My friends, chapter 7 : Heather

It is a very American thing to be constantly obsessed with your own betterment. Self-help and how much space it takes up at Barnes and Noble attests to this. It is rare, even in America, however, to find a person who really does take pains to improve in real life. This is Heather. She is a "Make It Happen" kind of girl. She dives readily and deeply. She lives like tomorrow might not come but she plans like there are enough tomorrows to fill up two lifetimes. I admire her so much.
I met Heather one summer Sunday in Austin about three years ago. We were at church. I introduced myself and before we knew it we were laughing a lot for reasons I can't quite remember. She was in Austin for an internship at Dell. She was an MBA student at BYU. We got to know each other pretty fast. We had dinner parties and went swimming and talked a lot about the perplexities of life. It was a fun summer. I'll never forget the project we worked on for a Dell competition among the interns. The task was to create a recruiting video for prospective interns. Heather enlisted my help right away. Doing little else than sitting by the pool reading, I was eager to assist in a creative project. So I began brainstorming. I felt like a mocumentary was ideal. I wrote some really funny stuff but the real magic happened right on film. It started with a monologue by me. I was pretending to do something important on my computer in my cubicle, all staged obviously as I don't work at Dell, and then I suddenly turn around and engage my audience with, "Oh! Hello! I am Kristin Ferrell. You may remember me from my acclaimed documentary Up Your Gas, a discussion on energy supplements." We went on from there interviewing people without any preparation, asking them silly questions like, "iphone. Your thoughts?" and, "Where do you see Dell in five years?" as I play with the very handsome intern's hair in a flirty manner and then ask him, "Do you like poetry?" He said no. So inappropriate. So great. Quick transition to me doing yoga in the courtyard, holding a pose, falling. We decided to interview a young, white male on the topic of diversity. I called him Rob, even though his name was Matt. I made him hold a little, blue flag that said "Dell! Diversity Champions!" SO funny. Anyway, great little film, I must say. I'll try and post it if I can manage it.
Since then, Heather and I have had many adventures. She is a great hostess and has thrown some really lovely parties and had many wonderful gatherings. I live in her home now and it is so peaceful and wonderful here. Beyond the beauty, the intelligence, and the adventurous spirit she is genuinely good. Her goodness makes me feel happy and safe. She is still making stuff happen: eating clean, which we're doing together (it's a lifestyle, not a diet), making improvements on her house, doing yoga, shaking things up at Dell, and all the while finding time to be a great friend, a patient listener, and just a fun person to hang out with. I am excited about Heather's future and I am just grateful to be here seeing it unfold. Heather, thank you for inspiring me. I love you.

My friends, chapter 6 : Bobby

When it comes to making my ribs ache from long, loud laughter, nobody does it like Bobby. Bobby is the best! He delivers the perfect combination of serious love and attention and silly nonsensical joy. It's quite a thing. How he balances the potent levels of serious concern and loyal friendship with the giddy, ridiculous, and hilarious bouts of sheer elation we share is quite beyond me. The genius of it is how seamlessly and how, at such quick intervals, this exchange happens in cycles numerous times in any given exchange between us.
I met Bobby in 1997. We were 19 and we shared a best friend, Aaron. Both boys were graduates of Cathedral High School, the all boys Catholic school downtown. Aaron was going to UT and convinced me to move out to Austin. Bobby helped me move. Aaron had already been living in Austin for a year and I was now joining in on the fun. Bobby stayed in El Paso but he came with us on the move and eventually ended up in Austin a few months later. He was in Austin about every other weekend, which was great fun for both me and Aaron.
Bobby and I became friends during a weird time in my life. I had just broken up with a semi-famous musician in El Paso who I had thought I might marry. A few comments sealed our fate though: "You would make the perfect politician's wife," and "I think all of humanity as one giant whole," were among the doomed utterances. It did not pan out in the long run. Then there was my conversion to Mormonism which steered me even further away.
And there was Bobby! Saving the day! All fun and laughter and sunshine! We played like children! One of our favorite activities was recording our thoughts on a hand-held mini-tape recorder. Some of our thoughts were very, very deep....or so we thought....but most of the time we recorded the silliest things you could dream of uttering. I would love to find that stuff! Priceless! Usually it went something like this: We'd be on our way to a party. We would log our predictions for the night, i.e., who would do or say what to whom, who would we encounter, what would they do or say, blah, blah, blah. Then, at the end of the night, which was very often the next day, we would log the realities of the night, whatever did in fact end up happening. Very often our predictions were dead on. Sometimes there were surprises though. For example, we never anticipated our dear friend Michael would spill copious amounts of some dark, mysterious liquid all over his very handsome shirt. We referred to him as "La Mancha", the stain, for the rest of the night. I think we called him that for a few months actually. All of these little surprises were fun to document.
Well, as time pressed on, life took us in two different directions. I eventually got married which swept me off the radar almost completely. Bobby moved to a few different places and was managing restaurants, doing music, singing in a band, etc. I had heard rumors, here and there, about how great the band was, and I was sorry I didn't know more and hadn't seen or heard it for myself. Then, one winter morning, I was enjoying some lovely breakfast tacos at Taco Deli when all of the sudden I see MY BOBBY!!!! It had been over eight years. He heard me virtually scream his name. He turned suddenly and said, "Kristin! When I heard that voice I knew exactly who it was!" It was so good to see him. He explained he was living in San Antonio but would soon be moving back to Austin. I explained I had recently moved back to Austin from Chicago. We quickly caught up in very general terms. We exchanged info and found ourselves on the phone a lot, catching up on many, many, things that life had dealt us. Some of it was amazing. Some of it was heart breaking. All of it was wonderfully expressed and received. There was something very healing about it.
Now, here we are, 2010. Bobby's band, Politics, is amazing. I now know for myself. We check in on each other regularly and I always feel loved after our conversations. He is wise and caring and just as fun as they come. I'll be at his show at the Parish on February 12. Will you? Then we'll go somewhere after the show and I've promised to bring my new recording device. I think I'll log my predictions for the night on the way downtown. Bobby and I will check them after the show.

