I did pretty well with my January resolutions overall. I flossed everyday. I read my Bible passage and devotional every evening, save two (it'll be easy enough to catch up). I confess I didn't shine my sink daily, but it was never overwhelmingly messy, so I think that counts. As for the sugar... well, that's a different story. I've modified that goal a little...
So, here they are -- my resolutions for February:
1. To not eat sugar except after a full meal at Bob's.
2. To go to bed by midnight every night (preferably 11).
3. To declutter for 15 minutes every day (Flylady).
As flexibility is key in maintaining my will to keep going, if I don't get to bed by midnight, instead of chucking the idea of a bedtime, I will simply try to get to bed as early after midnight as possible. If I don't declutter for 15 minutes, I'll be satisfied with 5, or 2 things, or whatever...
In addition, I don't exactly have these as resolutions, but rather as guidelines: Friday night is goof-off night, Saturday is laundry and get things done day, Sunday is church day, Wednesday is errands day (I must check my mail every week!). If I don't corral my time, it gets lost and my self-esteem goes down the tubes (where does that expression come from, by the way?).
Of course, with the implementation of monthly goals, continuation of newly formed habits from the previous months is assumed.
Good luck, me!
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Sunday, January 29, 2006
If You're Considering Suicide...
Maybe it's a little strange to mention it on my blog, but I feel compelled for some reason to do so. So, if you're considering suicide, please don't do it. Please. The saying is a little clichéd perhaps, but it's so true that "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem." Even if your problems or state of mind feel permanant, they aren't. Please believe me. Circumstances change. And even when they do remain the same (temporarily), perspectives can change. Perspectives that may make all the difference between your desire to live and your desire to die. Think about this: every life will end in death. That is certain. But how do you want to spend your eternity? I believe that in death the state of our souls in this life is made permanent. If you die a self-inflicted death borne of pain, desperation, isolation, the deception that it will be better for others, a desire for revenge, hatred, rage, sorrow, or whatever emotions are lulling you into thoughts of death, you may be sentencing yourself to an eternity of more of the same, with no hope for change or release. If, on the other hand, you commit yourself to survival and courageously face your problems and pain, your future holds so much promise of joy, usefulness, peacefulness, purpose and blessing even if you cannot see it now.
Perhaps you don't believe in eternity. Perhaps you believe that death means a permanent loss of consciousness. Consider, for a moment, the possibility that you may be wrong. Are you willing to stake not only your life, but your eternity, on your belief that death is merely a peaceful escape from the pain of life?
Please just hold on. Please reach out for help. Please don't punish yourself for someone else's wrongs to you. Please talk to someone you trust. Please dare to say a prayer for deliverance from the darkness pressing in on you. Please don't give up if the first person you talk to doesn't understand or know how to help you best. See a doctor, a counselor, a priest or pastor, a friend, a teacher, or all of these. Try medication or nutritional supplements. Consider the possibility that you have not exhausted your options. Please just keep trying. Please.
There is hope.
How do I know? I've been there. I have spent most of my life (from childhood to adulthood) battling severe depression and depression-inducing anxiety. I have been hospitalized twice -- once for an attempt, and once for suicidal ideation/threats. I am not ashamed to share this because, in my opinion, there is way too much stigma surrounding mental health issues in our society, and the only way to ever reduce this stigma is for sufferers to come forward and have their voices heard. I believe there are many different causes for depression; sometimes the issue is brain chemistry resulting from poor nutrition, low thyroid, stress, etc. Sometimes it's loneliness or a feeling of uselessness. Sometimes the problem is spiritual. I definitely believe that Satan and his demons tempt us by preying on our weaknesses (one of which may be a genetic or biological predisposition to depression). It is not your fault that you are feeling this way but you are responsible for how you choose to cope with it.
Fortunately, for as many times in my life that I have fantasized about suicide (more than I can count), it is no longer an option for me to even think about it. It no longer holds the glamour, the appeal, the promise, the tantalizing allure that it once did. Yes, I still experience the temptation of despair at times, but it no longer holds me in its grip. This change has not happened overnight, but it has happened. Every day that I place my hope, trust and faith in God is a new day to learn, to grow, to hope, to love, to meet the challenges I face, and to grow closer to Him and others. He is there for you.
I realize this post may be insensitive to a reader who has lost someone to suicide, and I would like to offer this thought: "What is impossible with men is possible with God." (Luke 18:27). I believe that God hears and honors your faithful prayers for the soul of your beloved. I do not believe that God turns his back on us ever, even in death. I believe that he yearns after us: "...how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!" (Jesus speaking, in Luke 13:34). I believe that it is we who isolate ourselves from him and that when this is done purposefully and unrepentantly in a sustained manner, it results in the state of the soul known as hell. I am not a theologian and so these words are only a reflection of my own thoughts, but I do believe that prayers on behalf of those who are not able to pray for themselves have great efficacy. For this reason, we should never lose heart!
Perhaps you don't believe in eternity. Perhaps you believe that death means a permanent loss of consciousness. Consider, for a moment, the possibility that you may be wrong. Are you willing to stake not only your life, but your eternity, on your belief that death is merely a peaceful escape from the pain of life?
Please just hold on. Please reach out for help. Please don't punish yourself for someone else's wrongs to you. Please talk to someone you trust. Please dare to say a prayer for deliverance from the darkness pressing in on you. Please don't give up if the first person you talk to doesn't understand or know how to help you best. See a doctor, a counselor, a priest or pastor, a friend, a teacher, or all of these. Try medication or nutritional supplements. Consider the possibility that you have not exhausted your options. Please just keep trying. Please.
There is hope.
How do I know? I've been there. I have spent most of my life (from childhood to adulthood) battling severe depression and depression-inducing anxiety. I have been hospitalized twice -- once for an attempt, and once for suicidal ideation/threats. I am not ashamed to share this because, in my opinion, there is way too much stigma surrounding mental health issues in our society, and the only way to ever reduce this stigma is for sufferers to come forward and have their voices heard. I believe there are many different causes for depression; sometimes the issue is brain chemistry resulting from poor nutrition, low thyroid, stress, etc. Sometimes it's loneliness or a feeling of uselessness. Sometimes the problem is spiritual. I definitely believe that Satan and his demons tempt us by preying on our weaknesses (one of which may be a genetic or biological predisposition to depression). It is not your fault that you are feeling this way but you are responsible for how you choose to cope with it.
Fortunately, for as many times in my life that I have fantasized about suicide (more than I can count), it is no longer an option for me to even think about it. It no longer holds the glamour, the appeal, the promise, the tantalizing allure that it once did. Yes, I still experience the temptation of despair at times, but it no longer holds me in its grip. This change has not happened overnight, but it has happened. Every day that I place my hope, trust and faith in God is a new day to learn, to grow, to hope, to love, to meet the challenges I face, and to grow closer to Him and others. He is there for you.
