Hanging out with Lena Dunham

It was so good to hang out with you today, Lena, and I would like to thank Terry Gross for facilitating the conversation and asking most of the questions I would have asked and some I wouldn't have thought of but was glad she asked you anyway, snorty laughter notwithstanding. I am still dancing around in the echo of what you said about how oversharing is a "gendered term." You said men who share about their experiences are deemed brave, but women are relegated to oversharing. I agree. I've sat at plenty of lunchtables with men talking perversion and misogyny and using expletives every other word and I got the impression that I was just supposed to hang. Whereas women asking for a tampon at anything above a whisper is considered gauche. I don't know if this is a battle we will ever win, dear Lena, the war of who gets permission to share true things, but that reminds me of something else illuminating you said. You explained how Hannah, the character you play in "Girls," is the one who feels charged with saying all the true things out loud, except she forgets that there are social constructs in place for a reason.

I feel this way. All the time.

I live in reaction to a very private family. I think my temperament is also pretty no bologna and having spent a decade in New England, I'm wicked blunt. But to my family, I'm all, "Okay, people, I'm calling everyone onto the floor who is still wearing a scrunchie from 1994" and my family is sort of, "Anybody care for some tea?"

So what I'm saying, Lena Dunham, is that I think we get each other. Also, did I say how cute your hair is looking on your Vogue cover? Ah, and by the way, congrazzles on the rave reviews of your book. Michiko Kakutani? Girrrrl.

Full disclosure, though: I couldn't get into "Girls" and it's not for the lack of trying on my part or a lack of talent for writing and acting on your part. It was just one of those salt-in-the-wounds reminders of how I sort of forgot to live in New York in my twenties and how I cannot fathom how many sexually transmitted diseases would be involved if life were really like that. That's where my brain goes. Everybody else is, Look how brave! Look how true! And I am tar-heeled paralyzed in the corner, pondering whether or not all those characters would be filling prescriptions for crabs.

Was that the sound of me oversharing again?

::presses publish because knows Lena Dunham won't mind::

Portrait Taker: Inquire within

I am seeking a photographer to capture a few portraits of me to be used for my website, business cards, and social media. Nothing spectacular. It's probably a 30 minute job. I'm just hoping to find someone who knows a few things about candids and lighting and composition. ***

I'm hoping he or she can cast me in light that is a little bit Maxfield Parrish painting, a little bit Thomas Kinkade. As a guide, I'd tell the photographer that the closer my skin looks to the texture and color of white rose petals, the better. I understand some photographers are also editors, so it would be excellent to hire one that could both shoot as well as Photoshop my hair from thin and overprocessed to more Shakira at the CMAs.  I'd like for my expression to be serious and subdued in a few of the shots, which are expressions I have never been capable of making, so the photographer should be well-read and practiced in the techniques suggested by "An Actor Prepares" by Constantin Stanislavsky. I would be especially interested to hire a photographer who could refract the sun's rays in such a way that my muffin top would look less "two pregnancies later" and more "Tracy Anderson Method." The general aura of the photos should be professional but also very glamorous, causing passersby to wonder if I am in fact both a published author as well as a supermodel spokeswoman for juicing.  I haven't yet decided on attire, so if the photographer could suggest an ensemble that would incorporate all the attire I pin to a Pinterest board called "In My Dreams," I would consider hiring him or her for a trial session. You know, to see what he or she's made of.

All interested photographers with 5-7 years of experience, please inquire within. Those expecting payment in American Dollars need not apply.

29 Days

"I think our music exists in the 29 days," said Jars of Clay frontman Dan Haseltine on a recent Relevant podcast.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

The foundational voice of one of the preeminent Christian music forces in the last century thinks his music really comes out of and speaks into the 29 days. That is, the majority of days in the month that are just not really all that dreamy. Jars of Clay says that because Jars of Clay must know about that: The good days, the golden days are the exception. The rare block on that calendar with forecast sunny, all day long. Most days are full of anxiety that grips us at a stoplight for no reason, heaviness because we misinterpreted a text message, avocados that are already rotting, and unanticipated bills.

There are blessings but the 29 days remind us that we are not home yet.

I love Jars of Clay. Each album has its own tone, its own mature sound. I especially like songs like "Safe to Land" and "Reckless Forgiver" and "Boy on a String" because they talk about what I now know are the 29 days. Dealing with our own concept of God in the midst of our mess. Seeing him show up to our landfills and begin plowing and packing through the garbage piled high.

Haseltine has contended with some well-earned controversy for his ponderings on Twitter recently, which he addresses in the podcast. Less interesting to me was his confirmation that he had thought about these things for a long while. More interesting to me was that he believed that church was a place to wrestle with doubt, to question and reason and help one another--because why else are we here? To be nothing but upstanding, confident in our every position? To pretend as though we are having 30 full days of bliss?

There are reasons why a band like Jars of Clay has survived and evolved through the last 20 years and we who are not on the inside nor omniscient will never fully understand. I have to believe, though, that there's a key to survival that is offered in the 29 days, in the doubt, in the embrace of all that is not sunny and certain so that it may be examined and held to the light, for many months, for 20 years, and perhaps for as long as our little clay jars endure.