Jewfro, Neo, and Frozen Dairy Treat Justice

Its 7:30 a.m. and I'm riding a metrobus of fictional proportions into the city to my job serving at the tea room. It feels like I'm a Hot Wheels in the hands of a toddler the way it rattles and shakes when the drowsy bus driver (Who I imagine has a name like Latashia of Dareen judging from her flash-frozen dyed red hair) hit a curb a second ago. I half except to find a peeling "Made In China" sticker on the bottom of my surprisingly plush seat but I'm sure all I'd really find is vagabond pocket change and business cards.

That being said, I quite enjoy public transport. There are several familiar faces this morning. Perhaps most interesting is the freakishly tall man wearing headphones to drown out his loud pepto-pink shirt who is the spitting image of Neo from the Matrix. I, Hannah Musick, ride the metro with Sad Keanu.

The whiskery forensics prof. from a city university has finished the toddler-sized tome he has been working on all week and is snoring gently, his waffling white sneakers tucked together under the seat. How he can sleep next to lively Richard, the guy in head-to-toe scrubs working the night shift to support his university studies in funeral directing, is beyond me.

An older woman, new to the commuter crowd, is reading a horribly produced newspaper and, I believe, a blond wig.I can forgive wearing a wig weather for fasion or illness but why, oh why would you choose the flaxen mullet look when there are so many other options out there? Oh, look! Cute Asian College Student is back and being a dependable and good student unlike Sir Jewfro that only bothers to come a few days a week and won't stop playing Angry Birds and loudly sipping a Slurpee.Shame on you, Sir Jewfro. You are a disgrace to your hair. 

When you spend enough time commuting you begin to learn how to spot little indicators of just how trustworthy a person might be. 50 year old women with a blouse from Khols and ladybugs embroidered on her shoes who is staring at me like I might steal her grandmother's angel cake recipe? The worst thing shes going to do is not tell you about a hot sale at Sears.

Now the geriatric man who has turned grey and wrinkly like an elephant hide and is making a-ok signs at his lips, staring his pink eyes at a kid down the train until they meet and there is much rustling of a Foot Locker bag however? Yeah, Grandpa might not make the most stable travelling buddy.

However there is a formula to avoid these shady jades that you can employ any time you have to commute or walk through a creepy neighborhood. I even arranged it into a unnecessary and totally unrelated anagram GET 'EM:

G.lasses
E.ye contact
T.exting


'E.arphones
M.ace

Its pretty simple: Wear sun glasses, avoid eye contact, text someone/or call them to avoid talking to creeps, wear earphones (sound optional), and have emergency mace on your person. Trying to get your attention through any of your Get 'Em defenses takes too much effort for the petty creeps and the serious ones should back off if you ever had to pull the mace (which I've never had or think I'll have to, but its just a safety precaution. And I'm a bit trigger happy). Above all pray for protection, trust your gut, and don't be stupid. If a twitchy man in a white van offers you free candy be smart and just say no. Unless maybe if its a peanut butter cup of course.

I'm currently in the stage of life where people begin to take your answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up, Little Girl?" seriously. (Which is unfortunate because for most of my childhood years the answer was , "A princess mermaid" or "Peter Pan's Wife". This doesn't fly anymore.) With all the soul searching, college searching, and transcript credit searching you come to a point where it isn't about finding your destined major anymore, its about finding any acceptable major. Through all this inner thought and snacking while doing said inner thought I can conclude that I do have a driving passion in life: Ice cream. Or rather, the fillings in ice creams.

How many times have you gotten a cone of delicious cookie-dough, peanut-butter cup, moose tracks, or any other ice cream with a filling only to bite in and find that you have been unjustly jipped and have only a mundane vanilla scoop? "This is no cookies and cream!", you scream to the cold skies, "if anything its cream with a chance of cookies!" I may be the next Martin King Jr. of frozen dairy treats, bringing equality and truth to bombast the lies and deceitful packaging of Frozen Treat Giants. ENOUGH, I say. GIVE ME COOKIE DOUGH, OR GIVE ME DEATH. OR AT LEAST A REASONABLE DISCOUNT.

Chill Complaints,
Hannah

"Valentine's Day!" aka "Discount Chocolate Eve!"

So it's Valentine's Day. Desperation Day. The National Celebration of Love. Or, as I like to call it, Discount Chocolate Eve. (FYI, I did write this on V-Day but forgot to post it until now. Fail.)

Once again the year finds me alone. Still missing my better half, the Romeo to my Juliet, the Rhett to my Scarlet (or Link?), the Pepper to my Salt, the Peanut Butter to my Jelly, the Mustard to my Ketchup, the Prince Charming to my Damsel in Distress, the Punch-line to my Joke.

"But how could that be?!" you cry out. "You are so witty and charming and beautiful!" (Ahem. Say it.SAY IT.)

The real truth to the matter, in all honesty, is that it really doesn't bother me. Many of my friends who find themselves single on this holiday are heartbroken, sobbing as they watch romantic comedies and eating Nutella straight from the jar. "WHY?" they wail, "I am destined to be forever alone!"

