Old Navy

I think the mall is a pretty funny place. I feel like when I'm in the mall I'm in this primordial game of sex appeal, and everyone is trying to look as attractive as possible for each other. Perhaps the the lean, tan adolescents will spontaneously mate with each other outside Abercrombie.This is especially true in those upscale malls where people pay lots of money for clothes that have holes in them.

I get tired of this game after about ten seconds. Instead, I like to sit down and people watch.

I went to Starbucks and ordered a decaf solo misto. The barista was upset that she had to put on decaf. And you know what? That's the difference between a good barista and a crummy one. The good ones are interested in your drink. They are fascinated that you would order such a drink, and they will take certain pleasure in making it for you. This one was annoyed she had to make decaf. Lame.

Then I went about my business that was people watching. For some reason, observing all these people made me think about the time in Nashville when I went to this concert at Cafe Coco and the singer in the opening act could not have been older than nineteen years old. He wore one of those Old Navy t-shirts with the swoosh-looking underline and Rebok tennis shoes. My ex girlfriend and her friend were making fun of him. I suppose its alright that we broke up, because I had immediately thought of the kid as my hero for wearing an Old Navy t-shirt onstage.

I'm not sure why I liked him for that reason, to be honest. I'm not at all fashionable; my wardrobe consists of clothing from Target and Old Navy and WorldSoccerShop. Perhaps it is because in our primordial game of find the suitable mate he was obviously not a threat to my vastly superior masculinity. Or maybe it was because I could relate. But I really didn't think about making fun of the kid.

To be certain, as I sipped on my misto, I am always in awe that God forgives everyone the same. This is one of those things that I am very thankful for. Because I am not a genius, nor an athlete, and I'm more likely to wear Old Navy than Urban Outfitters.



I treated myself at my lunch break today; it was my last day of work so I figured I would slip down to Starbucks and get a latte. To be honest, I thought the summer would never end. My job is very stressful. Actually, and it is with great pleasure that I correct myself, I can amend that statement to "it was very stressful." I'm done now.

It scares me for a few moments. I would get up and put on my dress shirt and grab my thermos of coffee and slide into the office. Then I would deal with bipolar customers and uptight QA managers for 9 hours.

I think I almost got swallowed by the American corporate machine.

But then I would come home and see myself in the bathroom mirror, my long hair nearly to my brown eyes. And I would play my guitar next to John Nolan's labored yelling. I'm not quite a young professional, not if I have anything to say about it.

My pops said it was a good experience and I made bank, and those statements are true. What's strange is how lame the summer felt.

I'm not ordinarily one to put a whole lot of stock into feelings, but this summer just stunk. I don't even really think God wanted humans to live like this. Generally alone, with nearly no community and a whole lot of money. How awful is that?

But I also think God likes hard workers. So that is also confusing.

Summer used to be so awesome when you were young. Now it's no fun at all. The trick is finding out what you're supposed to be doing at all of these silly seasons that change more often than I can keep up with. I'm 20. Yikes.

My only consolation was that the espresso was very rich. And I also stumbled on this verse.

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.



When Jesus said to take up your cross daily, I'm starting to think that he means to do that in the morning, and not at night after your day is over and done.