I realize this post may be insensitive to a reader who has lost someone to suicide, and I would like to offer this thought: "What is impossible with men is possible with God." (Luke 18:27). I believe that God hears and honors your faithful prayers for the soul of your beloved. I do not believe that God turns his back on us ever, even in death. I believe that he yearns after us: "...how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!" (Jesus speaking, in Luke 13:34). I believe that it is we who isolate ourselves from him and that when this is done purposefully and unrepentantly in a sustained manner, it results in the state of the soul known as hell. I am not a theologian and so these words are only a reflection of my own thoughts, but I do believe that prayers on behalf of those who are not able to pray for themselves have great efficacy. For this reason, we should never lose heart!
GAAAAH!!!
I have to vent because the dryers don't (well, they do, but seemingly to each other, so that they're always dripping wet inside with scummy buildup and your clothes never dry, especially when other dryers are in use). Here is my biggest pet peeve: I hate it when you pick a time when you don't think anyone else will be doing laundry, and you go downstairs and all the machines are in use, so you come back later, and they're still all in use, and you try again, and finally the laundry room is empty, and you think, oh good, here's my chance, and you load up the washers, and three minutes later someone comes in with what looks like a month's worth of clothes, and they plonk their stuff down right on top of yours so that your stuff is scrunched up against the wall where the sticky detergent goo on the counter was from the last person and they're so disappointed because they were hoping to use the machines, and you apologize and explain that you've been waiting for a really long time too, but you work them in, and then they let their laundry sit for hours and hours in the washers you were planning to use, but you don't want to move it because you think it would be really rude and you don't want them to get mad, and then you wipe out the only dryers you feel are safe to use (the two out of six without the cruddy buildup), and they come along and load their laundry into one of your two freshly cleaned dryers when you're upstairs carrying up the finished load you didn't want to leave sitting (because if you did your clothes would get damp and scummy, plus you have a newly washed load waiting to be dried) and you think, how ironic, because you were there for so long with not a soul in sight and they have to appear and take your dryer during the two minutes you left your clothes unattended and then you wait and you wait because they never come back for their clothes, even though they know you're waiting for that dryer, and after you've gone upstairs again to take more clothes up you come downstairs and someone else has opened up your washing machine which only stopped one minute ago and already they're trying to move your clothes and you have to wash them again and you notice them dumping an entire lint filter into the garbage and banging it around in there to loosen the lint, which is really gross because it's in the depths of the garbage can, and you know what was recently in there, and then they put it back in the dryer (now contaminated), and then the ink runs and makes splotches all over the white fabric of the brand new never-been-worn India print cotton blouse you just got as a present from your mom because you were waiting for the dryer you had cleaned out and it sat in the washer wet which you normally never let your clothes do because just such a thing might happen and besides you think it would be rude if someone else came along and needed a washer and your clothes were just sitting in there, and by the time the person who used the dryer you cleaned out does finally come back, it's all full of streaky pinkish-grey marks and you don't want to use it anymore, and you have to run your dryers twice each time because the dryers vent to each other and the tubes that supposedly vent outside are so stopped up with lint that they're no longer working, especially when more than one person is using the dryers and you've mentioned it to your RAs and they've let Housing know and it was supposed to be fixed ages ago and you thought you'd be done with your laundry by your newly established bedtime and now you're all off track again even though you've put so much energy and effort into trying to reset your sleep schedule by staying up all night to induce sleep deprivation to make yourself tired at night and it's worked and you are tired and all you want to do is take a shower and go to bed and your blood sugar is low because you missed dinner and you still have to fold all your clothes and people are looking at you funny because you're wearing your knee-length paisley skirt and gold jeweled slippers with navy blue athletic socks and white camisole with no bra because you're down to your very last clean clothes which is why you're doing laundry and why you have to get it done before tomorrow when you have to be up early because you're going to church with a friend and you're really embarrassed because you know you look weird and you're worried about leaving your clothes alone again even just to run upstairs to put a load away because someone might touch/move/steal them, and because you're so jumpy and tired and strangely dressed your hallmates now think you're a freak and all I can say is that I really, really, really want my own washer and dryer.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Can You Hear It?
Can you hear it?
No? Try again. Turn down the music.
Can you hear it?
Still no? Turn off the cell phone. Don't worry, they'll call back.
Can you hear it?
Hmmm. Okay, we gotta leave. Your house, these walls, these things. It's out there, and it must be heard.
Can you hear it?
Your books won't help you. Nor your laptops.
Can you hear it?
Further now. Let's get away from the noise and the chatter.
Can you hear it?
Those prescriptions, subscriptions and memberships can't get it done. Leave behind your cards.
Can you hear it?
It sounds familiar? Sure, but you've never heard it before.
Can you hear it?
Have you been taught about it? I'm sure you have, but this is a time to listen, not learn.
Can you hear it?
You have to hear it.
Listen.
All is still.... Listen.
It's faint.
It's coming from the desert.
He is singing.
Listen hard. No water makes one's voice crack. Still, he is singing.
Can you hear it?
Over there in the field. There are many voices. They are deep and soulful.
No, not the laughing voices, the singing ones.
Can you hear it?
It's getting louder now.
It's coming from that old building, the one with the fancy glass.
It's coming from that street corner.
That auditorium, that hotel, that classroom.
Hear the guitars, drums and turntables.
Hear the pianos, organs and harps.
It's echoing in beautiful cathedrals.
It's rising above crying children and gun shots.
Over there
Can you hear it?
Your phone, it's ringing.
Your email is chirping.
Your TV is blaring.
Which choir will you join?
Can you hear it?
--Jeremiah Nealon
No? Try again. Turn down the music.
Can you hear it?
Still no? Turn off the cell phone. Don't worry, they'll call back.
Can you hear it?
Hmmm. Okay, we gotta leave. Your house, these walls, these things. It's out there, and it must be heard.
Can you hear it?
Your books won't help you. Nor your laptops.
Can you hear it?
Further now. Let's get away from the noise and the chatter.
Can you hear it?
Those prescriptions, subscriptions and memberships can't get it done. Leave behind your cards.
Can you hear it?
It sounds familiar? Sure, but you've never heard it before.
Can you hear it?
Have you been taught about it? I'm sure you have, but this is a time to listen, not learn.
Can you hear it?
You have to hear it.
Listen.
All is still.... Listen.
It's faint.
It's coming from the desert.
He is singing.
Listen hard. No water makes one's voice crack. Still, he is singing.
"You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry."It's the song of a yet to be crowned king.
Can you hear it?
Over there in the field. There are many voices. They are deep and soulful.
No, not the laughing voices, the singing ones.
"Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home"The song of a stolen family.
Can you hear it?
It's getting louder now.
It's coming from that old building, the one with the fancy glass.
It's coming from that street corner.
That auditorium, that hotel, that classroom.
Hear the guitars, drums and turntables.
Hear the pianos, organs and harps.
