I am a white South African living in the U.S. and I was born during Apartheid. Growing up in the U.S. during the the 1980's, when it became common practice for the average American to protest the domestic policies of other nations, was a very difficult reality of my childhood. The anger began welling up in me at a very young age when I was first slapped in the face with blind ignorance at the hands of a schoolmate who called me a "bleached bushmman."
Now I am a woman with a zealous interest, even a passion for my homeland. The province of my birth was called Natal at that time, it is now called Kwa Zulu. These types of name changes are evident everywhere--just check out the Johannesburg International Airport for example. The need to change these Dutch and English names to African ones is important in that people have a desire to move beyond the past and embrace names that remind us of the great achievements against hate and seperation. At the same time, the decision to change these names is a grevious stripping of the history of my people. Whites are told to stand by and watch as our monuments are torn down and our forefather's achievements burned from the pages of history books in the name of affirmative action. We are being disrobed of our postion as a People. Finding work in South Africa has become so difficult for whites, and fear of racially motivated crime cripples all from living freely.
Sound familiar?
When my uncle first started teaching me about South Africa, he told me something that I've never forgotten, "Apartheid's fatal mistake was in its becoming official." Apartheid is a Afrikans word that means "separateness." Separation is a natural human response when cultures mix, but official separation is unnatural and stops progress when it is right. My fear for my home country is that the same mistake is being made again. It won't be called Apartheid, but in time, it could have a Xosa word with a very similar meaning.
The result of this tug-of-war is a humanitarian crisis the likes of which none of us have ever witnessed in our lifetimes. The facts in the video above are very real. The ethical debates, the bitterness and fighting over a place so beautiful are nothing in the light of the tear-stained faces of hundreds of thousands of new orphans or the pain of a person suffering, unmedicated, from the ravaging affects of HIV/AIDs. Politics, and ideologies aside, our purpose is to try to ease the suffering of others. It's no coincidence that those that suffer, do so in a land riddled with corruption, crime, poverty and one being propelled violently by revolution.
South Africa is truly in need. Does anyone else ever feel so helpless that it hurts?
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
South Africa: The Facts
Monday, October 15, 2007
A New Look
As you can see, I've employed a new look here. It's the same blog with a new image and a bit of dropped dead weight--nothing much though. Anyway, I hope your eyes don't protest against my strange color combinations here. Enjoy and I'll talk to you soon!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Oh No You Did NOT!
On occasion I like to come to Panera for a bit of relaxing coffee/tea drinking and internet surfing. It’s pretty much the only time I can browse a few sites or get something done without a 3 foot red-head pulling on my pant leg.
I have a favorite little nook here at the Panera on N.W. Expressway. I’m relatively tucked away in this seat, but I have a good view of the door and can hear a lot of what people say. Perfect for my nosey ways. Well, I can hear a lot, but apparently I’m also something of a captive audience too. Last April, I was just talking to my mom about travel plans since I was browsing for flights. A woman who had clearly just wrapped up some kind of meeting kept looking over at me and finally made her way over to me, forcing me to remove my headphones in order to hear her. She was apparently involved in some sort of direct marketing travel business, an independently marketed business if you know what I mean. Yes. It was like Arbonne, but for travel. Crap! So I was dumb and gave her my real phone number. I’ve now learned my lesson. She called me so many times, literally nagging me to get involved with her junk business that I actually saved her number under the title “travel hag” just so I’d know when to ignore the call. Finally, I guess she gave up.
Today, it happened again! This is why there are no soliciting signs guys… read!! I’m sitting here once again enjoying a very limited amount of time to myself, not bothering ANYONE when a woman in group of three people in front of me who are also clearly having a meeting starts paying too much attention to me. Today the lead-in was my laptop skin—a burnt orange homage to the University of Texas of course (thanks Jason). So this lady chats with me for a moment about OU versus Texas and I’m happy to indulge her in a bit of mindless chit chat… until she stands up to introduce herself. I'm thinking, either you are lesbionically attracted to me which is unlikely considering I look awful today, or you are trying to sell me something. Oh no! I know where this is going and you can just sit back done missy. Honestly, I’d rather you hit on me than pull your crap to get me hooked into your lame scheme. But as her partner fetches me some information on this health drink thing they’re pedaling, she gives me her best knowing look and says, “I feel like there is something going on with your health and you should know about this product. I don’t know if it’s god or what…” I didn’t capitalize God there because clearly her god communicates through bizarre health related psychic messages sent through extremely unhealthy looking strangers!
You know, if she hadn’t just been having this meeting not three feet in front of me where I could hear every word, she might have shaken me up a bit. What bull! This makes me so mad I’m actually having a hard time not letting her read this exact blog post! Why do all these scams attatch God to their marketing strategies? Is it just good business to have the Almighty endorse your product and/or services?
I am involved in a direct marketing business myself. Only one business and it is the first and only one we’ve ever become involved with. Oh, you didn’t know that? Well, that’s because I’m not going to tell you about until I’m convinced it’s in your best interest. I can promise you that.
Oh, I hate being manipulated like this. Now, I'm going to have to make an appointment with my doctor for a physical because I'm paranoid. Stupid woman! :)
I have a favorite little nook here at the Panera on N.W. Expressway. I’m relatively tucked away in this seat, but I have a good view of the door and can hear a lot of what people say. Perfect for my nosey ways. Well, I can hear a lot, but apparently I’m also something of a captive audience too. Last April, I was just talking to my mom about travel plans since I was browsing for flights. A woman who had clearly just wrapped up some kind of meeting kept looking over at me and finally made her way over to me, forcing me to remove my headphones in order to hear her. She was apparently involved in some sort of direct marketing travel business, an independently marketed business if you know what I mean. Yes. It was like Arbonne, but for travel. Crap! So I was dumb and gave her my real phone number. I’ve now learned my lesson. She called me so many times, literally nagging me to get involved with her junk business that I actually saved her number under the title “travel hag” just so I’d know when to ignore the call. Finally, I guess she gave up.
Today, it happened again! This is why there are no soliciting signs guys… read!! I’m sitting here once again enjoying a very limited amount of time to myself, not bothering ANYONE when a woman in group of three people in front of me who are also clearly having a meeting starts paying too much attention to me. Today the lead-in was my laptop skin—a burnt orange homage to the University of Texas of course (thanks Jason). So this lady chats with me for a moment about OU versus Texas and I’m happy to indulge her in a bit of mindless chit chat… until she stands up to introduce herself. I'm thinking, either you are lesbionically attracted to me which is unlikely considering I look awful today, or you are trying to sell me something. Oh no! I know where this is going and you can just sit back done missy. Honestly, I’d rather you hit on me than pull your crap to get me hooked into your lame scheme. But as her partner fetches me some information on this health drink thing they’re pedaling, she gives me her best knowing look and says, “I feel like there is something going on with your health and you should know about this product. I don’t know if it’s god or what…” I didn’t capitalize God there because clearly her god communicates through bizarre health related psychic messages sent through extremely unhealthy looking strangers!
You know, if she hadn’t just been having this meeting not three feet in front of me where I could hear every word, she might have shaken me up a bit. What bull! This makes me so mad I’m actually having a hard time not letting her read this exact blog post! Why do all these scams attatch God to their marketing strategies? Is it just good business to have the Almighty endorse your product and/or services?
I am involved in a direct marketing business myself. Only one business and it is the first and only one we’ve ever become involved with. Oh, you didn’t know that? Well, that’s because I’m not going to tell you about until I’m convinced it’s in your best interest. I can promise you that.
Oh, I hate being manipulated like this. Now, I'm going to have to make an appointment with my doctor for a physical because I'm paranoid. Stupid woman! :)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Taking Tea
Originally written on a rainy day a few months ago.