My friends, chapter 5 : RACHEL

It has been uttered by wise sages for centuries that the holiest place on earth is where an ancient hatred becomes a present love. That is true. In our case, Rachel and I didn't have an ancient hatred for each other. In fact, our volatile beginnings were brief. We did not become instant friends. In fact, initially, we were under the impression that we hated each other. This is so hard to believe because we love each other so dearly now and have for so long. It all started freshman year. I was a 15 year old prima donna and so was she. We were of the same ilk, as it were, and attracted many of the same sets of eyes. I think we were being competitive at first. There were dirty looks exchanged, maybe some snide remarks here and there. I'm not clear on how it happened but there ended up being a huge verbal explosion near our lockers one afternoon that came frightfully close to a cat fight. That was a turning point. Somehow, after that detonation we became friends. I think the blast emitted some mutual respect that we gathered from the ashes. Within weeks we were suddenly pals! Go figure. I found out that that gorgeous little pixie was more than just a prissy, pretty thing. She was poetic and boisterous. She could dance circles around break dancers. She wrote lyrical notes to me that made me laugh and sometimes cry. Rachel loved all sorts of fine things. She introduced me to world music of all kinds from many different places. She played vinyl records. We went to shows, cafes, poetry readings, drum circles, parties, and plays. The most fun I had with her was just sitting around talking. We ran in diverse circles and had many, many adventures. We were inseparable for a couple of years.
Rachel moved to Oklahoma our senior year. I was pretty lost for a while. My freshman year of college she came to visit and stayed with me for Christmas. My boyfriend's best friend fell in love with her the minute he saw her and dumped his long standing girlfriend just for a shot at Rachel. Alas, it was short lived. He cried at the airport when she flew back. She was giggling like, "Oh, you poor fool." They never saw each other again. He was pretty mad that the long distance thing didn't survive. I had to take a verbal beating for that. Poor, poor boy. Things like that happened all the time with Rachel. It's not her fault she's so dang gorgeous and fun! Poor tortured boys. Their hearts were never the same.
Eventually, we grew up. She was one of my bride's maids. I'll never forget her reaction to my ex-husband upon meeting him, "You must be in love. There's just no other explanation." I love the honesty. She married Dario, who happens to be the best guy in the known universe. They have two gorgeous children, Giovanna and Hadriel, whom I adore and miss.
Rachel and I love to cook together, eat together, shop, talk, laugh and sometimes cry. I tell her everything, still. We've never lost touch. She came to my college graduation. She cried she was so proud of me. I love her so. She is such a golden friend, such a find, such a gift. I trust her with all my thoughts and dreams and drama and nightmares. She is sound in character and immense in heart. I love her to no end. Rachel; pixie; prima donna, friend, soul sister.

