Hello friends. Today I have a very special topic that is near and dear to my heart: the awkwardness of the caf. Since the place is being renovated for next year, I thought, "What better way to enshrine it than to pick apart its awkwardness on the internet?" So for the next few days I will be bringing you the highlights of my folly in our beloved Nicholson Commons.
Number 1:
Probably the greatest source of rosy cheeks in the cafeteria is the ominous task of finding the people you came with. You know you have to; you know it's going to be impossible, like they sat at that one table downstairs around the corner completely out of view, or decided for the first time in three years that it was a nice enough day to sit outside. So you linger at the silverware cart (Those are some nice spoons...) in apprehension.
Sometimes I try to find my friends from that safe zone of the cart, but it almost never works. God laughs in my foolish face: "If you want the comfort of a social group, you better pay your dues meandering. It's not like these things are given freely." Touché, Lord.
So I begin the journey, employing a practiced look of Glancing Nonchalantly, and not Desperately Scanning to Avoid Social Destruction, and I see a lot of nice people who I could sit with. They even give me the "There's a seat right here!" look, but alas. The unwritten friend code (section 93) says that you do NOT betray the people you came with. Don't be a Boromir, be a Sam.
So I continue on my quest, passing table after table of people who have no doubt been watching my progress and are judging me for spending such a long time confused and alone...until finally I see that waving friend like a rescue helicopter over the choppy ocean of failure. See, masses, I belong to someone!
And the thing is, the thing that gets me every time in my irony bone, they're sitting at the table right-the-eff in front of where I began my search! It's like I have a blind spot to those tables that are right in front of the silverware. Man, do I hate that discovery. But at least at this point I am safe in my cocoon of snuggly acceptance. Now I am free to begin whatever new awkward experience old Nicholson throws at me (sly dog). Stay tuned.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
addendum
How could I forget the awkward-orgy known as passing the peace?
Every time the pastor says those fated words, I have a 2-second panic attack. Sometimes some good samaritan will come to my rescue-- I turn around, scanning in desperation, she meets my gaze with a Christian smile that says, "It'll be okay. I will shake that socially inept hand of yours," and we complete the act with little psychological damage.
But on some days, when maybe my hair is not combed quite right or my smile is not radiant enough, I can't get any peace. I look to my right, the nice young man is shaking hands with the couple in front of him. I look to my left, my best friend is the life of the pew party. I turn around and see only the backs of heads. Even the old people who can hardly see whose hands they're shaking are cooler than I am. I am an island in the middle of peace and rejection. Sometimes I don't shake a single hand.
Don't let this happen to you on Sunday, friends.
Every time the pastor says those fated words, I have a 2-second panic attack. Sometimes some good samaritan will come to my rescue-- I turn around, scanning in desperation, she meets my gaze with a Christian smile that says, "It'll be okay. I will shake that socially inept hand of yours," and we complete the act with little psychological damage.
But on some days, when maybe my hair is not combed quite right or my smile is not radiant enough, I can't get any peace. I look to my right, the nice young man is shaking hands with the couple in front of him. I look to my left, my best friend is the life of the pew party. I turn around and see only the backs of heads. Even the old people who can hardly see whose hands they're shaking are cooler than I am. I am an island in the middle of peace and rejection. Sometimes I don't shake a single hand.
Don't let this happen to you on Sunday, friends.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
nazarawkward
Sorry I have been so absent from the blogging world lately. But to make it up to you, I'd like to talk about something that I think you'll appreciate: the unending awkwardness of church and chapel. This isn't to say that I dislike church; I love it. Awkwardness and all. Awkwardness especially. And I think God wants us to have a sense of humor about these things. So without further ado, my top five musings about our beloved body of believers.
1. Admit it-- it's pretty freaking awkward when the whole crowd is sitting and people start to stand one by one. How do you know when it's time? Ahh, this verse convinced me! That's right, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring!
And then there's a certain point where you feel your Christ Credit is going down, like when that guy who picks his nose and believes women are only useful to make sandwiches and used to torture kittens as a child--he's standing and you're not, and you had better feel that holy spirit move your butt out of the seat. And then worst case scenario, you just have to stand because the people in front of you are obscuring your view of the screen.
2. When you close your eyes in prayer and then when you open them the worship band has materialized on stage as if by magic. Sneaky little buggers!
3. I don't know if this is awkward for anyone else, but sometimes when someone (usually a student) is praying in chapel, I play the Count the "God"s game. I don't know why, but some people here seem to think that Jesus suffers from short-term memory loss. Example: "Dear Father God we thank you for your word, God, and that you have come to us, Jesus, in all the glory of your overwhelming love, God. Father, we wanna lift up our brothers and sisters, God, to you and your almighty plan, Lord, because we know that you meet all our needs, Jesus." (grand total: 8. Or 9 if you count "Father God" as 2. My personal record is 34.)
Pretty sure He knows who you're talking to.