--------------------------------
Another day of rain inundated her car windows as she drove toward her favorite coffee haunt with determination. Upon arrival, the place was busy and once again, out of nearly everything. Instead of going someplace else or becoming irritable like the last time this happened, she opted for less flash and more satisfaction in the form of her old, nearly abandoned favorite of steaming hot Earl Grey tea.
“Even this simple, do it yourself beverage is overpriced here,” she mutters to herself as she succumbs to a to-go cup instead of the thick white mug she was looking forward to holding in the palm of her hands. They were out of those too.
“Hot tea!” yells the girl from behind the counter. Hot tea? This was a large cup of steaming water. She picked two tea bags from the Earl Grey jar since this was an exceptionally large cup of near boiling water. She headed to the fix-it counter and collected her sweetening agents. She sat down at her table inserted her tea bags, stirred and replaced the lid in order to let it steep properly. She looked out at the rain strewn window as her computer booted up and realized that this accidental cup of tea was a much needed retreat from her constant emersion in noise, sights and fast, explosive flavors.
As she watched the steam slink up the sides of her cup and whisper upwards into oblivion, she was launched into a memory about thirteen years prior. Her first cup of Earl Grey tea was in London at a simple lunch counter. That had been a real lesson in tea! After ordering Twinnings Earl Grey because a character on a beloved television show always drank it, she was surprised to be presented with a tiny metal teapot with scorching hot water in it, a tea strainer full of Earl Grey leaves, a selection of sugar, saccharine, honey, lemon and milk as well as a tea cup complete with saucer and spoon. She tried a cup with nearly every choice and decided she preferred hers with honey and nothing else.
She smiled at the fact that her preference hadn’t changed in all these years, while blowing the steam off the top of her current to-go cup full of aromatic memories. She pulled the cup closer and heat floated to her face bringing with it the uniquely citrus scent of Earl Grey leaves. She pulled out the tea bags and used the spoon to squeeze them tightly against the side of the cup, extracting every last bit of essence from it before setting it aside. Next she added the honey—the best part. She stirred it slowly allowing the cold honey to merge fully with the steaming tea. Finally, all one must do is let it cool enough to take a sip without burning your tongue beyond usefulness.
The first sip is the test. You examine its burnt amber color and wonder, is it cool enough now? Is it sweet enough? Is this brand too acidic, or more lemon than orange? When it is right, it is comfort, relaxation and warmth in fluid form. You open your eyes a little less fully and you look beyond a thing and see only its color and movement. It is only a few moments stolen from the day, but the right sensory experience can clarify the mind and foster creativity. Taking tea is indeed a necessary luxury.
--------------------------------
Another day of rain inundated her car windows as she drove toward her favorite coffee haunt with determination. Upon arrival, the place was busy and once again, out of nearly everything. Instead of going someplace else or becoming irritable like the last time this happened, she opted for less flash and more satisfaction in the form of her old, nearly abandoned favorite of steaming hot Earl Grey tea.
“Even this simple, do it yourself beverage is overpriced here,” she mutters to herself as she succumbs to a to-go cup instead of the thick white mug she was looking forward to holding in the palm of her hands. They were out of those too.
“Hot tea!” yells the girl from behind the counter. Hot tea? This was a large cup of steaming water. She picked two tea bags from the Earl Grey jar since this was an exceptionally large cup of near boiling water. She headed to the fix-it counter and collected her sweetening agents. She sat down at her table inserted her tea bags, stirred and replaced the lid in order to let it steep properly. She looked out at the rain strewn window as her computer booted up and realized that this accidental cup of tea was a much needed retreat from her constant emersion in noise, sights and fast, explosive flavors.
As she watched the steam slink up the sides of her cup and whisper upwards into oblivion, she was launched into a memory about thirteen years prior. Her first cup of Earl Grey tea was in London at a simple lunch counter. That had been a real lesson in tea! After ordering Twinnings Earl Grey because a character on a beloved television show always drank it, she was surprised to be presented with a tiny metal teapot with scorching hot water in it, a tea strainer full of Earl Grey leaves, a selection of sugar, saccharine, honey, lemon and milk as well as a tea cup complete with saucer and spoon. She tried a cup with nearly every choice and decided she preferred hers with honey and nothing else.
She smiled at the fact that her preference hadn’t changed in all these years, while blowing the steam off the top of her current to-go cup full of aromatic memories. She pulled the cup closer and heat floated to her face bringing with it the uniquely citrus scent of Earl Grey leaves. She pulled out the tea bags and used the spoon to squeeze them tightly against the side of the cup, extracting every last bit of essence from it before setting it aside. Next she added the honey—the best part. She stirred it slowly allowing the cold honey to merge fully with the steaming tea. Finally, all one must do is let it cool enough to take a sip without burning your tongue beyond usefulness.
The first sip is the test. You examine its burnt amber color and wonder, is it cool enough now? Is it sweet enough? Is this brand too acidic, or more lemon than orange? When it is right, it is comfort, relaxation and warmth in fluid form. You open your eyes a little less fully and you look beyond a thing and see only its color and movement. It is only a few moments stolen from the day, but the right sensory experience can clarify the mind and foster creativity. Taking tea is indeed a necessary luxury.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Your Firsts
1. Who was your first prom date?
It was Christmas Banquet, but his name was George.
2. Who was your first roommate?
Melessia Camille, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you spell her name. Freshman year, Hatley Hall.
3. What was your first alcoholic drink?
A white Russian.
4. What was your first job?
A hostess at China Coast. “Ni hao, and welcome to China Coast! Smoking or Non?”
5. What was your first car?
’80 Honda Accord. I called it Rusty.
6. Who was the first person you texted today?
No one yet.
7. Who is the first person you thought of this morning?
Jason since he was saying goodbye to me. Then Jager.
8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Ms. McIntyre. I’m pretty sure she was psychotic, and would be fired if she did that stuff today.
9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
To the U.S., Oklahoma specifically
10. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who were you with?
I never really snuck out. If I had, I’m sure I would have been with Christina though.
11. Who was your first best friend and are you still friends with them?
A girl named Miriam Merbaba (sp?). I don’t know her anymore.
12. Where was your first sleep over?
My house most likely and probably around 2nd grade.
13. Who was your first?
boyfriend? Jason Luper.
14. Whose wedding were you in the first time?
Charmaine’s, one of my sisters
15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
check the time
16. What was the first concert you ever went to?
Probably Carmen or something, although, I vaguely remember some kind of outdoor show… but I don’t know more than that.
17. First tattoo or piercing?
ears, I think I was about 11. Tattoo, I was 17.
18. First foreign country you went to?
The U.S.
19. First crush?
His name was Adam and I tried to kiss him on the round rug at preschool. :)
20. When was your first detention?
I can hardly narrow it down. Probably 8th grade.
21. What was the first state you lived in?
A province, not a state and it is called Natal/Kwa Zulu.
22. Who was the first person to break your heart?
A boy named Jason (not my first BF, or my husband… I just have a thing for Jasons).
23. Who will be the first to repost?
Like I know!
It was Christmas Banquet, but his name was George.
2. Who was your first roommate?
Melessia Camille, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you spell her name. Freshman year, Hatley Hall.
3. What was your first alcoholic drink?
A white Russian.
4. What was your first job?
A hostess at China Coast. “Ni hao, and welcome to China Coast! Smoking or Non?”
5. What was your first car?
’80 Honda Accord. I called it Rusty.
6. Who was the first person you texted today?
No one yet.
7. Who is the first person you thought of this morning?
Jason since he was saying goodbye to me. Then Jager.
8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Ms. McIntyre. I’m pretty sure she was psychotic, and would be fired if she did that stuff today.
9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
To the U.S., Oklahoma specifically
10. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who were you with?
I never really snuck out. If I had, I’m sure I would have been with Christina though.
11. Who was your first best friend and are you still friends with them?
A girl named Miriam Merbaba (sp?). I don’t know her anymore.