My friends, chapter 4: Jassem

Jass and I have been having a conversation for the last three years about exactly the same thing. Is there a God? I have stated my position, siting various scriptures, personal experiences, feelings, and other proofs. He's never ever satisfied with my answers. He says there is no definite reason to believe in God. He likes things pristine and austere. He likes everything communicated via math and/or science. I told him math and science were tinker toys compared with the things of God. As beautiful a vehicle it is, and as much as God uses its principles in all creation, what man has discovered so far about its meaning, presence, and uses is simply too elementary, at this point, to use it to prove His existence.
Beyond that conversation, there have been a few others. Jass will talk with me about anything. He always sets things right. In some ways, he's an emotional genius. If anything is bothering me, not only can he readily tell, but he wants to fix it, and he very often does. He is a rare gem. I really have never known another man my own age who is so emotionally in tune with the feelings of others. He is strong and sensitive at the same time.
I met Jass through my friend Doug, whom I adore and will write about very soon. Doug invited Jass to dinner with a group of us, I believe it was the Iguana Cafe on Lake Travis. I liked him immediately. I noticed his quick wit, his general impatience with anything less than wonderful, and his kind nature. After dinner we found ourselves at Doug's. We played Rock Band. I love to sing in that game. Then we went swimming. After that we talked for approximately three hours about whether or not there was a God. Now that I think of it, perhaps those three hours were foreshadowing for what the next three years would look/sound like. At the end of the night Jass and I went to our cars and drove away. He let me wear his jacket since it was cold. It was really cute because we stopped at like seven stop lights in a row and wound up right next to each other each time, and each time we rolled down our windows and talked a little bit more. It was so funny.
After that, I was hooked. He became one of my favorites instantly and I found myself missing him at odd and unexpected times. We began taking meals together on a regular basis and talking a lot via gchat and phone. At late hours he often spoke in an Armenian accent. I still haven't figured out why but I love that.
Jass has given me miles of great advice. Sometimes I take it and other times I do my own thing, often to his chagrin and my temporary demise. He has given me tremendous gifts through his friendship. I can actually credit him with getting me out of the funk of my divorce. He made me feel normal again. He also took the time to listen to the whole, horrible story, in bits and pieces, over months and years, and helped me put it into perspective, noting why some of those things may have happened and how none of them were my fault. I can't tell you how badly I needed to hear that and believe it. Somehow, after we talked about it, it sunk in. I seriously do not know how I would have recovered without his help. He doesn't like it when I say this but I know God sent him to me. He doesn't like feeling like a puppet but what he may not realize is he's not really a puppet so much as an instrument. Little does he know how much good he's done for God's cause, not just for me but for everyone he encounters. He is beloved wherever he goes. Well, whatever the motive, he has blessed my life tremendously and I love him immensely. Jassy, you make me smile. I look forward to our next three year conversation. New Topic: Gardening.

My friends, chapter 2: CHRISTY

Christy Kizerian is a wonder. I met her in the fall of '98. I had thrown myself into a culture I knew next to nothing about. Growing up, I had had very few Mormon friends. Those I did have you would hardly call Mormon, in the true sense. Heathen was much more accurate. Anyhow, there I was, trying my darnedest not to look clueless, failing miserably I'm sure, and there she was. She looked clueless too but not for the same reason. We were put together at a game night activity at the Relief Society president's home. We had both forgotten how checkers was played. So, as we strained to remember whether you could jump two pieces at a time or not, we ended up bagging the whole pursuit and talking instead. It turned out, neither of us cared for board games and we pretended to play just so no one would hassle us, or worse, find out we didn't know how to play checkers.
Who was this giggly girl? She was the picture of innocence. I had never had a friend like her. Most of my friends were savvy, cynical, and careworn by age 19. She was bubbling with an unabashed bliss. Where did this joy come from? How could I ever hope to understand such a thing? She told me all about her life as a ballerina, her first month at college, and her crush on a certain handsome young man we both knew. I told her very little about myself at first. I didn't want to scare her. Our life stories wouldn't be published in same book. Indeed, it is possible they wouldn't even be sold in the same store.
Before too long we were inseparable. I found ways to explain my background to her. She didn't judge me. She was always kind and accepting. At that point it seemed necessary to explain since it was such a recent change and I really knew very little about being a young Mormon person. I suppose I wanted someone to help me acclimate culturally and understand where I was coming from. We talked about anything and everything. She taught me many things about fitness, scriptures, old movies, and cooking. I taught her about flirting, dating, music, and philosophy. I found it amazing that I had more fun doing perfectly harmless things with Christy than I had ever had being careless and reckless with other friends. And there was the added bonus of no guilt attached! It was as if a whole new reality was opening itself up to me. I remember the elation well.
Christy and I spent a lot of our time laughing. We were in the habit of eating at Kirby Lane Cafe. It turns out, Christy hated the cuisine but never had the heart to tell me until years had gone by. There I was thinking she loved it just as much as I did! (Teenage taste buds aren't that discerning you know.)
We went to her parent's house in Corpus Christy for spring break that year. She still had her crush on the hottest guy in the ward/world. I had a crush on the smartest guy in the ward/world. We wrote their names in the sand on the beach with long sticks. Christy assured me doing so would guarantee the longevity of the relationships. It might have worked if it weren't for that blasted wind storm! Alas, my relationship with that genius boy only lasted about a year. Hers was a bit shorter with her man but I think that was because she was scared of the size of his biceps. ;) Either that or her interests went elsewhere. I don't quite remember.
The years went by and a lot has happened. Christy was a bride's maid at my wedding. She came with me on my move to Chicago. We drove in my car for three days. She helped me get moved in and settled. She received me with open arms in my broken state when I returned to Austin after my divorce, just a year later. It was her turn to coach me about how to be a savvy single girl. I had completely forgotten after six and a half years. Then I was her bride's maid, maid of honor. I gave a teary speech. I was at the hospital the day her baby, Claire, was born. I've spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, spring break, and summer days at her parent's home. We still talk nearly every day. She reads everything I write. She listens to all my hopes, fears, joys, mishaps, disasters, and ideas. She 's the first person I run to when I need honest advice. I honestly don't know who I might have become without her influence in my life.
Christina, Christina, the ballerina, to you, my dear, dear, and very best friend, I love you.