4. The Communion Catwalk. Okay, Communion is a wonderful thing. It's a time of reflection and thanksgiving. But the people at our school are so damn stylish! At church on Sunday too. It's a sunny day, you want to get your praise on, so you wear your best new Forever 21 dress. For Jesus. I feel ya, I am a big fan of dressing up, and when communion time comes, the whole congregation gets to do our favorite thing: judge. Some people know what's up, and they come to church ready. New boots, that dress you saw on sale at Target (come on, we're not heathens), some kind of indie patterned tights...perfect. Others, not so much-- Aw honey, a t-shirt and your mom's sweater? You'll do better next week.
5. Speaking of communion...One of my favorite personal faux pas happened during Point Loma communion. It must have been freshman year, when I was so young and naive, when I first encountered that mystical Cup O' Christ. See, my home church makes life easy for me with those cute little disposable plastic cups (filled with real wine--holla) and designated disposal trays. But at Point Loma, they're fancy. At what must have been my first college communion, I pranced down the aisle like a champ, ready to greet the holy host, and was stopped in my tracks by one big, beautiful communion pimp goblet (if you will). I stared blankly at the poor faculty member who was serving me that day.
Hesitantly, I grabbed a piece of sanctified pita bread and approached the chalice. Server man smiled, eager to complete his mission.
"Uhh...may I?" I asked, bread in hand, eyes on the cup. I started leaning in.
I don't know if he knew what was coming. "Well, I suppose--"
I went in for the kill. Grabbed that ornate glass right out of his hand and chugged my blood of Christ right down. Delicious and satisfying.
I smiled as I placed it back in his confused palm and walked away.
Since then I have perfected the Advanced Dipping Technique decreed by the Nazarenes.
Welp, those are my thoughts of the day. Don't worry, chapel and life are still rife with uncomfortable moments to be enshrined. Stay tuned, my lomawkward population. The journey has only just begun.
1. Admit it-- it's pretty freaking awkward when the whole crowd is sitting and people start to stand one by one. How do you know when it's time? Ahh, this verse convinced me! That's right, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring!
And then there's a certain point where you feel your Christ Credit is going down, like when that guy who picks his nose and believes women are only useful to make sandwiches and used to torture kittens as a child--he's standing and you're not, and you had better feel that holy spirit move your butt out of the seat. And then worst case scenario, you just have to stand because the people in front of you are obscuring your view of the screen.
2. When you close your eyes in prayer and then when you open them the worship band has materialized on stage as if by magic. Sneaky little buggers!
3. I don't know if this is awkward for anyone else, but sometimes when someone (usually a student) is praying in chapel, I play the Count the "God"s game. I don't know why, but some people here seem to think that Jesus suffers from short-term memory loss. Example: "Dear Father God we thank you for your word, God, and that you have come to us, Jesus, in all the glory of your overwhelming love, God. Father, we wanna lift up our brothers and sisters, God, to you and your almighty plan, Lord, because we know that you meet all our needs, Jesus." (grand total: 8. Or 9 if you count "Father God" as 2. My personal record is 34.)
Pretty sure He knows who you're talking to.
4. The Communion Catwalk. Okay, Communion is a wonderful thing. It's a time of reflection and thanksgiving. But the people at our school are so damn stylish! At church on Sunday too. It's a sunny day, you want to get your praise on, so you wear your best new Forever 21 dress. For Jesus. I feel ya, I am a big fan of dressing up, and when communion time comes, the whole congregation gets to do our favorite thing: judge. Some people know what's up, and they come to church ready. New boots, that dress you saw on sale at Target (come on, we're not heathens), some kind of indie patterned tights...perfect. Others, not so much-- Aw honey, a t-shirt and your mom's sweater? You'll do better next week.
5. Speaking of communion...One of my favorite personal faux pas happened during Point Loma communion. It must have been freshman year, when I was so young and naive, when I first encountered that mystical Cup O' Christ. See, my home church makes life easy for me with those cute little disposable plastic cups (filled with real wine--holla) and designated disposal trays. But at Point Loma, they're fancy. At what must have been my first college communion, I pranced down the aisle like a champ, ready to greet the holy host, and was stopped in my tracks by one big, beautiful communion pimp goblet (if you will). I stared blankly at the poor faculty member who was serving me that day.
Hesitantly, I grabbed a piece of sanctified pita bread and approached the chalice. Server man smiled, eager to complete his mission.
"Uhh...may I?" I asked, bread in hand, eyes on the cup. I started leaning in.
I don't know if he knew what was coming. "Well, I suppose--"
I went in for the kill. Grabbed that ornate glass right out of his hand and chugged my blood of Christ right down. Delicious and satisfying.
I smiled as I placed it back in his confused palm and walked away.
Since then I have perfected the Advanced Dipping Technique decreed by the Nazarenes.
Welp, those are my thoughts of the day. Don't worry, chapel and life are still rife with uncomfortable moments to be enshrined. Stay tuned, my lomawkward population. The journey has only just begun.
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