It's echoing in beautiful cathedrals.
It's rising above crying children and gun shots.
Over there
"We will overcome"Over there
"Be thou my vision"And there
"Blessed be the name of the Lord"(pause)
Can you hear it?
Your phone, it's ringing.
Your email is chirping.
Your TV is blaring.
Which choir will you join?
Can you hear it?
--Jeremiah Nealon
I'm thinking I'm lovin' it really is finger lickin' good to the last drop!
If I were director of an ad campaign...
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Amazing Grace...
Because I am always singing the first stanza of this song whilst wishing I knew the rest, here are the lyrics to "Amazing Grace," composed by John Newton for "Olney Hymns" (a hymnal written for weekly prayer meetings conducted in Olney, Buckinghamshire, where Newton once served as a minister):
Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev’d;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believ’d!
Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promis’d good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who call’d me here below,
Will be forever mine.
Throughout the years, other writers have added additional verses (perhaps drawing on verses from Newton's other hymns) -- thus the wide variation that can be found in the lyrics to this perenially popular hymn. However, these are the original six stanzas that appeared, with minor spelling variations, in both the first edition of "Olney Hymns," published in 1779, and the 1808 edition, the one nearest the date of Newton’s death.
Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev’d;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believ’d!
Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promis’d good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who call’d me here below,
Will be forever mine.
Throughout the years, other writers have added additional verses (perhaps drawing on verses from Newton's other hymns) -- thus the wide variation that can be found in the lyrics to this perenially popular hymn. However, these are the original six stanzas that appeared, with minor spelling variations, in both the first edition of "Olney Hymns," published in 1779, and the 1808 edition, the one nearest the date of Newton’s death.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Alas and Alack!
I am trying to cure my insomnia (actually delayed sleep phase syndrome) and resultant daytime fatigue, missing of morning classes, tendency to be always rushing and running late, etc. It's time that I rejoin my life and start meeting my daytime commitments. Unfortunately, since I usually feel a surge of energy starting at around 9 p.m., and my creativity tends to peak between the hours of 11 p.m. and 3 a.m., all my ideas are going up in smoke (or should I say snores?) with my new efforts to be in bed by no later than midnight. Alas, I'm still having trouble making it to morning classes. The fact of the matter is that my body will sleep as much as I let it, be it 12 hours or even longer. So going to bed at midnight doesn't necessarily make it easy to get up at, say, eight. Sigh. Why wasn't I blessed with the cheerful, always on-time morning person gene? Why can't I greet the dawn (instead of dusk) with a spring in my step and genuine pleasure at the prospect of a new day? Why? And what is it that will get me there? Is it just a matter of discipline and willingness to relinquish my hold on my nighttime creativity and productivity and force myself into bed at an earlier hour night after night? When will it be less of a struggle?
It's tempting, when I eventually resume my role as a full-time wage-earner, to simply resign myself to a lifetime of working graveyard or swing shift. But, in reality, I honestly find the lack of natural daylight that comes with my vampiric ways incredibly depressing and want desperately to be able to reset my internal clock.
In the meantime, a dearth of blog posts just means I am making myself at least try to simulate a "normal" schedule -- a schedule in which I sleep at night and am awake during the day and make it to my morning classes like any good student should.
It's tempting, when I eventually resume my role as a full-time wage-earner, to simply resign myself to a lifetime of working graveyard or swing shift. But, in reality, I honestly find the lack of natural daylight that comes with my vampiric ways incredibly depressing and want desperately to be able to reset my internal clock.
In the meantime, a dearth of blog posts just means I am making myself at least try to simulate a "normal" schedule -- a schedule in which I sleep at night and am awake during the day and make it to my morning classes like any good student should.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Locked Out
This weekend I accidentally locked myself out of my room. Without my clothes. To the great amusement of my mother, the R.A., and the girl who harbored me in her room while I called the R.A. Fortunately, I had my towel with me, so I wasn't completely humiliated. Note to self: don't leave the room without a pocket in which to put the key.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Note on Multimedia to my Blog Readers
If you are having trouble accessing the videos in Internet Explorer, try Mozilla Firefox instead.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Photograph
I love this Nickelback song and its video. They perfectly capture the melancholy sweetness of remembering what once was...
Friday, January 20, 2006
Jesus Walks
Kanye West's "Jesus Walks" video (church version):
This is probably my favorite of the three different versions of the video. In an interview for MTV news, West said he varied them because "this is a song that is very important to me.... [it] evokes so much emotion, and four minutes of imagery limits the ideas that you're supposed to give for the songs, so I had to do three."
Video courtesy of www.accessvideocodes.com.
This is probably my favorite of the three different versions of the video. In an interview for MTV news, West said he varied them because "this is a song that is very important to me.... [it] evokes so much emotion, and four minutes of imagery limits the ideas that you're supposed to give for the songs, so I had to do three."
Video courtesy of www.accessvideocodes.com.
Bon, to Me
"Have you seen the Saturday Night Live skit about, like, super dorky 'Chronicles of Narnia' fans? Umm, yeah... you kind of remind me of those guys."
Crazy Delicious
Hells yeah! It's that funny.
Here it is, for your viewing pleasure... the Saturday Night Live skit "Lazy Sunday" featuring Andy Samberg and Chris Parnell.
And, as an added bonus, the definitive lyrics:
Lazy Sunday, wake up in the late afternoon.
Call Parnell just to see how he's doin'.
Hello? What up, Parnz? Yo, Samberg, what’s crackin’?
You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’? NARNIA! Then it’s happ’nin’.
But first my hunger pangs are stickin' like duct tape.
Let's hit up Magnolia and mack on some cupcakes.
No doubt that bakery’s got all da bomb frostings.
I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling!
Two... no, six... no, twelve! BAKER'S DOZEN!
I told you that I'm crazy for these cupcakes, cousin.
Yo, where's the movie playin'? Upper West Side, dude.
Well, let's hit up Yahoo! Maps to find the dopest route.
I prefer MapQuest. That's a good one, too!
Google Maps is the best. True dat! Double true!
68 to Broadway. Step on it, sucka!
What you wanna do, Chris? Snack attack, muthaf----!
The Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Yes, the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
We love the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Pass the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Yo, stop at that deli, the theater's overpriced.
You got the backpack? Gonna pack it up nice.
Don't want security to get suspicious.
Mr. Pibb and Red Vines equals crazy delicious!
Yo, reach in my pocket, pull out some dough.
The girl acted like she'd never seen a 10 befo'.
It's all about the Hamiltons, baby!
Throw the snacks in a bag and I'm "Ghost" like Swayze.
Roll up to the theater, ticket-buyin' what we're handlin'.
You can call us Aaron Burr from the way we're droppin' Hamiltons.
Now parked in our seats, movie trivia’s the illest.
What Friends alum starred in films with Bruce Willis?
We answered so fast it was scary.