Conversion

Picture it: May, 1998. El Paso, TX. Living with my parents in the suburbs. It was a tough time because I was in the middle of a huge lifestyle change. I was leaving a lot behind; some good, some bad. I had spent the bulk of my teenage years as a very passive agnostic. "I don't know and I don't think I wanna know.....yet" was virtually my motto. I had spent those years as the faithful girlfriend of a semi-celebrated musician in El Paso. Well, one, and then another. Anyway, that's not the important part (though it is a fun story..later, later). Point is, I was now utterly alone in a new place, or at least it felt that way. I had friends I had known forever. Problem was, they were all doing all the things I had been doing for years and those were the things I knew I had to leave behind. Once my relationship with semi-celebrated musician No. 2 went south, artistic differences ;), I found myself questioning many things. For some reason, questions around existence, the meaning of life, the afterlife, etc. had found their way to my brain and were now making themselves quite a nuisance. I read philosophy voraciously, looking for answers. Too bad philosophy can only offer more and more questions. Fun to read but no solace. None. Would I have to turn to religion? The institution I had thought for so long was fraught with utter nonsense? The hypocrisy! The injustice! The folklore! The downright silliness and ridiculousness of it all! My brain fought hard against it. Still, the need for answers was stronger than the internal argument and the rather snotty, quasi-intellectual tendencies. I started reading about religion. I really wanted to be Jewish. There was something very pleasing about all the tradition and history. Alas, it didn't fill the void. Not that I tried very hard but Judaism isn't avid for converts. I looked into THE NEW CHRISTIANITY but I found it lacking the structure I sought. Resorting to the faith of my youth, I reluctantly decided to take the Mormon missionary discussions. I thought it would be worthwhile to try and scratch them off the list post haste, easing my conscience and showing my parents I had at least given it a fair shot. Problem was, by the third discussion, I knew it was true. It was as if it was to my own demise! It was, in fact, to the demise of the life and much of the self I had been existing in/as for most my life up to that point. Once I knew there was no point denying it. I couldn't fight it and I didn't want to waste any more time in illusion. There WAS a God, He abides by certain undeniable principles, we are His offspring, and I had better get with the program and align myself with these realities sooner rather than later or I would end up paying the price. What price? Missed opportunities to serve. Missed opportunities to learn. Missed opportunities in/with relationships. Missed opportunities for growth and development. And when it comes to missing opportunities, the saddest thing to consider is what you might have realized. And what you might have realized, noticed, or seen could have changed things, and drastically at that. What I am really saying is, the real price is the person you might have become. I couldn't take another minute pretending not to care. I did care, and how. I was overcome with a feeling of hope and trust In God. I was sorry for all the reckless, senseless, mean, rotten things I had done. I wanted to change and I was willing to do the work. So I had to sever some relationships. I had to stop frequenting certain haunts I had loved. There were certain practices and ideas I had to drop. I won't say it was easy, but I will tell you it felt very good. Some people were angry, others annoyed, some inspired, still others perplexed. I couldn't get too worked up about anyone else's reaction to my conversion. I only knew, and I knew I knew, that this was my path. How did I know? There is a distinct feeling associated with truth. There are zillions of lovely ideas, interesting notions, marvelous concepts of all shapes and kinds. But not all of those communicate to the soul the way truth does. I have learned the difference between the feeling I get when I experience something genius and when I experience something good, as in true, from a divine source. This was different, all these feelings I was getting talking with the missionaries. It wasn't overly intriguing, new, or intricately complex, or fascinating. But it was true. In the end, that was enough.
I moved to Austin. I started attending church each Sunday. I started attending institute classes during the week to learn more. I felt awkward often, as I was surrounded by people who had never tasted alcohol, smoked a cigarette, or kissed passionately......etc. I felt like I didn't really belong. That is, until I met Christy Kizerian. To be continued.....

