix drainage pipe in tub, deal with old dude who’s fixing stuff in the house we told the builder needed to be fixed, deal with hubbie’s mom… and be home for delivery of refrigerator.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: enjoying the house.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday: sit back & enjoy the ‘rents buying us stuff.

and finally back to today – I’m in Philly working… finally some $$ of my own again.

Well at least we’re in our own house. My parents came & spent tons of $$ on us for the 4th of July weekend – blinds, kitchen table, patio furniture,grill, etc… we are very well outfitted for being first time homeowners. I love my parents.

So the joys of homeownership are slowly revealing themselves…

Haven’t been on the ol’ mac much – in fact, I’m using a windoze pc right now on business just outside Philly in a great hotel… blahblah – nevermind – good night everyone, I’m exhausted – being up since 5:00 am really sucks the life outta ya.

The worst is over?

We got the approval for the mortgage. Our Mortgage broker is an angel – she’s been so patient with my frustrations & freaking out, and she’s worked SO hard to get us this mortgage. She’s getting a lovely bunch of flowers or a big fruit basekt or something…

So – we are closing this coming monday!!!!!

Poor hubby had to deal with all my freakiness the past month – I’ve been a complete basketcase, snapping at him, yelling at him to tell me where the checkbook is, crying because the underwriter needed “Just one more letter explaining….”.

Now comes the fun part… moving! I think we’ll be sleeping on a borrowed air mattress on the floor for a while until our stuff comes from New Jersey.

Oh, and those of you who are interested, I have published some pictures of our new house… inside & out: OUR house

I have no fingernails left…

Homebuying should come with a surgeons general warning:
“First Time Home Buyers should be aware that excessive underwriting and dealing with sellers may cause the following: Heart Palpitations, Racing Heartbeat, Excessive Sweating, Stress, Bleeding Fingernails and possibly Heart Failure. Please use sparingly, don’t attempt to buy a home unless you and your spouse have been working 22 years at the same company and make 20 times the amount you need for your mortgage.”

Snarky Recruiters…

If I didn’t need a job, I wouldn’t be dealing with this snarky recruiter from Aquent.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but we can’t reschedule interviews around the traffic patterns in Atlanta. Being new to the area, I have to inform you that traffic is always heavy.”

Grr – I would have a few choice words for her smarmy response to a request to re-schedule an interview for earlier on in the day… a simple “no, I’m sorry – we’re booked solid” would suffice. And I’ve lived here before and commuted to downtown Atlanta from all the way up I-75 in Acworth – so I am VERY familiar with the traffic patterns in Atlanta thankyouverymuch.

—–

Visited the house yesterday and took lots of pictures. I hesitate to put any more pictures up because something may happen at the last minute and the contract may fall through (I pray everything goes smoothly though). We’ll know tomorrow or Wednesday morning if we have the mortgage or if they need another pint of blood before they make a decision whether or not to loan us the money.

But walking through Garden Ridge yesterday was very exciting… “I’ll take one of those, two of these, half a dozen of those…” I need to wait ’till I actually have a house to put all that cool stuff. I’m getting way too giddy for my own good – I was giggling while looking at PATIO FURNITURE… what has become of me?