Everyone stared in awe when we screamed "Matthew Perry!"
Now quiet in the theater or it's gonna get tragic.
We're 'bout to get taken to a dream world of magic.
In the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Yes, the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
We love the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Pass that Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Oh, and by the way, rapper Dr. Dre's album "The Chronic" was released in 2001, "chronic" is another word for marijuana (get it? they have the munchies), and Aaron Burr assassinated Alexander Hamilton, whose face appears on the $10 bill-- in case you're wondering about the cultural references in this hilarious spoof.
Here it is, for your viewing pleasure... the Saturday Night Live skit "Lazy Sunday" featuring Andy Samberg and Chris Parnell.
And, as an added bonus, the definitive lyrics:
Lazy Sunday, wake up in the late afternoon.
Call Parnell just to see how he's doin'.
Hello? What up, Parnz? Yo, Samberg, what’s crackin’?
You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’? NARNIA! Then it’s happ’nin’.
But first my hunger pangs are stickin' like duct tape.
Let's hit up Magnolia and mack on some cupcakes.
No doubt that bakery’s got all da bomb frostings.
I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling!
Two... no, six... no, twelve! BAKER'S DOZEN!
I told you that I'm crazy for these cupcakes, cousin.
Yo, where's the movie playin'? Upper West Side, dude.
Well, let's hit up Yahoo! Maps to find the dopest route.
I prefer MapQuest. That's a good one, too!
Google Maps is the best. True dat! Double true!
68 to Broadway. Step on it, sucka!
What you wanna do, Chris? Snack attack, muthaf----!
The Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Yes, the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
We love the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Pass the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Yo, stop at that deli, the theater's overpriced.
You got the backpack? Gonna pack it up nice.
Don't want security to get suspicious.
Mr. Pibb and Red Vines equals crazy delicious!
Yo, reach in my pocket, pull out some dough.
The girl acted like she'd never seen a 10 befo'.
It's all about the Hamiltons, baby!
Throw the snacks in a bag and I'm "Ghost" like Swayze.
Roll up to the theater, ticket-buyin' what we're handlin'.
You can call us Aaron Burr from the way we're droppin' Hamiltons.
Now parked in our seats, movie trivia’s the illest.
What Friends alum starred in films with Bruce Willis?
We answered so fast it was scary.
Everyone stared in awe when we screamed "Matthew Perry!"
Now quiet in the theater or it's gonna get tragic.
We're 'bout to get taken to a dream world of magic.
In the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Yes, the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
We love the Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Pass that Chronic-what?-cles of Narnia!
Oh, and by the way, rapper Dr. Dre's album "The Chronic" was released in 2001, "chronic" is another word for marijuana (get it? they have the munchies), and Aaron Burr assassinated Alexander Hamilton, whose face appears on the $10 bill-- in case you're wondering about the cultural references in this hilarious spoof.
A Mocha with Whipped Cream
Specifically, a double-shot 2% extra-hot grande mocha with chilled real whipped cream.
It can't solve every problem, but it sure makes the world a better place.
It can't solve every problem, but it sure makes the world a better place.
Is it for Real?
Despite my predilection for the word "really," I still find Taco Time's slogan of "It really is!" incredibly irritating. It really is what? I want to ask. Something? Anything? Nothing at all? "It really is" nonsensical.
Unbeknownst
"Unbeknownst" looks really bizarre if you look at it long enough. It looks like a word from Uzbekistan or something. Not that words in the Uzbek language are bizarre or anything. Just very foreign to the eye of one who doesn't recognize the language. Gosh, um, what I mean to say is... [fumble, fumble, cough, cough].... "Unbeknownst" just looks really strange to me when I stare at it.
Another "Eeeeeeeek!"
So I was just perusing Patience's blog, and I ran across a post of hers titled "Eeeeeeeek!" -- which means that unbeknownst to either of us, we each have separately titled posts "Eeeeeeeek!" That's really sort of creepy. Maybe we are sisters after all.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Mystery Solved
I used to wonder how so many students could go around campus with only a large purse or a small, fashionable satchel to hold their few notebooks, while I lugged around what felt like 100 pounds' worth of books in my extra-large, super-sturdy camper's backpack. While they looked chic and carefree, I was ripping out shoulder seams and incurring future chiropractic expenses. Now I get it! They lived on-campus. They brought only what they needed for their classes, not what they needed for 12-hour study marathons and miles of trekking through rain, sleet or snow to get to and from school.
Now that I live on campus, maybe I'll add a slim, fashionable satchel to my wish list. My mom will praise my posture and the chiropractor I no longer need will curse me.
Now that I live on campus, maybe I'll add a slim, fashionable satchel to my wish list. My mom will praise my posture and the chiropractor I no longer need will curse me.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
A Tribute to Hillary
Who reads my blog, is one of my bestest Facebook pals, and is just generally a lovely person.
Kapol
Although my last post was about dancing the polka, to my eyes it just looks like kapol, kapol, kapol... over and over again. Have you ever noticed that if you look at a word for a really long time or see it written over and over again, it begins to look bizarre and unrecognizable? (Am I the only one who has ever done this? If not, I'm probably the only one who would actually admit to it!) Anyway, divorced from its meaning, on the page it begins to take on the form and likeness of a word in a foreign language. And I think, so this is what it must look like to a non-native speaker!
Before you decide that I have gone mad, consider those audio programs designed to increase sensitivity in English speakers towards those learning the language; they take sounds and rhythms from spoken English and mix and garble them so that English speakers can "hear" what non-native speakers hear when they listen to spoken English without understanding it. I am not making this up. I learned about it when I was taking theater classes way back in the day.
Well, intrepid word investigator that I am, I decided to look up "kapol" in the dictionary. It doesn't exist, at least not in the English language. So if "kapol" were an English word, what would it mean?
Before you decide that I have gone mad, consider those audio programs designed to increase sensitivity in English speakers towards those learning the language; they take sounds and rhythms from spoken English and mix and garble them so that English speakers can "hear" what non-native speakers hear when they listen to spoken English without understanding it. I am not making this up. I learned about it when I was taking theater classes way back in the day.
Well, intrepid word investigator that I am, I decided to look up "kapol" in the dictionary. It doesn't exist, at least not in the English language. So if "kapol" were an English word, what would it mean?
Polka
polkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolka
polkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolka
polkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolka...
I'd rather dance than make war.
polkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolka
polkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolkapolka...
I'd rather dance than make war.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Bring on the SparkNotes!
A TALE OF TWO CITIES
By Charles Dickens
BOOK THE FIRST: RECALLED TO LIFE
I: THE PERIOD
IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.
It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.
France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.
In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and challenged by his whom he stopped in his character of "the Captain," gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the mall was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, "in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:" after which the mall was robbed in peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of sixpence.
All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures—the creatures of this chronicle among the rest—along the roads that lay before them.
