Saturday, April 01, 2006

Where My Eyes Look After They've Seen Enough -or- A Conspiracy of Hope

I used to be offended by the statement, "belief in God is a crutch." I used to think this was a horribly insulting thing said by horrifyingly bold people. The idea of my faith as a crutch was hateful to me until I realized that my legs were badly broken.

Q: When, exactly, did humanity start standing up on its own legs to begin with?
A: Just as soon as we can remove our rear parts from the mud!

I'm not sure, but by the smell of things this may not just be mud we're lounging in...

I used to operate on the assumption that one could have what it takes to stand on their own if they had it together. I used to think that things could be managed, calculated, and controled. This didn't last long.

The past five months have been an unwanted crash-course in the crap that this life serves up as well as the good. I don't think I need to convince anyone but here is a short list of things that prove that this world and the inhabitants of it are pretty badly messed up and broken: death, hate, heartbreak, lonliness, genocide, pain, and our general ability to hurt each other in a slew of creative ways both physically and emotionally. (And maybe even in other ways that we haven't come up with yet!)

In the illumination of these things, I can fully admit that I need a crutch. Stand under the weight of these things and tell me how long it is before it hurts. Tell me how long it is before you have to admit that you cannot stand.

So I'll take a crutch. The difference is when faith becomes more than something to lean on, but something to live for. When the crutch becomes your reason for hope.

I cannot put into words the litany of feelings that hang and drip from that one word for me; hope. I think I adhere to a conspiracy of hope. If I can inject the world with one thing, it would be hope. More hope for everyone. Everyday I walk into a classroom and see a room full of faces who I strive to communicate one thing to: hope. I wonder if they hear me say it? I wonder if they see it and feel it? I turn everything inside of me out to send that one message of hope, and I see eyes well up with tears or faces too tired for their age turn into smiles.

Every word, every look, every thought and every moment turned inside out for us to give just one thing to the lives, breaths, and moments around us: Hope.

"Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give thine angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for thy love's sake. Amen."

Thursday, March 30, 2006

A Letter to the Home Offices of Taco Cabana©

To Whom It May Concern:

On my recent visit to your Taco Cabana eatery located in Waco, TX, I noted several discrepencies that initially concerened me and caused me mild panic, which was subsequently driven away by the calming effects of your bean and cheese tacos on my system. I would, however, like to point out some of these discrepencies so that you might know what it is, exactly, that is going on at your Waco location which is outside of my experience with Taco Cabanas in my home city (and your great eatery's home city), San Antonio.
Firstly, they are now offering dishes with seafood in them. Something about "Shrimp-sation" or very nearly that was posted on a wall and included all of your classic dishes with shrimp in them. I do not think there should be shrimp in Waco. Waco is very far inland, and shrimp come from the sea. Besides, I've had a personal beef with shrimp ever since my pronunciation was skewed by some of my friends, and I now sometimes make the mistake of calling them "Skrimps."
Secondly, your Waco location does not offer the breakfast taco combo 24 hours a day. How am I to dine on my papas con juevos? You force me to eat only bean and cheese, which has not done well for my digestive process! Think of the people you're hurting here!
Thirdly, you have developed a new "salsa"... something called "Pineapple Puree Salsa" or something to this idea. It should not be considered a salsa, and it should not be considered a good idea. It tasted like apple sauce. Seeing as how the main ingrediant is pineapple, this is confusing.
Lastly, I didn't have to throw away my own tray. A man named Ellison did this for me. He brought my order to me and cleaned up after me. While Ellison was great, I was a bit miffed. Are you trying to class up the joint? I don't like that idea. Keep it a little dirty please. I don't want the masses to feel too comfortable going there. I like that (as was a surprise to me when I moved to Waco) that T.C.'s (that's you) has a reputation of being "ghetto" in some circles. At first it hurt and confused me when I heard this. But then my first car was called ghetto by Baylorites, and I loved it. My first roomate was called ghetto, I loved him. I was called ghetto, my jeans were once called ghetto as were my shoes, hats, eating habits, and ass at one point or another. So don't change that. Leave the little bits of cheese from previous diners on the table, or the empty salsa cups. That's you, Taco Cabana... don't let them change you.

Sincerely,
Matt Singleton
Long Time Taco Cabana Goer
Original Taco Cabana Eater
San Antonio Native
Member of the Taco Cabana Sean Elliot Kids Club
Faithful Customer

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Jack Daniels Burger, no onions, add avacado -or- The Things I Think about When I am Thinking

I am one of the most misunderstood people that I know.

Let me explain:
It is widely known that I love food. This is true. I love to eat food. I love to cook food. I love to talk about food. I love to think about what food I might make or eat. I like having enough time in HEB to get a little wacky and start buying things and scheming meals. The masses can keep laughing at my irrational and focused love for food, I don't care.

But let me let you in on a little secret about all of this... I may actually love food for a different reason as well.

I love food because I love people. This sounds outrageous and a bit Dalmerish, but stick with me.

A Jack Daniels Burger (medium, no onions, add avacado) is not satisfying without a good friend and good conversation across the table from you. If there is no one there to watch the sauce drip from your lips and into your facial hair with disgust (but continue to faithfully eat with you), then the Jack Daniels Burger is just another short stop on the way to high cholesterol. And where's the fun in asking for a huge wetnap when you're by yourself, with no one to appreciate your knowledge of quality wetnap availability at your dining center of choice?

I like going to all-you-can-eat Sirloin with a bunch a bunch of my boys, only to have to stop and take a community relief effort at a local, sanitary book seller.

I like sitting around an overcrowded table with family and friends, or friends that might as well be family and family that might as well be friends. I like it when there is a bowl for people who like it spicey, and a bowl for those of weaker bowels. I like it when something runs out, or someone spills something because that means that someone will apologize and we'll all get to reassure them and tell them, "it's not a big deal!" I like it when everyone has eaten their fill and we're all just a slow song away from a nap.

I like becoming a culinary mastermind in the kitchen with a good friend. I like getting in each others way and having to help each other and everything coming out perfect at just the right time. I like that I had no idea some people put oranges in guacamole, or that you can make a gourmet meal for two out of crap in your freezer, or that you can totally rip off Jason's Deli's Tomato Basil Soup if you know the right people and access to an HEB. I like it that when you make a meal with someone you both create something together and then have to clean up after your creation together.

I like Chinese Buffets in other parts of the country that are deceptive, but good. (C.O.D. fish is not "cod fish" but "catch of the day.") I like that a bag of Fritos can be the perfect opportunity for widening your social circles.

I like that when God became a man, and put on our skin and walked in our dirt, He also ate food, a lot. He kept the casks of wine full. He turned a couple of Filet-O-Fish sandwhiches into a miracle feast, he grilled on the beach, he ate his friends' food, and He sat around the table with people that he loved.

When I start contemplating my love for food, I don't think of plates without faces. Let it be known that you're all being fooled when I eat with you. If I look happy when I'm eating, it might be because of you.