12. Where was your first sleep over?
My house most likely and probably around 2nd grade.
13. Who was your first?
boyfriend? Jason Luper.
14. Whose wedding were you in the first time?
Charmaine’s, one of my sisters
15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
check the time
16. What was the first concert you ever went to?
Probably Carmen or something, although, I vaguely remember some kind of outdoor show… but I don’t know more than that.
17. First tattoo or piercing?
ears, I think I was about 11. Tattoo, I was 17.
18. First foreign country you went to?
The U.S.
19. First crush?
His name was Adam and I tried to kiss him on the round rug at preschool. :)
20. When was your first detention?
I can hardly narrow it down. Probably 8th grade.
21. What was the first state you lived in?
A province, not a state and it is called Natal/Kwa Zulu.
22. Who was the first person to break your heart?
A boy named Jason (not my first BF, or my husband… I just have a thing for Jasons).
23. Who will be the first to repost?
Like I know!
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Songs That Always Make Me Cry
Jacob’s Dream – Alison Kraus and Union Station
No song in the English language manages to cut to the heart of a mother quite as succinctly as this one. The song is an extremely sad gothic sounding folk tune about two boys who wonder into the mountains to find their dad. Instead, they get terribly lost in the freezing temperatures and the whole town is filled with dread as they search for the lost boys for days.
The chorus reads,
“Oh mommy and daddy why can't you hear our cries
The day is almost over, soon it will be night
We're so cold and hungry and our feet are tired and sore
We promise not to stray again from our cabin door.”
Even typing those words brings tears to my eyes. No mother can handle the image of her child suffering in the cold, hungry and scared and to ask the mother why she can’t find him or hear him is even worse. You know time is of the essence yet you are utterly helpless to even comfort the person you love most in the world. Death is a better fate for a mom in that situation.
The song goes on to tell about an old, sickly man in the village who dreams of a location in the mountain where he dreams that he sees the two boys huddled near a tree by a swollen stream. He dreams this for many nights before his wife finally persuades him to tell someone about it. When he does, the men recognize that location and head there immediately. When they arrive, they find the boys frozen to death in the exact position described in Jacob’s dream. AWFUL!!! All I can think of at the end of that song is “JACOB IS AN EFFING MORON!! He waited for three days???!!”
As the song says, “For two more nights the dream returned this vision sent from God,” for what purpose? To torture their poor parents at the fact that they might have been saved!?
The song ends, with a reinvention of the crushing chorus, remade to make us feel a sense of peace as this awful story comes to a close.
“Oh mommy and daddy, look past the tears you cry
We're both up in Heaven now, God is by our side
As you lay us down to rest in the presence of the Lord
Know that we will meet you here at Heaven's door.”
Oh, Alison. I know you love to sing sad songs, but this is just too much for my heart.
To hear a sample (track 3):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=011661055520&itm=1
------------------------------------------------
When God Ran – by Phillips Craig and Dean
I suppose I am especially moved by the idea of the prodigal and equally so by the love of a parent for a child. They are intertwined. This song was originally written as a unique perspective on the parable of the Prodigal Son. This song details the part of the story when the son comes home to his Father’s house and plans to beg for a place in the home as a servant, knowing that he no longer had the rights of a son. Instead of the reception he expected, he is greeted by his Father who not only happy to see him, but openly running at full speed toward him—a social faux pas in that day. The Father’s love was so great that the forgiveness was given before it was requested and the wrongdoer was reinstated to his previous position of privileged by the man he had most wronged… all because of unselfish love.
The P.C. & D. version of this song is kind of lame—lots of synthesizer and echo effects added to the vocals to add intensity. The song elicits enough awe all on its own, so the original recording falls victim to typical 80’s indulgence (although it has been redone). Last week at church, a few guys from our music department got together and performed this song during the service. Of course, the pastor had been talking about the story of the Prodigal Son and even referenced a painting by Rembrandt of the same name. Before the service began I was in the choir room and heard the guys practicing this song and in a flash I was transported to my parent’s living room, watching my sister, Melanie practicing the exact same song (unfortunately, the Phillips Craig and Dean version). She sang that song in church and all over the place so many times that I actually knew the words to it. She loved it. I can’t believe I forgot this song! I especially couldn’t believe how it didn’t come to me while planning her funeral or during the many many hours I’ve spent since her death coming to a startling realization about God’s love in her life. This was her song and she had always known it! This is how her story ended too and in an even more perfect way. The shock of realizing my sister knew how her own story had to end caused me to weep openly as they sang this song last Sunday.
I’m sure everyone around me was thinking, “Poor prodigal girl… perhaps she shouldn’t be leading music if she’s gone astray.” :) That thought alone made me laugh enough to stop crying.
To hear a bit of it (track 14): http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=094638191025&itm=1
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Bring Him Home– “Jean Valjean” from Les Miserables
from the album, Les Miserables - The Musical That Swept the World (10th Anniversary Concert at the Royal Albert Hall)
This song makes me cry, but it doesn’t make me emotional. Instead it pushes and inspires me. What makes it so powerful? It could be that you get the sense that Valjean is crying as he sings this desperate song about a boy he loves like son. It could be the way it builds in intensity without the singer ever straying from his original pleading tone. While the subject is moving and the delivery, poignant, it is the song as a whole entity that makes me weep. I cry for the overwhelming aesthetic perfection of this particular version of “Bring Him Home.” In fact, to say that this song overwhelms me is a bit of an understatement. I usually begin with goose bumps and progress into a minor case of the shakes. By the chorus, when Jean Valjean begs, “Bring Him Home” to God, there are hot tears streaming down my face. I look like a right fool, but I feel privileged to be able to be moved by beauty in this way. It is too easy to breeze past art and not be affected by it. This song shows me that I am still sensitive to the awe inspiring sensations of good art performed with a sense of obsession.
To hear a tiny version that doesn’t do it justice (disc 2, track 10—not track 11):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=766927332623&itm=1
-------------------------------------------------
I Can Only Imagine - MercyMe
I realize how totally cliché it is for me to list this song among those whose lyrics, memories and shear artistry move me to tears. This song was built to get to you—that is its purpose. I hate that I am subject to its carefully orchestrated emotion seeking lyrics. Gag!
With that said, this song makes me feel peace about the deaths of those I have loved and I am overwhelmed by the truth of its words. For someone who truly loves their creator, this song is a great love song sung by the prodigal lover to the faithful lover. These are the kind of words any parent would die to hear come their children’s lips—it is love finally requited. It’s the opening gasp of desperately happy cry, of relief, of pure unerring and perfect joy. The song paints a picture of someone finally getting God’s love and showing it by immediately throwing off their restraints and running toward that eternal unknowable obsession—the love of a master for his creation, of a parent for his child, for a lover for the object of his passion.
My uncle always gave some version of the same Easter sermon except once—the Easter before he died four years ago. It was the most unusual Easter sermon most in that audience had ever heard, so much so, that the District Superintendent, who was there that day, ordered a copy of it on C.D. Three months after giving that sermon, my uncle (whom I admired and loved) died suddenly in South Africa after spending a week comforting his cousin who had just lost his own son. At my uncle’s funeral, that D.S. spoke in hushed tones about the sermon my uncle gave at Easter. His awe was palpable as he began playing the last five minutes of it for everyone there. Without warning, the sanctuary was suddenly filled with the sound of my uncle’s voice saying these words…
“I can only imagine what it will be like when I walk by your side. I can only imagine what my eyes will see when your face is before me. I can only imagine, surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel. Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still? Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall? Will I sing hallelujah; will I be able to speak at all? I can only imagine.
I can only imagine when that day comes and I find myself standing in the Son.
I can only imagine when all I will do is forever, forever worship You. I can only imagine.”