By Charles Dickens
BOOK THE FIRST: RECALLED TO LIFE
I: THE PERIOD
IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.
It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.
France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.
In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and challenged by his whom he stopped in his character of "the Captain," gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the mall was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, "in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:" after which the mall was robbed in peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of sixpence.
All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures—the creatures of this chronicle among the rest—along the roads that lay before them.
The Great Poke Wars of the 21st Century
This is what I have to say to my poke war opponents:
Poke infinity x infinity to the infinite power! Wow, that made poking sound kind of religious. Never mind. Poke infinity x infinity to the infinitieth (is that a word?) power!
Poke infinity x infinity to the infinite power! Wow, that made poking sound kind of religious. Never mind. Poke infinity x infinity to the infinitieth (is that a word?) power!
ur
It's possibly one of the most multi-purpose abbreviations for Internet use: "ur" can mean either "you're" or "your." For that it deserves admiration. Yet it evokes other heinous distortions of the language such as cutesy spellings ("lite" for "light"), inappropriate uses of quotation marks, random capitalizations, unwillingness to ever capitalize, etcetera [shudders]. If I ever actually use "ur," just know that I am having a Flowers for Algernon moment.
Insanity
I just learned that most Americans spend more on health care than they do on food. Probably to fix all the problems created by our crappy diets. Excuse me, to attempt to fix all the problems created by our crappy diets.
I'm really grateful for the salad bar at Bob's, that's all I can say.
I'm really grateful for the salad bar at Bob's, that's all I can say.
Wherefore Art Thou, Bon?
I need lip gloss and a confidante. What a beautiful combination, my sister.
"Tristan & Isolde" P.S.
To the scriptwriters, screenwriters, or whoever was responsible...
The historical time period was the "Middle Ages," not the "Dark Ages." You could even have said Medieval times or something -- anything but "Dark Ages." Grrrrr.
The historical time period was the "Middle Ages," not the "Dark Ages." You could even have said Medieval times or something -- anything but "Dark Ages." Grrrrr.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
A Small Victory
Last night, I went to a movie and bought popcorn and sat down and ate it. Without washing my hands first. After handling money! I just didn't feel like getting up.
Boycott Cheap Monday jeans
This is what I want to know: how would the world react if Cheap Monday jeans were specifically intended as "an active statement" against Judaism or Islam? Would tolerance be a virtue then?
'Devilish' Jeans a Hot Seller in Sweden
'Cheap Monday' Brand Jeans Are a Hot Trend in Sweden, Despite Their Anti-Christian Skull Logo
By Karl Ritter
Associated Press
STOCKHOLM, Sweden - Cheap Monday jeans are a hot commodity among young Swedes thanks to their trendy tight fit and low price, even if a few buyers are turned off by the logo: a skull with a cross turned upside down on its forehead.
Logo designer Bjorn Atldax says he's not just trying for an antiestablishment vibe.
"It is an active statement against Christianity," Atldax told The Associated Press. "I'm not a Satanist myself, but I have a great dislike for organized religion."
The label's makers say it's more of a joke, but Atldax insists his graphic designs have a purpose beyond selling denim: to make young people question Christianity, a "force of evil" that he blames for sparking wars throughout history.
In more religious countries, that might raise a furious response, maybe even prompt retailers to drop the brand.
Not in Sweden, a secular country that cherishes its free speech and where churchgoing has been declining for decades.
Cheap Mondays are flying off the shelves at 400 kronor (about $50) a pair. Makers say about 200,000 pairs have been sold since March 2004 and little attention has been paid to the grinning skull and dark texts such as "Over My Dead Body."
Even the predominant Lutheran Church of Sweden reacts with a shrug.
"I don't think it's much to be horrified about," said Bo Larsson, director of the Church of Sweden's department of Education, Research and Culture.
"It is abundantly clear that this designer wants to create public opinion against the Christian faith ... but I believe that the way to deal with this is to start a discussion about what religion means."
Out in the parishes, however, some Christians believe that approach is too soft.
"One cannot just keep quiet about this," said the Rev. Karl-Erik Nylund, vicar of St. Mary Magdalene Church in Stockholm. "This is a deliberate provocation (against Christians) and I object to that."
Nylund complained that Swedish companies do not treat Christianity with the same respect in marketing that they afford other religions.
"No one wants to provoke Jews or Muslims, but it's totally OK to provoke Christians," he said.
Some buyers have ripped off the Cheap Monday labels, or even returned the jeans once they realized what the logo represents. But such cases are very few, said Orjan Andersson, the creator of the brand, who doesn't take Atldax' message too seriously.
"I don't believe in neither the devil nor God. I'm not interested in religion," he said. "I'm more interested in that the logo looks good."
Henrik Petersson, 26, said he picked up his first pair of Cheap Monday jeans a few months after they were launched because he liked their punk-rocker style and the logo caught his eye.
"I think it's a cool thing. It stands out from the rest," he said. "I haven't really reflected over whether there is an underlying message."
Martin Sundberg, a 32-year-old co-owner of a clothing store in Stockholm's trendy SoFo district, said he didn't think the logo has a "deeper meaning."
"It's just supposed to be a bit of fun, some kind of anti-culture," he said.
Cheap Mondays have started to sell abroad. The jeans are being shipped to Norway, Denmark, Britain, the Netherlands, France and Australia. Andersson said they're working on introducing them in the United States and elsewhere.
And he did not expect the ungodly logo to get in the way.
"Surely, most people understand that we are not evil people," he said, laughing. "My mom doesn't think so at least."
'Devilish' Jeans a Hot Seller in Sweden
'Cheap Monday' Brand Jeans Are a Hot Trend in Sweden, Despite Their Anti-Christian Skull Logo
By Karl Ritter
Associated Press
STOCKHOLM, Sweden - Cheap Monday jeans are a hot commodity among young Swedes thanks to their trendy tight fit and low price, even if a few buyers are turned off by the logo: a skull with a cross turned upside down on its forehead.
Logo designer Bjorn Atldax says he's not just trying for an antiestablishment vibe.
"It is an active statement against Christianity," Atldax told The Associated Press. "I'm not a Satanist myself, but I have a great dislike for organized religion."
The label's makers say it's more of a joke, but Atldax insists his graphic designs have a purpose beyond selling denim: to make young people question Christianity, a "force of evil" that he blames for sparking wars throughout history.
In more religious countries, that might raise a furious response, maybe even prompt retailers to drop the brand.
Not in Sweden, a secular country that cherishes its free speech and where churchgoing has been declining for decades.
Cheap Mondays are flying off the shelves at 400 kronor (about $50) a pair. Makers say about 200,000 pairs have been sold since March 2004 and little attention has been paid to the grinning skull and dark texts such as "Over My Dead Body."
Even the predominant Lutheran Church of Sweden reacts with a shrug.
"I don't think it's much to be horrified about," said Bo Larsson, director of the Church of Sweden's department of Education, Research and Culture.
