Trying to Change the World

I went with my family last Sunday to see Swing Vote. I was impressed. Expecting it to be a comedy, I was pleasantly surprised by how deep it was.

The plot revolves around "Bud" Johnson, who wanders through life with no purpose. He has a job at the egg-packing company, but has taken 31 sick days. He's an alcoholic, and he's a loser.

Molly, his intelligent and sassy daughter, registers him as an Independent so he can vote in the upcoming election. Bud is less than pleased. However, he promises her that he will meet her at the voting station after work. But, after getting fired, he makes a trip to the local bar, thus forgetting Molly.

Molly takes matters into her own hands and attempts to vote for her father. While she is preparing to vote, the machine is unplugged by the cleaning lady, and her "father's" vote is not counted. This where all the trouble starts. Bud is contacted by local officials the day after. He has to re-vote or a new president will not be elected. The fate of the free world rests in the hands of a single man. A ton of hilarious acts ensue as Bud tries to determine who he wants to vote for. Bribes are made, parties flip-flop and lives are changed. Bud, in the end, makes the decision that made me proud to be an American.

I strongly suggest that you take the time to watch this movie. It has no agendas, no "right" or "left" position, but it makes you think. "Never again let it be said that one's vote doesn't count," states a reporter in the movie. True. Kevin Costner makes Bud an endearing loser. But, Madeline Carroll, the little girl who plays Molly, is the one who stole the show. Watch the movie just to see her. She's fabulous.

I tend to steer away from political movies made in Hollywood. They are usually biased and unfair. But, this movie is different. It makes you want to believe in the integrity of people and politics once again. Swing Vote is truly awesome and it brings a wonderful message along with it: You can make a difference.

A Sunday Post

Today, I listened to Reba McEntire and Justin Timberlake's song, "The Only Promise that Remains". As the refrain repeated itself several times, I knew that it was intended to be a romantic love song. However, I found myself thinking that it could be God singing those lines to us. How poetic of me. Take a listen and tell me what you think.
Here's the link to youtube.com so you can hear Reba and JT perform it live on Oprah. This video is property of someone else's. I just wanted to give that person credit so they won't think I was stealing it from them, or anything.
By the way, here are the lyrics in case you can't quite understand what they're saying:

"When the ground beneath you starts a-shakin'

And you forget the place you came from

When you're lost and lookin' for your way home

Your way home to me

I'll come out and find you

When the world around you starts a-movin'

And you should wonder if I still love you

If you feel the darkness comin', risin' inside

I'll make a light to guide you back home

And after all the sky is fallin' down

And after all the water's washed away

My love's the only promise that remains.

When your doubts have got you thinkin', nothing's ever really sacred

And you're afraid you might believe in... Believe in me.

And I'll give you a reason.

Cause the world around us keeps on movin'

And there's no doubt that I still love you

So when you feel the darkness comin', risin' inside,

I'll make a light to guide you back home.

And after all the sky is fallin' ,

after all the water's washed away,

My love's the only promise that remains.

My love's the only promise that remains.

My love's the only promise that remains.

And after all the sky is fallin' down(After all the sky is fallin' down),

And after all the water's washed away(After all the water's washed away),

My love's the only promise that remains."

Now, doesn't that sound like a love song from God to us? How beautiful is that?

Diva Lesson #1

Today I decided to start giving all of you, my dear readers, your first diva lesson. I think I will continue these types of posts from time to time, just to keep you guessing. We'll discuss everything that makes up a gorgeous diva. Here's to you, my divas-in-training. Let's all be awesome together.

Always have on a great pair of shoes.

I don't care if you're working out, lounging around the house or eating out at a fancy restaurant. You must always have on a great pair of shoes. Unless you want to go barefoot, then it's okay not to. Even I go barefoot around the house sometimes.
Shoes every woman must own:

• a pair of black high heels
  
• a pair of ballet flats ( In the picture on the right, there are two pairs of ballet flats. The animal print is a must, in my opinion. What diva can resist animal prints?)
• sandals (Gladiator styles are especially "in" this summer. When I say sandals, I do not mean flip flops.)
• a casual and comfortable pair of sneakers
• a pair of brown high heels
  

There you have it. A list of shoes that every diva must own. In reality, this list is very basic. I own many more pairs of shoes than just the basics. I believe every diva should aspire to wear fabulous shoes on every occasion.
I have over 35 pairs of shoes. My life's ambition is to get a closet just for my shoes. I also want a pair of Jimmy Choos. (Hey! That rhymes! I'm a poet and I didn't even know it. Ha! I'm on a role here.)
To be a diva is to be fabulous. If I could have 365 pairs of shoes, a different pair for each day of the year, my life would be complete. Just kidding! My life is pretty wonderful and having great shoes is part of that.

Freedom... Or Something Close to It

On Monday, I went to get my leaner's permit, which lets me drive a car with a driver who's 21 or older. I was a little apprehensive about the test, but how much can one prepare for a written test on rules of the road?

My father and I walked inside the testing facility, blinking because the sun outside had been so bright. It took my eyes a moment to adjust before I saw all the people. Babies crying, children ran freely, people talking loudly to each other. Man, this was going to be the longest wait of my life. The woman sitting at the receptionist desk said brusquely, "Can I help you?"

I nervously told her that I was here to take the test for my permit. She handed me a slip of paper with the number 34 on it. The neon sign above her head read that they were serving number 11. Ugh...

We both sat down next to a greasy-haired man and a black girl who was about my age. I sat for a good hour reading my new book before becoming bored. To pass the time, I listened to the conversations of the people around me. I call it "people watching". It's a lot of fun. The two men in front of me were discussing the prison system because they had both been in it.

"Yeah, I been to Stringtown and Okie City and a whole lotta other places. How 'bout you?"

The second man laughed and said that he had also been in Springtown. They began to swap prison stories. I gulped.

Two hours later, we were still waiting. I wasn't as nervous. A Hispanic man had brought his translator to speak with the receptionist. The receptionist asked him if he had a birth certificate. No. Did he have a passport? No. Did he posess a green card? Yes. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it proudly to the woman. She studied it for a moment. A social security card? Yes. He gave her it too. She held the two up next to each other and turned towards the translator.

"You need to tell him that these two cards don't have the same name. They have to be the same."

The translator smiled slightly and gestured towards the man. "It is the same man. Same man, two names." She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that this wasn't her problem.

Needless to say, they were sent away without a driver's license.

Lastly, a man walked in with multiple piercings. He looked angry and I was worried that he might just hit somebody any minute. He walked by me and I noticed a tattoo on his right calf. I whispered to my dad, "He's gay." My father had also been watching him.

"How do you know that?" he asked, accusatorily.

I pointed out that the tattoo on his leg was of two naked men groping each other. Underneath their... um... private parts, were the words: sexy mother f******. I blinked four times before looking away. Meanwhile, the man had noticed me staring and glared fiercely. Although, with a tattoo like that, he should expect to get some stares.

After a four hour wait, I was called to the back where I took the test. Easy peazy. Never felt more confident about a test in my life. We drove to the tag agency, where we discovered that my name was misspelled. We had to go back there. AHHHH!!!! This was turning into a nightmare.

We eventually fixed the problem and I drove home, going 10 miles below the speed limit at all times. 45 miles per hour is just way too fast for me. I have my permit. I have a little freedom. Don't burst my bubble. I know that I have to have a driver who's 21 years or older in the seat next to me. But, I'm not going to worry about that. I'm going to enjoy my little taste of freedom for as long as I can.