To hear although, I’m sure everyone already has (track 5):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=080688613327&itm=7
--------------------------------------------------
Be Thou My Vision – Celtic Call, a local duo, or any other version done in the Celtic tradition
If I focus on this song, I will tear up for every reason mentioned previously, not just one of them. I immediately fill with joy and expectation as is only fitting considering this is our love song. I walked down a grassy aisle toward to my future husband to a live version of this very song by Celtic Call. The husband and wife duo that performed this at our wedding consists of a harpist (the wife) and a bagpipe, fiddle or any other kind of pipe player (the kilted husband). The harp opened the song and played for several minutes as the anticipation mounted for me to enter that garden. Just when I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest and my breath would stop all together, the piper said, “It’s time,” and began playing those first few shocking notes of his segment of the song on his bagpipes. I walked, clinging to my dad for dear life, just steps behind the man “piping me in.” The bagpipes are an extremely powerful and emotional instrument. That was the only time they were played at the wedding. I wasn’t paying attention to the crowd at the time, but when I watched the video later, the look on the faces of that congregation as those pipes began was never to be forgotten. They looked almost as awestruck as I felt. Yeah pipes, you did your job well!
The lyrics of this song are so beautifully written. The rhyme and meter is elegant and the words themselves betray such unerring devotion and admiration that it transforms this simple Celtic melody into something quite innocently powerful.
To hear a different version (track 4):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=083616392929&itm=7
----------------------------------------
What songs move you?
No song in the English language manages to cut to the heart of a mother quite as succinctly as this one. The song is an extremely sad gothic sounding folk tune about two boys who wonder into the mountains to find their dad. Instead, they get terribly lost in the freezing temperatures and the whole town is filled with dread as they search for the lost boys for days.
The chorus reads,
“Oh mommy and daddy why can't you hear our cries
The day is almost over, soon it will be night
We're so cold and hungry and our feet are tired and sore
We promise not to stray again from our cabin door.”
Even typing those words brings tears to my eyes. No mother can handle the image of her child suffering in the cold, hungry and scared and to ask the mother why she can’t find him or hear him is even worse. You know time is of the essence yet you are utterly helpless to even comfort the person you love most in the world. Death is a better fate for a mom in that situation.
The song goes on to tell about an old, sickly man in the village who dreams of a location in the mountain where he dreams that he sees the two boys huddled near a tree by a swollen stream. He dreams this for many nights before his wife finally persuades him to tell someone about it. When he does, the men recognize that location and head there immediately. When they arrive, they find the boys frozen to death in the exact position described in Jacob’s dream. AWFUL!!! All I can think of at the end of that song is “JACOB IS AN EFFING MORON!! He waited for three days???!!”
As the song says, “For two more nights the dream returned this vision sent from God,” for what purpose? To torture their poor parents at the fact that they might have been saved!?
The song ends, with a reinvention of the crushing chorus, remade to make us feel a sense of peace as this awful story comes to a close.
“Oh mommy and daddy, look past the tears you cry
We're both up in Heaven now, God is by our side
As you lay us down to rest in the presence of the Lord
Know that we will meet you here at Heaven's door.”
Oh, Alison. I know you love to sing sad songs, but this is just too much for my heart.
To hear a sample (track 3):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=011661055520&itm=1
------------------------------------------------
When God Ran – by Phillips Craig and Dean
I suppose I am especially moved by the idea of the prodigal and equally so by the love of a parent for a child. They are intertwined. This song was originally written as a unique perspective on the parable of the Prodigal Son. This song details the part of the story when the son comes home to his Father’s house and plans to beg for a place in the home as a servant, knowing that he no longer had the rights of a son. Instead of the reception he expected, he is greeted by his Father who not only happy to see him, but openly running at full speed toward him—a social faux pas in that day. The Father’s love was so great that the forgiveness was given before it was requested and the wrongdoer was reinstated to his previous position of privileged by the man he had most wronged… all because of unselfish love.
The P.C. & D. version of this song is kind of lame—lots of synthesizer and echo effects added to the vocals to add intensity. The song elicits enough awe all on its own, so the original recording falls victim to typical 80’s indulgence (although it has been redone). Last week at church, a few guys from our music department got together and performed this song during the service. Of course, the pastor had been talking about the story of the Prodigal Son and even referenced a painting by Rembrandt of the same name. Before the service began I was in the choir room and heard the guys practicing this song and in a flash I was transported to my parent’s living room, watching my sister, Melanie practicing the exact same song (unfortunately, the Phillips Craig and Dean version). She sang that song in church and all over the place so many times that I actually knew the words to it. She loved it. I can’t believe I forgot this song! I especially couldn’t believe how it didn’t come to me while planning her funeral or during the many many hours I’ve spent since her death coming to a startling realization about God’s love in her life. This was her song and she had always known it! This is how her story ended too and in an even more perfect way. The shock of realizing my sister knew how her own story had to end caused me to weep openly as they sang this song last Sunday.
Almighty God, the great I am
Immovable rock, omnipotent, powerful, awesome Lord
Victorious warrior, commanding King of Kings
Mighty conqueror, and the only time
the only time I ever saw Him run
Was when He ran to me, He took me in His arms
Held my head to His chest, said “My son’s come home again”
Lifted my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice He said,
“Son do you know I still love you?”
He caught me by surprise when God ran
The day I left home I knew I’d broken His heart
And I wondered then if things could ever be the same
Then one night I remembered His love for me
And down that dusty road ahead I could see
It was the only time – it was the only time I ever saw Him run
And then He ran to me, He took me in His arms
Held my head to His chest, said “My son’s come home again”
Lifted my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice He said,
“Son do you know I still love you?”
He caught me by surprise as He brought me to my knees
When God ran – I saw Him run to me
I was so ashamed, all alone and so far away
But now I know He’s been waiting for this day
I saw Him run to me, He took me in His arms
Held my head to His chest, said “My son’s come home again”
Lifted my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice I felt His love for me again
He ran to me, He took me in His arms
Held my head to His chest, said “My son’s come home again”
Lifted my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice He said, “Son”, He called me Son
He said, “Son do you know I still love you?”
He ran to me and then I ran to Him
When God ran
I’m sure everyone around me was thinking, “Poor prodigal girl… perhaps she shouldn’t be leading music if she’s gone astray.” :) That thought alone made me laugh enough to stop crying.
To hear a bit of it (track 14): http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=094638191025&itm=1
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Bring Him Home– “Jean Valjean” from Les Miserables
from the album, Les Miserables - The Musical That Swept the World (10th Anniversary Concert at the Royal Albert Hall)
This song makes me cry, but it doesn’t make me emotional. Instead it pushes and inspires me. What makes it so powerful? It could be that you get the sense that Valjean is crying as he sings this desperate song about a boy he loves like son. It could be the way it builds in intensity without the singer ever straying from his original pleading tone. While the subject is moving and the delivery, poignant, it is the song as a whole entity that makes me weep. I cry for the overwhelming aesthetic perfection of this particular version of “Bring Him Home.” In fact, to say that this song overwhelms me is a bit of an understatement. I usually begin with goose bumps and progress into a minor case of the shakes. By the chorus, when Jean Valjean begs, “Bring Him Home” to God, there are hot tears streaming down my face. I look like a right fool, but I feel privileged to be able to be moved by beauty in this way. It is too easy to breeze past art and not be affected by it. This song shows me that I am still sensitive to the awe inspiring sensations of good art performed with a sense of obsession.
Bring Him Home
God on high
Hear my prayer
In my need
You have always been there
He is young
He's afraid
Let him rest
Heaven blessed.
Bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home.
He's like the son I might have known
If God had granted me a son.
The summers die
One by one
How soon they fly
On and on
And I am old
And will be gone.
Bring him peace
Bring him joy
He is young
He is only a boy.
You can take
You can give
Let him be
Let him live.