"It is abundantly clear that this designer wants to create public opinion against the Christian faith ... but I believe that the way to deal with this is to start a discussion about what religion means."
Out in the parishes, however, some Christians believe that approach is too soft.
"One cannot just keep quiet about this," said the Rev. Karl-Erik Nylund, vicar of St. Mary Magdalene Church in Stockholm. "This is a deliberate provocation (against Christians) and I object to that."
Nylund complained that Swedish companies do not treat Christianity with the same respect in marketing that they afford other religions.
"No one wants to provoke Jews or Muslims, but it's totally OK to provoke Christians," he said.
Some buyers have ripped off the Cheap Monday labels, or even returned the jeans once they realized what the logo represents. But such cases are very few, said Orjan Andersson, the creator of the brand, who doesn't take Atldax' message too seriously.
"I don't believe in neither the devil nor God. I'm not interested in religion," he said. "I'm more interested in that the logo looks good."
Henrik Petersson, 26, said he picked up his first pair of Cheap Monday jeans a few months after they were launched because he liked their punk-rocker style and the logo caught his eye.
"I think it's a cool thing. It stands out from the rest," he said. "I haven't really reflected over whether there is an underlying message."
Martin Sundberg, a 32-year-old co-owner of a clothing store in Stockholm's trendy SoFo district, said he didn't think the logo has a "deeper meaning."
"It's just supposed to be a bit of fun, some kind of anti-culture," he said.
Cheap Mondays have started to sell abroad. The jeans are being shipped to Norway, Denmark, Britain, the Netherlands, France and Australia. Andersson said they're working on introducing them in the United States and elsewhere.
And he did not expect the ungodly logo to get in the way.
"Surely, most people understand that we are not evil people," he said, laughing. "My mom doesn't think so at least."
Just Saw "Tristan & Isolde"...
Isolde, you idiot! Lord Marke (in this film, played by Rufus Sewell) is kind, noble, strong, emotionally generous, loving, gentle, intelligent and handsome. You blind, silly girl.
Friday, January 13, 2006
This is a Test. This is Only a Test.
My one loyal reader (I have a loyal reader!) has requested an email every time I update my blog. This is a test of the Email Broadcast System. This blogger in voluntary cooperation with said loyal reader has developed this system to keep her informed in the event of a post. If this had been an actual blog post, what you have just read would have been followed by official information, news or thoughts. This concludes this test of the Email Broadcast System.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Great, That's Just Great.
This, from "Behind the Name: the etymology and history of first names" at http://www.behindthename.com:
The name "Cheyenne" is derived from the Dakota word shahiyena meaning "unintelligible speakers."
Well, I prefer to think of my name as simply meaning "human being" in the language of the Cheyenne people (as was once told to me by my mother). Humble but not insignificant.
The name "Cheyenne" is derived from the Dakota word shahiyena meaning "unintelligible speakers."
Well, I prefer to think of my name as simply meaning "human being" in the language of the Cheyenne people (as was once told to me by my mother). Humble but not insignificant.
Baby Names
Yes, I am single with no children, but that hasn't stopped me from pondering the possibilities of baby names.
For girls:
Ursula Rose (Ursula's the name of a revered mentor and friend)
Olivia Violet (my firstborn daughter would definitely be so named)
Did you know? Shakespeare first created the name "Olivia" for a character in "Twelfth Night." I like the association with the olive tree, which represents peace.
Mercy (a character in The Witch of Blackbird Pond)
Laurel (I'm all about the plant names)
Judith (after my favorite aunt and also the name of a wonderful friend)
Marlee (after another beloved and admired aunt)
Noelle (How could you not love a name that means "Christmas"?)
Irene
Isabelle
Anna (my childhood best friend and just a beautiful name)
Bronwyn (yet another one of my favorite people)
Katherine (for a middle name)
Elizabeth (for a middle name)
Sophie (after Sophie Scholl)
I like alliteration in first and middle names, especially when a middle consonant from the first name becomes the first letter of the middle name (like in URsula Rose and OliVia Violet). Or vice versa (like in Laurel IsabeLLe). It's bad if they rhyme, unless the emphasis is on different syllables. Don't ask me why. I'm an English major, what can I say?
For boys:
Noah
Isaiah
Zechariah (I really like names that end in "h" or "iah", obviously)
Isaac
Jacob
Levi
Noel
Oliver
James
The biblical theme is unintentional but not without its merits.
I like the idea of my husband's first name becoming our firstborn son's middle name.
Presumptious? Perhaps.
As a side note, www.babynameworld.com is a great resource for names sorted by ethnic/cultural origin.
For girls:
Ursula Rose (Ursula's the name of a revered mentor and friend)
Olivia Violet (my firstborn daughter would definitely be so named)
Did you know? Shakespeare first created the name "Olivia" for a character in "Twelfth Night." I like the association with the olive tree, which represents peace.
Mercy (a character in The Witch of Blackbird Pond)
Laurel (I'm all about the plant names)
Judith (after my favorite aunt and also the name of a wonderful friend)
Marlee (after another beloved and admired aunt)
Noelle (How could you not love a name that means "Christmas"?)
Irene
Isabelle
Anna (my childhood best friend and just a beautiful name)
Bronwyn (yet another one of my favorite people)
Katherine (for a middle name)
Elizabeth (for a middle name)
Sophie (after Sophie Scholl)
I like alliteration in first and middle names, especially when a middle consonant from the first name becomes the first letter of the middle name (like in URsula Rose and OliVia Violet). Or vice versa (like in Laurel IsabeLLe). It's bad if they rhyme, unless the emphasis is on different syllables. Don't ask me why. I'm an English major, what can I say?
For boys:
Noah
Isaiah
Zechariah (I really like names that end in "h" or "iah", obviously)
Isaac
Jacob
Levi
Noel
Oliver
James
The biblical theme is unintentional but not without its merits.
I like the idea of my husband's first name becoming our firstborn son's middle name.
Presumptious? Perhaps.
As a side note, www.babynameworld.com is a great resource for names sorted by ethnic/cultural origin.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Creepy
Okay, I like Arby's as much as the next girl, but the advertising for the new "Chicken Naturals" has me shuddering. The ad on my jalepeno bites box today featured a row of chickens looking plump and contented, with one little chicken eyeing another and saying "100% scrumptious." Pardon me, but eeeeewwwwww! It's like chicken cannibalism! Also, what's with advertising that it's 100% chicken or "all chicken chicken." If it wasn't 100% chicken, what would it be? Never mind, don't answer that. I really, really don't want to know.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
"Forgiving Our Fathers"
Read during the final scene, this poem is just one of the reasons I love the film Smoke Signals.
-Dick Lourie
(Originally published in a longer version titled "Forgiving Our Fathers" in a book of poems titled Ghost Radio.)
How do we forgive our fathers?
Maybe in a dream.
Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often,
or forever,
when we were little?
Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage,
or for making us nervous
because there never seemed to be any rage there at all?
Do we forgive our fathers for marrying,
or not marrying,
our mothers?
Or divorcing,
or not divorcing,
our mothers?
And shall we forgive them for their excesses
of warmth
or coldness?
Shall we forgive them
for pushing
or leaning?
For shutting doors?
For speaking through walls?
Or never speaking?
Or never being silent?
Do we forgive our fathers in our age or in theirs?
Or in their deaths,
saying it to them,
or not saying it?
If we forgive our fathers, what is left?
Maybe in a dream.
Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often,
or forever,
when we were little?
Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage,
or for making us nervous
because there never seemed to be any rage there at all?
Do we forgive our fathers for marrying,
or not marrying,
our mothers?
Or divorcing,
or not divorcing,
our mothers?
And shall we forgive them for their excesses
of warmth
or coldness?
Shall we forgive them
for pushing
or leaning?
For shutting doors?
For speaking through walls?
Or never speaking?
Or never being silent?
Do we forgive our fathers in our age or in theirs?
Or in their deaths,
saying it to them,
or not saying it?
If we forgive our fathers, what is left?
-Dick Lourie
(Originally published in a longer version titled "Forgiving Our Fathers" in a book of poems titled Ghost Radio.)
"On My Doorstep"
I came across this on another blog, and I had to quote it. I thought it was so beautiful; I don't want to forget these sentiments.
"This morning I woke up to a gift. It was clean and fresh, like the early morning before anyone stirs. It smelled of beauty and adventure. Time had wrapped up 365 days in memory, mixed with sadness and joys. Every moment and memory that was dispersed throughout my heart and mind was gathered and packed into one and wrapped up to sit on some shelf with 21 other years. And this morning I, you, we were given another new one. New birthdays, holidays, mom days, dad days, celebrations, camping trips, packages to be wrapped and Saturdays to sleep in. Four new seasons, 12 new months,and 365 new days to create, dream, adventure in, believe, hope, pray, change, and grow.
Happy New Year!"
-Andrea G L, January 1st, in a post titled "On My Doorstep" in her "Simple Meets City" blog
"This morning I woke up to a gift. It was clean and fresh, like the early morning before anyone stirs. It smelled of beauty and adventure. Time had wrapped up 365 days in memory, mixed with sadness and joys. Every moment and memory that was dispersed throughout my heart and mind was gathered and packed into one and wrapped up to sit on some shelf with 21 other years. And this morning I, you, we were given another new one. New birthdays, holidays, mom days, dad days, celebrations, camping trips, packages to be wrapped and Saturdays to sleep in. Four new seasons, 12 new months,and 365 new days to create, dream, adventure in, believe, hope, pray, change, and grow.
Happy New Year!"
-Andrea G L, January 1st, in a post titled "On My Doorstep" in her "Simple Meets City" blog
Monday, January 02, 2006
Favorite Quotes, Poems and Excerpts
"I don't have time for instant coffee!"
-Me (and then I realized how incredibly silly that sounded) :)
"Nothing's clean, baby, but we do the best we can, don't we?"
-Ava Gardner to Howard Hughes in "The Aviator"
"But it ain't our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no, we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set our course by that--what it's right to do."
-Anne's House of Dreams by Lucy Maud Montgomery
"The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than the courage of a final moment; but it is no less a magnificent mixture of triumph and tragedy."
-JFK
This is the truth, not just a poem.
This is a poem and not just the truth.
-Linda Hogan (Chickasaw)
I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now, I don't know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of
my children.
You are not my blood anymore.
I give you back to the white soldiers
who burned down my home, beheaded my children,
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.
I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.
I release you
I release you
I release you
I release you
I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved,
to be loved, to be loved, fear.
Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.
I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't take you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart
But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid
of dying.
-Joy Harjo (Muskogee)
Fear is a liar, poisoning today
with fantasies of what
may come tomorrow
Until each joy is shadowed
by a sorrow
And, dreading it, we leak our
lives away.
If we have mate and child
we fear to part.
And if we long, we fear we
won't attain
And, snatching at it - even as
we gain - forfeit the heaven,
the harmony, the heart.
Fear is a liar.
Truth is what God molds our
days in love
And with the same precision
as he makes a wing for
flight or petal fold within
a sheath, or shapes an eye
for vision
He hands us strength to welcome
what is right.
Then, swift and sudden, hurls us
our delight.
-Anonymous
Not one day in anyone’s life . . . is an uneventful day, no day without profound meaning, no matter how dull and boring it might seem, no matter whether you are a seamstress or a queen, a shoeshine boy or a movie star, a renowned philosopher or a Down’s syndrome child. Because in every day of your life, there are opportunities to perform little kindnesses for others, both by conscious acts of will and unconscious example. Each smallest act of kindness – even just words of hope when they are needed, the remembrance of a birthday, a compliment that engenders a smile – reverberates across great distances and spans of time, affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo, because kindness is passed on and grows each time it’s passed, until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and far away. Likewise, each small meanness, each thoughtless expression of hatred, each envious and bitter act, regardless of how petty, can inspire others, and is therefore the seed that ultimately produces evil fruit, poisoning people whom you have never met and never will. All human lives are so profoundly and intricately entwined – those dead, those living, those generations yet to come – that the fate of all is the fate of each, and the hope of humanity rests in every heart and in every pair of hands. Therefore, after every failure, we are obliged to strive again for success, and when faced with the end of one thing, we must build something new and better in the ashes, just as from pain and grief, we must weave hope, for each of us is a thread critical to the strength – to the very survival -- of the human tapestry. Every hour in every life contains such often-unrecognized potential to affect the world that the great days for which we, in our dissatisfaction, so often yearn are already with us; all great days and thrilling possibilities are combined always in this momentous day . . .
Brighten the corner where you are, and you will light the world.
-Dean Koontz, From the Corner of His Eye. (New York: Bantam Books, 2000), pp. 476-477.
VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS
-bumper sticker
"This wallpaper is dreadful. One of us has simply got to go."
-Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), writer & playwright
Spoken while on his deathbed
I believe in Jesus Christ and in the beauty of the gospel that began in Bethlehem. I believe in Him whose spirit glorified a little town; of whose coming only shepherds saw the sign, and for whom the crowded inn could find no room. I believe in Him whom the kings of the earth ignored and the proud could never understand; whose paths were among the common people, whose welcome came from men of hungry hearts. I believe in Him who proclaimed the love of God to be invincible: whose cradle was a mother's arms, whose home in Nazareth had love for its only wealth, who looked at men and made them see what His love saw in them; who by His love brought sinners back to purity, and lifted human weakness up to meet the strength of God. I confess our everlasting need of God: the need of forgiveness for our greed and selfishness, the need of life for empty souls, the need of love for hearts grown cold. I acknowledge the glory of all that is like Christ: the steadfastness of friends, the blessedness of homes, the beauty of compassion, the miracle of hearts made kind at Christmas, the courage of those who dare to resist all passion, hate and war.