My friends, chapter 1: ZACH

I am blessed. I am dearly, dearly blessed in my life. I have great friends. I think I should spend some time, now and again, talking about one friend at a time. Should you feel a little squirrely about appearing in/on this blog, please leave a comment to that effect and I will know to use a code name when it's your turn. Zach doesn't get that privilege I guess, 'cause he's first.
Zach and I grew up in exactly the same place at exactly the same time but we never met. El Paso, just on different sides of town. I grew up in the middle of the east side suburbs. He lived all the way on the other side of town, on the west side where all the rich kids grew up. We met in El Paso at a party but we never really talked much or got to know each other until we both lived in Austin. In 1998 I moved to Austin from El Paso. He was already here, going to UT. When I met him he had long hair in a pony tail. Once we met back up in Austin he had cut his hair and changed his attitude enough to talk to me. We became quick friends. He was good friends with Ryan, my friend since kindergarten, and we all used to hang out. I loved being with them because they let me be Mormon without a hassle. We liked going to shows, coffee shops, galleries, and just eating, chatting, and laughing. Zach was in an honors program at UT; Humanities. We used to talk a lot about religion; he liked the mythological side of it while I enjoyed the practical/applicable aspects. None of his girlfriends ever liked me. There was the one who made fun of me for not drinking saying, "Didn't Jesus Himself partake of wine?" Zach was kind of annoyed with her after she said that. He quickly came to my aid declaring, "We like Kristi not to drink." I don't even think it was a loaded remark but rather, a compliment of sorts. Like, we don't need her to participate in that in order to love her the way we do.
We had a lot of fun over the years. He saw me through some pretty weird transitional times. He even performed a song with me at church, Mormon church! I know that was a stretch for him, but he was a great sport. It was a song he wrote and I wrote lyrics on top of it. It was great. The only semi-difficult part of it was the laughs a certain lyric caused, something about a girl with volcanoes in her chest, an unfortunate metaphor for twenty somethings. Zach and I didn't catch the seeming innuendo. I wish we had. I would have kept the volcano singular instead. Ha ha! Good times.
Well, years came and went. He went with me to the jewelery store when I picked out my engagement ring. He was at my wedding reception, trying to keep Ryan and my brother from ditching the event. He was the only heterosexual guy friend I was allowed to have post-marriage. He moved to Champagne, IL for design school. Ryan went, too. We kept in touch. He ended up moving to Chicago. The following year I ended up there, too. My husband, at the time, got into law school up there. We stayed with Zach as we looked for a place to live, jobs, etc. He was a great host and took us to all kinds of great events and places including ART CHICAGO, a huge exhibit in a massive white tent in Grant Park. He introduced me to Margie's Candies, downtown Chicago, a place to get real hot fudge sundaes from heaven. Why they had a ceiling high, towering display of porcelain Victorian dolls covered in inches of grime and dust I will never know. But, yes, the fudge was life saving, especially during my divorce.
When I called Zach to tell him I was getting divorced he simply said, "Of course you are, Kristi, of course you are," in that knowing, kindly, big brotherly sort of voice. I hadn't even told him the part about the Ukrainian girl! He already knew it would be coming I guess, sooner or later. That reaction alone helped me feel better in a very bleak hour that lasted for about 27 months.
I ended up moving back to Austin. Zach is still up in Chicago. He's publishing books and designing things that make your mouth water and getting really famous. I saw him last weekend at Nomads, a place people apparently go to sing Indie Karaoke. It was great. I sang Morrissey. He sang Cat Power with Ryan. We parted with a forlorn hug. He's so like a brother, and not in the cheesy sense, like that thing you tell boys when they like you too much. No, he is like a soul brother, forever. I love you, Zach.