If I die, let me die
Let him live, bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home.
To hear a tiny version that doesn’t do it justice (disc 2, track 10—not track 11):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=766927332623&itm=1
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I Can Only Imagine - MercyMe
I realize how totally cliché it is for me to list this song among those whose lyrics, memories and shear artistry move me to tears. This song was built to get to you—that is its purpose. I hate that I am subject to its carefully orchestrated emotion seeking lyrics. Gag!
With that said, this song makes me feel peace about the deaths of those I have loved and I am overwhelmed by the truth of its words. For someone who truly loves their creator, this song is a great love song sung by the prodigal lover to the faithful lover. These are the kind of words any parent would die to hear come their children’s lips—it is love finally requited. It’s the opening gasp of desperately happy cry, of relief, of pure unerring and perfect joy. The song paints a picture of someone finally getting God’s love and showing it by immediately throwing off their restraints and running toward that eternal unknowable obsession—the love of a master for his creation, of a parent for his child, for a lover for the object of his passion.
My uncle always gave some version of the same Easter sermon except once—the Easter before he died four years ago. It was the most unusual Easter sermon most in that audience had ever heard, so much so, that the District Superintendent, who was there that day, ordered a copy of it on C.D. Three months after giving that sermon, my uncle (whom I admired and loved) died suddenly in South Africa after spending a week comforting his cousin who had just lost his own son. At my uncle’s funeral, that D.S. spoke in hushed tones about the sermon my uncle gave at Easter. His awe was palpable as he began playing the last five minutes of it for everyone there. Without warning, the sanctuary was suddenly filled with the sound of my uncle’s voice saying these words…
“I can only imagine what it will be like when I walk by your side. I can only imagine what my eyes will see when your face is before me. I can only imagine, surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel. Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still? Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall? Will I sing hallelujah; will I be able to speak at all? I can only imagine.
I can only imagine when that day comes and I find myself standing in the Son.
I can only imagine when all I will do is forever, forever worship You. I can only imagine.”
To hear although, I’m sure everyone already has (track 5):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=080688613327&itm=7
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Be Thou My Vision – Celtic Call, a local duo, or any other version done in the Celtic tradition
If I focus on this song, I will tear up for every reason mentioned previously, not just one of them. I immediately fill with joy and expectation as is only fitting considering this is our love song. I walked down a grassy aisle toward to my future husband to a live version of this very song by Celtic Call. The husband and wife duo that performed this at our wedding consists of a harpist (the wife) and a bagpipe, fiddle or any other kind of pipe player (the kilted husband). The harp opened the song and played for several minutes as the anticipation mounted for me to enter that garden. Just when I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest and my breath would stop all together, the piper said, “It’s time,” and began playing those first few shocking notes of his segment of the song on his bagpipes. I walked, clinging to my dad for dear life, just steps behind the man “piping me in.” The bagpipes are an extremely powerful and emotional instrument. That was the only time they were played at the wedding. I wasn’t paying attention to the crowd at the time, but when I watched the video later, the look on the faces of that congregation as those pipes began was never to be forgotten. They looked almost as awestruck as I felt. Yeah pipes, you did your job well!
The lyrics of this song are so beautifully written. The rhyme and meter is elegant and the words themselves betray such unerring devotion and admiration that it transforms this simple Celtic melody into something quite innocently powerful.
To hear a different version (track 4):
http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=083616392929&itm=7
----------------------------------------
What songs move you?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
THAT’S ENOUGH! : I Love My Red-Heads
Lately, I’ve been made aware of an unknown (to me) prejudice towards people with red hair, or as those who feel this hatred most acutely put it, “ginger hair.” I have read so many hateful things in my research on this subject! I am honestly embarrassed for these idiots. I’ve read everything from "fire" jibes to insinuations that red-headed children should be “put out of their misery.” Holy crap! Get the hell over it people! Seriously, do you not have anything better to do than make up inane reasons to dislike an entire group of people? Wow.
Personally, I am an unabashed lover of the Ginger. My Gran was a red-head. My first boyfriend (kind of) was a red head (strawberry blonde). One of my first ever best friends was a red-head as well as one of my current best friends. I married a red-head and to prove my unfaltering devotion, I then gave birth to a red-head. I am blond and always have been some version of blond—so my love for the Ginger is quite pure. This is one of those things I really just don’t understand.
Honestly, I had always believed that red-heads faced a sort of innocent, teasing type of persecution. It never crossed my mind that this particular brand of prejudice came in such sinister forms as physical abuse, disgusting remarks and incessant taunting. Now I am beginning to understand why my Gran hated being called Ginger or Red-head. She insisted on the word, “Titian” (say, tee-shun). Well, I have my Gran to thank for handing down her Ginger gene to me. Thanks to that gene, I am freckled and naturally fair skinned. Mostly, it enabled my son to look the rare and intriguing way that he does. I’ll have any of these haters know that in a group of children, he is ALWAYS singled out as the one to receive exuberant praise for being so adorable with his floppy curly Ginger hair.
Here is a brief example of this stupidity. The first definition is what I'm taking about but the last two sound like something I'd write. These are user submitted definitions.
1. Ginger
A human, characterized by pale skin, freckles and bright red hair. "Gingers" are generally considered to be inferior to their more melanin-rich brethren, and thus deservingly discriminated against. Gingers are thought to have no souls. The condition, "gingervitis" is genetic and incurable.
Ron Howard is a ginger.
Carrot Top is a good example of why gingers should be discriminated against.
3. Ginger
A ginger is, among other things, a person with red hair, freckles and pale skin. Some darker skinned or non-ginger haired persons feel compelled to denegrate gingers out of jealousy because a ginger's look is unique.
Men typically love ginger women.
4. Ginger
A ginger is a person with red hair.
All previous entries can only be explained by the extreme likelihood that they were written by mentally-handicapped and racist children, who walked in on their mothers having extra-marital intercourse with red-haired men. Recently, magazines such as tatler, vogue, and numerous newspapers have heralded this the age of 'the ginger' and have called it the new blonde. Such articles published a list of numerous celebrities who have dyed their hair red as part of the trend.
Damian Lewis, Nicole Kidman, Lindsay Lohan, Phillip Seymour-Hoffman are all what would be called a 'ginger'
This list does not include celebrities who have recently begun dying their hair red as part of the 'new-blonde' redhead resurgence.
From:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ginger
Personally, I am an unabashed lover of the Ginger. My Gran was a red-head. My first boyfriend (kind of) was a red head (strawberry blonde). One of my first ever best friends was a red-head as well as one of my current best friends. I married a red-head and to prove my unfaltering devotion, I then gave birth to a red-head. I am blond and always have been some version of blond—so my love for the Ginger is quite pure. This is one of those things I really just don’t understand.
Honestly, I had always believed that red-heads faced a sort of innocent, teasing type of persecution. It never crossed my mind that this particular brand of prejudice came in such sinister forms as physical abuse, disgusting remarks and incessant taunting. Now I am beginning to understand why my Gran hated being called Ginger or Red-head. She insisted on the word, “Titian” (say, tee-shun). Well, I have my Gran to thank for handing down her Ginger gene to me. Thanks to that gene, I am freckled and naturally fair skinned. Mostly, it enabled my son to look the rare and intriguing way that he does. I’ll have any of these haters know that in a group of children, he is ALWAYS singled out as the one to receive exuberant praise for being so adorable with his floppy curly Ginger hair.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Before and After: It Is Time part #2
After much debate about whether or not I, a mother, should get tattooed... again. I finally just decided to ignore the protests and just do whatever I wanted to do in the first place.
The next battle was with myself. I kept going back and forth between the basic concept of how I would modify my existing tattoo (my starting point) and how I would pay homage to my sister at the same time.