I believe that only by love expressed shall the earth at length be purified.
And I acknowledge in Christ a faith that sees beyond the partial fact, a trust in life redeemed that looks beyond our present evil. And I pray that this redemption may begin in us.
-Walter Russell Bowie, Lift Up Your Hearts
"More or less sad are finally all those who are aware of things beyond questions of daily bread but who would wish to live without this sadness, deep and still, without which there is no true joy."
-M. Keller
-Me (and then I realized how incredibly silly that sounded) :)
"Nothing's clean, baby, but we do the best we can, don't we?"
-Ava Gardner to Howard Hughes in "The Aviator"
"But it ain't our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no, we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set our course by that--what it's right to do."
-Anne's House of Dreams by Lucy Maud Montgomery
"The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than the courage of a final moment; but it is no less a magnificent mixture of triumph and tragedy."
-JFK
This is the truth, not just a poem.
This is a poem and not just the truth.
-Linda Hogan (Chickasaw)
I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now, I don't know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of
my children.
You are not my blood anymore.
I give you back to the white soldiers
who burned down my home, beheaded my children,
raped and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.
I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.
I release you
I release you
I release you
I release you
I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved,
to be loved, to be loved, fear.
Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.
I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't take you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart
But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid
of dying.
-Joy Harjo (Muskogee)
Fear is a liar, poisoning today
with fantasies of what
may come tomorrow
Until each joy is shadowed
by a sorrow
And, dreading it, we leak our
lives away.
If we have mate and child
we fear to part.
And if we long, we fear we
won't attain
And, snatching at it - even as
we gain - forfeit the heaven,
the harmony, the heart.
Fear is a liar.
Truth is what God molds our
days in love
And with the same precision
as he makes a wing for
flight or petal fold within
a sheath, or shapes an eye
for vision
He hands us strength to welcome
what is right.
Then, swift and sudden, hurls us
our delight.
-Anonymous
Not one day in anyone’s life . . . is an uneventful day, no day without profound meaning, no matter how dull and boring it might seem, no matter whether you are a seamstress or a queen, a shoeshine boy or a movie star, a renowned philosopher or a Down’s syndrome child. Because in every day of your life, there are opportunities to perform little kindnesses for others, both by conscious acts of will and unconscious example. Each smallest act of kindness – even just words of hope when they are needed, the remembrance of a birthday, a compliment that engenders a smile – reverberates across great distances and spans of time, affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo, because kindness is passed on and grows each time it’s passed, until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and far away. Likewise, each small meanness, each thoughtless expression of hatred, each envious and bitter act, regardless of how petty, can inspire others, and is therefore the seed that ultimately produces evil fruit, poisoning people whom you have never met and never will. All human lives are so profoundly and intricately entwined – those dead, those living, those generations yet to come – that the fate of all is the fate of each, and the hope of humanity rests in every heart and in every pair of hands. Therefore, after every failure, we are obliged to strive again for success, and when faced with the end of one thing, we must build something new and better in the ashes, just as from pain and grief, we must weave hope, for each of us is a thread critical to the strength – to the very survival -- of the human tapestry. Every hour in every life contains such often-unrecognized potential to affect the world that the great days for which we, in our dissatisfaction, so often yearn are already with us; all great days and thrilling possibilities are combined always in this momentous day . . .
Brighten the corner where you are, and you will light the world.
-Dean Koontz, From the Corner of His Eye. (New York: Bantam Books, 2000), pp. 476-477.
VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS
-bumper sticker
"This wallpaper is dreadful. One of us has simply got to go."
-Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), writer & playwright
Spoken while on his deathbed
I believe in Jesus Christ and in the beauty of the gospel that began in Bethlehem. I believe in Him whose spirit glorified a little town; of whose coming only shepherds saw the sign, and for whom the crowded inn could find no room. I believe in Him whom the kings of the earth ignored and the proud could never understand; whose paths were among the common people, whose welcome came from men of hungry hearts. I believe in Him who proclaimed the love of God to be invincible: whose cradle was a mother's arms, whose home in Nazareth had love for its only wealth, who looked at men and made them see what His love saw in them; who by His love brought sinners back to purity, and lifted human weakness up to meet the strength of God. I confess our everlasting need of God: the need of forgiveness for our greed and selfishness, the need of life for empty souls, the need of love for hearts grown cold. I acknowledge the glory of all that is like Christ: the steadfastness of friends, the blessedness of homes, the beauty of compassion, the miracle of hearts made kind at Christmas, the courage of those who dare to resist all passion, hate and war.
I believe that only by love expressed shall the earth at length be purified.
And I acknowledge in Christ a faith that sees beyond the partial fact, a trust in life redeemed that looks beyond our present evil. And I pray that this redemption may begin in us.
-Walter Russell Bowie, Lift Up Your Hearts
"More or less sad are finally all those who are aware of things beyond questions of daily bread but who would wish to live without this sadness, deep and still, without which there is no true joy."
-M. Keller
Resolutions for January
So I've decided to add new healthy habits month by month so I can focus on just a few things at a time. This will be easier than trying to revamp my entire life and then crashing and giving up by the second week of January.
My resolutions for January are... (drum roll please)
1. To floss every day even if I don't feel like it! (If I thought anyone was actually reading this, I probably wouldn't divulge such a thing.)
2. To read the Bible every day.
3. To not eat sugar except on special occasions.
4. To keep my sink shiny (yes, this is a Flylady thing).
I'm always happier when I'm on a self-improvement plan, and I have hope that these new habits will become, well, habits.
I know we can all have a fresh start at any time, but there's just something about the New Year... It's a collective reminder of the passing of time and of the fresh opportunities that come with each new moment of each new year. I turn 30 this year, and I'm determined to make my third decade my happiest, healthiest and most mature and "together" yet -- despite the challenges and the suffering of the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." God willing.
My resolutions for January are... (drum roll please)
1. To floss every day even if I don't feel like it! (If I thought anyone was actually reading this, I probably wouldn't divulge such a thing.)
2. To read the Bible every day.
3. To not eat sugar except on special occasions.
4. To keep my sink shiny (yes, this is a Flylady thing).
I'm always happier when I'm on a self-improvement plan, and I have hope that these new habits will become, well, habits.
I know we can all have a fresh start at any time, but there's just something about the New Year... It's a collective reminder of the passing of time and of the fresh opportunities that come with each new moment of each new year. I turn 30 this year, and I'm determined to make my third decade my happiest, healthiest and most mature and "together" yet -- despite the challenges and the suffering of the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." God willing.
Finally Blogging...
Well, Bon, this one's for you (and all my Facebook friends who would probably prefer I keep my "About Me" section short and sweet). I'm glad you suggested it. Here's to happy future blogging!
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