When I woke up this morning though, the first thought in my head was "It's snowing!" followed by "Where did these socks come from that i'm wearing? I've never seen them before..." and then, somewhere in the back of my head, "Isn't today Valentine's Day? More sweets for me!" I've never really had that panic of being single before, the fear of becoming a crazy old cat lady in the wilderness. I mean, c'mon. Obviously I will be either an old fish lady or an old hedgehog lady. Get real, people.

All joking aside, I really have never panicked about not having a boyfriend. I guess since I've never outright tried to pursue dating that I don't feel like I've failed or am missing out on anything. Maybe when I'm a bit older I'll be more regretful with a lonely Valentine's Day. But which is worse? Having a boyfriend who doesn't do anything to express his love on Valentine's Day or to be single and still have a mystery future to look forward to? Plus asking someone out just to not be alone on Febuary 14th seems unfair to all involved. 

Speaking of expressing love, I really feel sorry for guys sometimes. They are expected to pull out all the stops and wine and dine the special girl in their life at any cost. Expectations can be so high that there is no way to meet them. On the other hand, though, they don't get out of not doing anything. Just because a guy can't buy a hot air balloon or take his wife on a trip to Paris doesn't mean he shouldn't ignore the holiday completely. If you are with the right girl who doesn't expect diamonds and caviar than any effort, even just buying her favorite flowers or taking her out to eat at a place she likes, is appreciated and sweet. Sometimes it really is the thought that counts.

For all you single ladies (and gents), here is a list to remind you of the perks of being single on V-Day:

-Sleeping in.
-Sweat pants and pjs are your new best friends.
-Comb? Razor? Shampoo? What are these things you speak of?
-Less people to buy gifts for, more money!
-Too bad I don't have to share all my chocolate with someone else. TOO BAD.

And for everyone who has found their special someone (always makes them sound like a ring of keys or an overdue library book), here is a list of pros:

- Those ooey-gooey butterflies in your stomach are going to be working overtime.
- Surprises and Sweet Gestures.
-Getting cards from someone other than family members.

So I guess what I'm saying is I'm not joining the "I'm single and proud and crying on the inside" women's parade or the "Oh honey-boo I LUV U 4-EVA'!" gang. I'm perfectly happy spending the day expressing my love to my family and friends and chocolate. Oh, and in the arms of my one true love: my scarlet snuggie.

And wearing my bunnie hat.

Love and Other Forms of Chocolate,

-Hannah
(Maybe I went overboard on the gifs this time...)

"Hold My Crown - I MUST BOOGEY!"

I've been reading about King David in the Bible recently, and i'm constantly amazed. (I know you just read "Bible" and your interest just evaporated, but hear me out).When you say David, everyone thinks of this little kid with a sling-shot facing off a cartoon giant. The real David of the Bible was so much more, though. If you took James Bond, Indiana Jones, and the Prince of Persia and made them into one guy born into a Bible time family then saturated him in God's favor, you'd have King David. He was strong and skilled, slaying bears and lions and real-life giants when he was just a teenager. He was specially chosen by God to rise from a Shepard (a bit like being a fast-food employee or farm hand today) and was promised the throne of Israel, a powerful and influential kingdom of the Middle East. He was a dangerous warrior is battle, an anointed musician, and a man who would die in an instant to save his friend. Not to mention that the Bible takes the time to mention how attractive and desirable (aka, pulchritudinous out the back door) David was. Bond had nothing on King David's love life, either. David seemed to collect wives and concubines that he seduced, not to mention that he had one of the Bible's most scandalous affairs (not his best moment, for sure) that involved an indiscreet bath and murder. On top of all these achievements, however, David was a dancer.

Correction, David wasn't a dancer. He danced. He could have looked like a a spinning fool on crazy flakes when he danced, but he was so filled with the joy of the Lord that he couldn't contain it all. So he danced before God and all the people of Israel in celebration. One of his wives was watching from a window and later said to him:
"How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, disrobing in the sight of the slave girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would!"


(Aka: "How kingly you looked dancing today, David. Can't you keep a shirt on while you are gettin' jiggy? You're acting like a civillian, not royalty! You looked like a fool dancing all around.")


He shot right back at her: 
"It was before the LORD, who chose me rather than your father or anyone from his house when he appointed me ruler over the LORD's people Israel--I will celebrate before the LORD.Yes, and I am willing to look even more foolish than this, even to be humiliated in my own eyes! But those servant girls you mentioned will indeed think I am distinguished!"


(Aka: "Yo, wife! There was no shame because my dancing was for God. Anyway, God chose me, NOT your father the last king, to rule over Israel. I will celebrate and thank God for what he has done for me. I would embarrass myself so much even I thought I looked ridiculous if it was for God. Oh, and those servant girls in the crowd watching me? They will only think I am being kingly! True story."

(By the way, his wife ended up being cursed never to have children to the day of her death. Better think twice before despising God's people.)