Finally, after consulting with Dave Bruehl, the tattooist I eventually chose, I decided to go back to my first and probably purest thought. He took my few requirements and drew exactly what I had envisioned in the beginning--a beautiful representation of my sister's tattoo encircled by the most organic looking tattooed wings I've ever seen. Since I wasn't too thrilled about the traditional halo concept for a memorial tattoo, we opted for a sunset colored crown of light eminating from the top of the winged flower.
Each element of this tattoo is highly significant for me and while it's just another (albeit lovely) tattoo on the ankel of a stranger to most people, it is a great summing up of a very difficult reality in my life.
This photo was taken the day after getting the tattoo so it actually looks a bit better now.
The elements and their meaning
Small blue flower: This is the only original tattoo I got with my sister and it was only redone to make the color fresh and the lines distinct again. The smallness represents me as the younger sister and blue was/is a representation of my personality.
Large red flower: This is a replica of Melanie's tattoo that we got together. It is just like mine in shape. The larger size indicates that she was the older sister and the red represents her passionate, tormented nature. This was on her back, near her right shoulder.
The wings: They seem obvious (she's dead and therefore, floating somewhere in the heavens, blah blah blah...), but more than just that they represent her newfound freedom. Melanie was an addict most of her life and I feel she is free for the first time now. Her wings are her release and are a natural part of her--also that is why they are not white or angelic looking.
The direction of her flight: She is flying away from me and this world. The direction is evident by the size of the far wing--it is smaller as it is further in the distance and leading the movement in the opposite direction.
Those are all the intentional elements. I'm sure you're thinking, "that's a lot to say about a pretty straight-forward looking tattoo," and you're probably right, but that's what makes it poignant for me instead of everyone else.
Getting the tattoo made me very nervous and I'm not sure why. I've had two before, so I knew what to expect. Mel will have to explain that to me one day.
I'm so glad I've done this for her. I only wish she could have seen it, but then it wouldn't have made any sense. :)
The next battle was with myself. I kept going back and forth between the basic concept of how I would modify my existing tattoo (my starting point) and how I would pay homage to my sister at the same time.
Finally, after consulting with Dave Bruehl, the tattooist I eventually chose, I decided to go back to my first and probably purest thought. He took my few requirements and drew exactly what I had envisioned in the beginning--a beautiful representation of my sister's tattoo encircled by the most organic looking tattooed wings I've ever seen. Since I wasn't too thrilled about the traditional halo concept for a memorial tattoo, we opted for a sunset colored crown of light eminating from the top of the winged flower.
Each element of this tattoo is highly significant for me and while it's just another (albeit lovely) tattoo on the ankel of a stranger to most people, it is a great summing up of a very difficult reality in my life.
This photo was taken the day after getting the tattoo so it actually looks a bit better now.
The elements and their meaning
Small blue flower: This is the only original tattoo I got with my sister and it was only redone to make the color fresh and the lines distinct again. The smallness represents me as the younger sister and blue was/is a representation of my personality.
Large red flower: This is a replica of Melanie's tattoo that we got together. It is just like mine in shape. The larger size indicates that she was the older sister and the red represents her passionate, tormented nature. This was on her back, near her right shoulder.
The wings: They seem obvious (she's dead and therefore, floating somewhere in the heavens, blah blah blah...), but more than just that they represent her newfound freedom. Melanie was an addict most of her life and I feel she is free for the first time now. Her wings are her release and are a natural part of her--also that is why they are not white or angelic looking.
The direction of her flight: She is flying away from me and this world. The direction is evident by the size of the far wing--it is smaller as it is further in the distance and leading the movement in the opposite direction.
Those are all the intentional elements. I'm sure you're thinking, "that's a lot to say about a pretty straight-forward looking tattoo," and you're probably right, but that's what makes it poignant for me instead of everyone else.
Getting the tattoo made me very nervous and I'm not sure why. I've had two before, so I knew what to expect. Mel will have to explain that to me one day.
I'm so glad I've done this for her. I only wish she could have seen it, but then it wouldn't have made any sense. :)
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
A Rough Patch
People say all kinds of things on the subject of marriage. Many comments and tidbits of advice are ridiculous, some are illogical and unlivable, but most are simply trite.
This coming August, we will have been married for six years. Six years! We are now closer to a decade of marriage than to our wedding day. There is no turning back now. After all that time, I’m beginning to realize that all my collected knowledge on marriage amounts to a hill of beans. I realize more and more that marriage is an enigma and to attempt to understand or simplify the institution into small chewable amounts of information is ludicrous.
A lot of married couples find it hard to admit when there are difficult times. I am generally one of those people myself, but lately I’ve found there is much more to be learned by sharing the difficult truths than by glossing over your everyday life and all the complex ingredients of which it consists. We aren’t a perfect couple and we aren’t guaranteed to make it to that invisible, unspoken finish line for which a marriage is meant to strive. The point is that there is no finish line—there is no goal as such. That’s what makes the decision to marry such an intimidating one. Nothing compares to the nebulous expectations and lifespan of a marriage. Even when you become a parent, there are little accomplishments along the way that you can expect. You can even conceivably expect to “finish” your job as a parent to some extent at the end of about 18 to 21 years (although most parents would argue that point). Marriage isn’t a task—It’s a lifestyle choice and from “I do’s” to “death you do part” is at once a tricky, unappreciated, ordinary, comforting and passionate journey.
I have always felt that my partner and I had very little in common in terms of our tastes, but even that begins to change as the years pass by. You begin to morph into each other a bit. He has begun to dress more the way I would dress a man (you’ll notice I said “more” and not completely). I have begun to embrace the silly and childlike in this world opting away from my more contemplative and sullen pursuits. We change and hopefully improve each other. Perhaps we are even refined by the process of building and repairing our relationship.
Lately, we have struggled with new issues that have arisen and have silently threatened our otherwise even-tempered home. To be sure, being a full-time employee, student and father is no easy task, but somehow a wife can still develop resentment after appearing to fall lower and lower on her husband’s priority list. In turn, a husband can get confused and frustrated by a wife’s change in attitude and sentiment and wish he could spend less time sorting things out and more time making love or simply getting on with life. Wow. We are strange and dissimilar creatures. No matter how similar you are in the beginning, your differences as men and women will catch up to you at some point and I have to believe that that’s okay.
How do the willing participants of a marriage address the pea underneath all those mattresses while still suffering from its ill effects? There seem to be more and more options available to a couple facing any number of issues. Most often we try letting the issue work itself out, after all, most issues are temporary and calm will be theoretically restored when the storm is over. If that doesn’t work, or in our case, that solution won’t come quickly enough, what is next? You can torture each other with hour long talks about the issue and resolve to attempt any number of complex methods that are forgotten as soon as the baby goes to bed and the T.V. is switched on. Repeat this step as many times as necessary before threatening each other with counseling. Counseling seems like this terrifying, last ditch effort to a lot of married couples. Not so. Third party perspective is often exactly the thing to turn the tables on a seemingly hopeless situation. Strangely enough, praying in each others presence also has the effect of speaking to a third party, when sincere. Often, it softens the listener enough to actually do the most dreaded of relational duties… accept responsibility! Then if things are going to work, we decide on the sacrifices that will be made for the sake of the union. Sticking to those sacrificial choices is the toughest part.
Why do all this?! Isn’t it easier to promise “to be together as long as we love?” Those are popular vows for a reason—it is easier. No honest married couple will deny that one or both partners have thought the dreaded “D” word at one time or another. We all know couples who chose this route with good and bad results. There is no doubt that in some situations it is the only option, but for most of us, it just isn’t. Obviously there have to be rewards to doing the hard work and getting through the rough patches. No matter what my emotions do, I really only love one man and getting over him would ruin me in a lot of ways. He is not just my partner, but my best friend and the father of my son—I could never loose all of those things without going completely numb. It’s not just the threat of loosing that keeps us doing the work—it’s the all too soon forgotten rewards of an awesome marriage that keeps us hooked on each other. I believe that the decision to marry someone is the bond itself—that you can never fully extract them from your soul.
While we have not had to deal with marriage crippling issues, we have our own set of difficulties that make us wonder and drift. We aren’t perfect, but in the end, we really care about each other more than ourselves and that is what real love is. Love is the ultimate motivator.
Accepting responsibility and making choices for the good of each other has made us closer than ever. I have to let go of my hang-ups for his sake and do those things that he needs from me. He communicates more and more and even sacrifices some of his own time to simply be with me or help me. It may seem excessive but our growing humility and concern for our relationship makes us want to do more—to get through a rough patch and find our way back to the bliss of our wedding day when we promised to love each other until death parted us.
This coming August, we will have been married for six years. Six years! We are now closer to a decade of marriage than to our wedding day. There is no turning back now. After all that time, I’m beginning to realize that all my collected knowledge on marriage amounts to a hill of beans. I realize more and more that marriage is an enigma and to attempt to understand or simplify the institution into small chewable amounts of information is ludicrous.
A lot of married couples find it hard to admit when there are difficult times. I am generally one of those people myself, but lately I’ve found there is much more to be learned by sharing the difficult truths than by glossing over your everyday life and all the complex ingredients of which it consists. We aren’t a perfect couple and we aren’t guaranteed to make it to that invisible, unspoken finish line for which a marriage is meant to strive. The point is that there is no finish line—there is no goal as such. That’s what makes the decision to marry such an intimidating one. Nothing compares to the nebulous expectations and lifespan of a marriage. Even when you become a parent, there are little accomplishments along the way that you can expect. You can even conceivably expect to “finish” your job as a parent to some extent at the end of about 18 to 21 years (although most parents would argue that point). Marriage isn’t a task—It’s a lifestyle choice and from “I do’s” to “death you do part” is at once a tricky, unappreciated, ordinary, comforting and passionate journey.
I have always felt that my partner and I had very little in common in terms of our tastes, but even that begins to change as the years pass by. You begin to morph into each other a bit. He has begun to dress more the way I would dress a man (you’ll notice I said “more” and not completely). I have begun to embrace the silly and childlike in this world opting away from my more contemplative and sullen pursuits. We change and hopefully improve each other. Perhaps we are even refined by the process of building and repairing our relationship.
Lately, we have struggled with new issues that have arisen and have silently threatened our otherwise even-tempered home. To be sure, being a full-time employee, student and father is no easy task, but somehow a wife can still develop resentment after appearing to fall lower and lower on her husband’s priority list. In turn, a husband can get confused and frustrated by a wife’s change in attitude and sentiment and wish he could spend less time sorting things out and more time making love or simply getting on with life. Wow. We are strange and dissimilar creatures. No matter how similar you are in the beginning, your differences as men and women will catch up to you at some point and I have to believe that that’s okay.
How do the willing participants of a marriage address the pea underneath all those mattresses while still suffering from its ill effects? There seem to be more and more options available to a couple facing any number of issues. Most often we try letting the issue work itself out, after all, most issues are temporary and calm will be theoretically restored when the storm is over. If that doesn’t work, or in our case, that solution won’t come quickly enough, what is next? You can torture each other with hour long talks about the issue and resolve to attempt any number of complex methods that are forgotten as soon as the baby goes to bed and the T.V. is switched on. Repeat this step as many times as necessary before threatening each other with counseling. Counseling seems like this terrifying, last ditch effort to a lot of married couples. Not so. Third party perspective is often exactly the thing to turn the tables on a seemingly hopeless situation. Strangely enough, praying in each others presence also has the effect of speaking to a third party, when sincere. Often, it softens the listener enough to actually do the most dreaded of relational duties… accept responsibility! Then if things are going to work, we decide on the sacrifices that will be made for the sake of the union. Sticking to those sacrificial choices is the toughest part.
Why do all this?! Isn’t it easier to promise “to be together as long as we love?” Those are popular vows for a reason—it is easier. No honest married couple will deny that one or both partners have thought the dreaded “D” word at one time or another. We all know couples who chose this route with good and bad results. There is no doubt that in some situations it is the only option, but for most of us, it just isn’t. Obviously there have to be rewards to doing the hard work and getting through the rough patches. No matter what my emotions do, I really only love one man and getting over him would ruin me in a lot of ways. He is not just my partner, but my best friend and the father of my son—I could never loose all of those things without going completely numb. It’s not just the threat of loosing that keeps us doing the work—it’s the all too soon forgotten rewards of an awesome marriage that keeps us hooked on each other. I believe that the decision to marry someone is the bond itself—that you can never fully extract them from your soul.
While we have not had to deal with marriage crippling issues, we have our own set of difficulties that make us wonder and drift. We aren’t perfect, but in the end, we really care about each other more than ourselves and that is what real love is. Love is the ultimate motivator.
Accepting responsibility and making choices for the good of each other has made us closer than ever. I have to let go of my hang-ups for his sake and do those things that he needs from me. He communicates more and more and even sacrifices some of his own time to simply be with me or help me. It may seem excessive but our growing humility and concern for our relationship makes us want to do more—to get through a rough patch and find our way back to the bliss of our wedding day when we promised to love each other until death parted us.
More Bloggerhea
| You Are 27 Years Old |
 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax. |
Not Bad! I act one year younger than my true age.
| What Your Dreams Mean... |
 Your dreams seem to show that you're a bit disturbed... but nothing serious. You may have a problem you're trying to work out in your sleep. Your dreams tend to reflect your insecurities. You have a very vivid imagination and a rich creative mind. |
I'm disturbed, but not too seriously? Isn't that most people?
| You Are 22% Evil |
 A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well. In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil. |
Thanks for trying Blogthings, but I'm a goody goody and I'm okay with it.
| Your Famous Movie Kiss is from Spiderman |
 "I have always been standing in your doorway. Isn't it about time somebody saved your life?" |
Cheesy, but I always like that one. Good call.
| You Are Iceman |
 You tried to live a normal life, but it just wasn't possible A bit of a slacker, you rather tell jokes than cultivate your powers Powers: turning self and others into ice, making ice weapons, becoming nearly invisible |
Boooooooooooo! I wanted Rogue.
| You Are Blonde Highlights |
 Men see you as flexible and versatile - you fit in to every situation You've got the inner glow of a blonde, the intensity of a redhead... And the wisdom of a brunette. |
So my hair is... white?
| You Are a Mermaid |
 You are a total daydreamer, and people tend to think you're flakier than you actually are. While your head is often in the clouds, you'll always come back to earth to help someone in need. Beyond being a caring person, you are also very intelligent and rational. You understand the connections of the universe better than almost anyone else. |
This explaination doesn't make much sense to me, but I have always wanted to be a mermaid.
| Star Wars Horoscope for Capricorn |
 You have a ton of ambition and inexhaustible desire to reach your goals. You are very loyal, going to great lengths to help someone out. You are a very social unit, winning the hearts of many with your cute personality. Star wars character you are most like: R2D2 |
I'm a droid? Even as a cute droid, I'm not doing so great today.
| Your Inner European is French! |
 Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so. |
Don't you mean "you" instead of "*you*". I'm just saying, italicizing something to imply a stress is not even remotely similar to the purpose of an asterisk. What? Are French people snobby too?
------------------------------
Okay enough bloggerhea! Time for a real post now, Naomi!
Friday, May 11, 2007
Why I Love You
After a discussion I had recently with a good friend, I decided I wanted to waste everyone’s time listing the specific things I love about the people I love. This is the result and I’m sure, a work in progress.