"So great," you're thinking. "He was filled with great joy and danced with no shame before the Lord. Great guy, good for him, time to go check Facebook." But there is more. Anyone can worship God with a thankful heart when life is going well, blessing and favor being showered, a new iphone 4 in their pocket. But what about when your To Do list is longer than your day? What about when you are depressed, an emotional wreck? When you don't have the new car you want and you just wrecked the junker you do have?

David faced one of the hardest times of his life shortly after his adulterous affair with Bathsheba, a military friend's wife. 9 months, to be exact. His newest wife was pregnant. However, in punishment for King David's sin, God told him that his son would die. David's confidant and cocky additude suddenly deflated. In utter misery and grovelling desperation, he tore his kingly robes and refused to eat, pleading with the Lord for his son's life. This is what happened:


"And they said, “He (David's son) is dead.” 

To someone who isn't a christian, stumbling on this story without looking at the rest of the Bible, they must think that God is a heartless, cosmic dictator. Nothing could be farther from the truth. God had to punish David, like a parent taking away a toy that their child had stolen, but it was perhaps harder for God than it was David. No father enjoys seeing their kid in pain, but sometimes the right thing to do isn't the easy thing to do. How easy would it have been for God to just allow David to live happily ever after, no side-affects after committing adultery and murder. But it wouldn't have been right, it wouldn't be the best thing for David. It can be so hard to understand from our point of view, but God was only doing what was best for David, like any good parent would. 

Never think that God didn't care about David, though. God did. The price of sin is death, and since no one is perfect we all are sentenced to death, no matter how many good things we do. God loved David, you, and me so much that he gave his own perfect son to die so that we could live. Jesus was the ultimate sacrifice.


Right, back to King David.


"And they said, “He (David's son) is dead.” So David arose from the ground, washed, anointed himself, and changed his clothes; and he came into the house of the LORD and worshiped."

Wow. When I first read this I did a double-take. If you've ever lost a child, a sibling, or a family member you know what it feels like. Shock, disbelief, confusion; the feeling like someone has unceremoniously ripped your heart out of your chest and all that remains is a hollow place where all the memories and love of that person are supposed to be but never will. "How it feels when the sacred is torn from life, and you survive." The death of a loved one, especially a child, is an event that can destroy a family. It took months, more, for my family to return to a semblance of normal life after my baby brother died (another story for another time). So how, HOW, can David worship and dance before the Lord when his newborn son just died? Not to mention when David knows that it is all his fault?


Because David knew why God had taken his son, he knew God did it because he loved David more than the King could understand. He still knew, beyond the pain he felt, that God had saved his life and had made a way that despite David's sin he would see his son again one day. He knew that God is indescribable and worthy to be praised.


So he danced. I doubt that the same joy filled him, i'm sure he felt like a piece of dirt that had gone into the wash and became a shred of beaten lint. Not to mention he hadn't ate, washed, or slept for who knows how long. And yet he worshiped. David had enough wisdom to know that worship isn't just praising God when everything is thanksgiving and blessing, its about learning to dance in the rain.

So that is also why I dance. I'm no prima ballerina and i'll never be able to do a perfect grand je'te, but I will always strive to dance like King David. Unashamed, in love, with a heart of worship. Plus, have you heard me sing?

(Here is an incredibly subtle hint...)

There is always a story,
_Hannah


(P.S. Started writing this as my 20 minute blog post about why I dance, idea from Brianna's lovely blog. Here I am, two hours and some pretty heavy writing later...)

YOU GOIN' DOWN, JIMINEY!

Tonight, Jiminey Cricket dies.

Well, not the actual animated Disney character from Pinocchio (though he was mighty annoying as well). No. This time it's his all-to-real cousin, the cricket who lives in our basement. Specifically, in my bedroom.

It was about 11:20 and i'd just gotten home from a long run. Exhausted, short-changed on sleep, and with a lot to do the next day, i collapsed into bed. I was just drifting off to sleep when a cricket with a megaphone from somewhere in my room yelled, "Hey Baby! You looking fiiiiinnnnneeee tonight, yeah. I'm here, what are your other two wishes? I've never seen an angel without wings before. Yeah, you like that baby?"

(This gif hypnotizes me...)

Obviously the cricket wasn't actually talking to me, but I took the liberty of translating its booming, disruptive mating calls he sounded off. Every few minutes. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Do you know how hard it is to sleep with someone yelling cheesy pick-up lines at you all night in cricket? Very. And thats why i'm training to become a ninja cricket assasin: bringing sleep to humans everywhere.

Tonight, when the sun goes down and the crickets come out, that crickets going down. I am going to pin-point his location, prepare myself with a hefty math book (Really, what else are they good for?) and assassinate that cheeky little monkey.MWAAHHAHAhhahaHHAHHAHAAA!

(...I wonder how biblical and morally upstanding it is to be planning murder on a Sunday morning before leaving for church? Oh, well. Maybe God will smite the cricket before I get home with a lightening bolt or an avenging angel and do the job for me.)

 Cricket Intent,
-Hannah Hoo
(p.s. sorry for the blue, slight glitch)