------------------
In no particular order…
Jason: I love your bravery, your vulnerability, your ability to forgive and care for others. I love your silliness and am always thrilled by your suddenly intense or poignant thoughts. I love your strength and your innocence. I love that you’re nothing like me. I love that you try and always hear what I say even if I can’t tell. I love the you I met, the you I fell for and the you you’ve become. I love spending all my time with you and I love that you love me the way you do. You’re my favorite person in the entire world. I love you period.
Jager: I love your smile, your tender little heart, your sense of humor and lack of fear (although that does scare me a bit). I love you from your head to your toes and from your skin to your soul! I love you for choosing me and for making me something I’ve always wanted to be… your mother.
Christina: I love that you’re always there, even when I don’t know it. I love your loyalty and your always bizarre sense of humor and its perfect timing. You are so and real and I love that about you. I love you for turning pain into laughter.
Jonie: I love that you never hold back and love so passionately not only your lover and children, but your friends… I love that I never feel like I’m struggling alone because your always a phone call away. I love you for rescuing me from myself. I love your humor, wisdom and bravery.
Mom: I love your encouraging spirit. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to so selfishly draw faith from. You are strength to me and I adore you more every day. I love your love of fun and of life! I love your sacrificial nature and I love that you struggle with things and that you’re real. No one could ever replace you.
Dad: I love your intensity and intellectual nature. I love how freely you show how you feel and how you can’t hide a thing. I love the Dad you were when I was small and I love the Dad and Grandfather you are trying so hard to be in the face of your devastation. I love your tenacity and loyalty.
Jay: I love your passion and your searching nature. I love your humor and its irony in a person as intense as you. I admire your respect for others and love that you care and feel so passionately and so privately at the same time. I love watching you become a whole new man.
Dave: I love the big brother you’ve always been to me. I love your passionate nature and your ability to adapt and love intensely. I love that you reach for people when you need them and struggle to always do what’s right.
Clara: I love your honesty with yourself. I love how brave you’ve become in the wake of your greatest loss. I love watching you rise from those ashes and I love the woman you’re becoming. I love your passionate loyalty and for never hesitating to fear and suffer with others. It’s impossible to feel alone with you in the world.
Gavin: I love the independent and creative man you’ve become. I love your strength and ability to communicate with others. I love your sacrificial nature and your private generosity. I admire you above most others. I love how your father is reflected in you.
Melanie: I loved that you always loved me even when you hurt me. I loved how proud you were of your family. I loved your weird sense of humor and moments of genuine truthfulness and revelation of your fear. I loved you where honest and I loved my memories of childhood shared with you. I loved your passion and I respected your struggle to win your life back.
Charmaine: I love your innocence and that you love genuinely. I love that there isn’t a mean thing about you and that if I ask you’ll give of yourself until the end. I love your generosity and sweetness.
Jarrod: I love your displays of affection and desire to please even if you struggle with what you really want. I love that you let me love you back and your intense loyalty. I admire your strength to love even those who have hurt you.
Jody: I love that you let yourself be a sibling to me. I love that you share your time and knowledge so freely. I love you for loving the people that I love.
Marie: I love you for caring for my husband and raising him to be the kind of man that I could love. I love your tender heart and your ability to listen and care earnestly.
Jean: I love your desperate need to express how much you love others. I love the intense wave of thoughts and feelings that go through you every moment. I love your kindred heart and your restless spirit. I love that I recognize your soul if that makes any sense.
Butch: I love you for being a father to the man I love. I love you because so much of him comes from you and I love your loyalty to your family. I love the way you’ve loved your wife for so many years and making marriage look easy.
Jen L.: I love your carefree spirit and love of life, family and adventure. I love how you can simplify things and make a person feel comfortable anywhere and like they aren’t alone in the room.
Jen R.: I love your intensity and zeal for almost everything! I love your tenacity, your energy and your desire to pursue the truth. I love your innocence and respect your apprehension as well.
-------------------------
I'm sure there are others, but that's it for now...
------------------
In no particular order…
Jason: I love your bravery, your vulnerability, your ability to forgive and care for others. I love your silliness and am always thrilled by your suddenly intense or poignant thoughts. I love your strength and your innocence. I love that you’re nothing like me. I love that you try and always hear what I say even if I can’t tell. I love the you I met, the you I fell for and the you you’ve become. I love spending all my time with you and I love that you love me the way you do. You’re my favorite person in the entire world. I love you period.
Jager: I love your smile, your tender little heart, your sense of humor and lack of fear (although that does scare me a bit). I love you from your head to your toes and from your skin to your soul! I love you for choosing me and for making me something I’ve always wanted to be… your mother.
Christina: I love that you’re always there, even when I don’t know it. I love your loyalty and your always bizarre sense of humor and its perfect timing. You are so and real and I love that about you. I love you for turning pain into laughter.
Jonie: I love that you never hold back and love so passionately not only your lover and children, but your friends… I love that I never feel like I’m struggling alone because your always a phone call away. I love you for rescuing me from myself. I love your humor, wisdom and bravery.
Mom: I love your encouraging spirit. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you to so selfishly draw faith from. You are strength to me and I adore you more every day. I love your love of fun and of life! I love your sacrificial nature and I love that you struggle with things and that you’re real. No one could ever replace you.
Dad: I love your intensity and intellectual nature. I love how freely you show how you feel and how you can’t hide a thing. I love the Dad you were when I was small and I love the Dad and Grandfather you are trying so hard to be in the face of your devastation. I love your tenacity and loyalty.
Jay: I love your passion and your searching nature. I love your humor and its irony in a person as intense as you. I admire your respect for others and love that you care and feel so passionately and so privately at the same time. I love watching you become a whole new man.
Dave: I love the big brother you’ve always been to me. I love your passionate nature and your ability to adapt and love intensely. I love that you reach for people when you need them and struggle to always do what’s right.
Clara: I love your honesty with yourself. I love how brave you’ve become in the wake of your greatest loss. I love watching you rise from those ashes and I love the woman you’re becoming. I love your passionate loyalty and for never hesitating to fear and suffer with others. It’s impossible to feel alone with you in the world.
Gavin: I love the independent and creative man you’ve become. I love your strength and ability to communicate with others. I love your sacrificial nature and your private generosity. I admire you above most others. I love how your father is reflected in you.
Melanie: I loved that you always loved me even when you hurt me. I loved how proud you were of your family. I loved your weird sense of humor and moments of genuine truthfulness and revelation of your fear. I loved you where honest and I loved my memories of childhood shared with you. I loved your passion and I respected your struggle to win your life back.
Charmaine: I love your innocence and that you love genuinely. I love that there isn’t a mean thing about you and that if I ask you’ll give of yourself until the end. I love your generosity and sweetness.
Jarrod: I love your displays of affection and desire to please even if you struggle with what you really want. I love that you let me love you back and your intense loyalty. I admire your strength to love even those who have hurt you.
Jody: I love that you let yourself be a sibling to me. I love that you share your time and knowledge so freely. I love you for loving the people that I love.
Marie: I love you for caring for my husband and raising him to be the kind of man that I could love. I love your tender heart and your ability to listen and care earnestly.
Jean: I love your desperate need to express how much you love others. I love the intense wave of thoughts and feelings that go through you every moment. I love your kindred heart and your restless spirit. I love that I recognize your soul if that makes any sense.
Butch: I love you for being a father to the man I love. I love you because so much of him comes from you and I love your loyalty to your family. I love the way you’ve loved your wife for so many years and making marriage look easy.
Jen L.: I love your carefree spirit and love of life, family and adventure. I love how you can simplify things and make a person feel comfortable anywhere and like they aren’t alone in the room.
Jen R.: I love your intensity and zeal for almost everything! I love your tenacity, your energy and your desire to pursue the truth. I love your innocence and respect your apprehension as well.
-------------------------
I'm sure there are others, but that's it for now...
Friday, May 04, 2007
Same In Any Language
Sometime ago I met a Navajo,
In a parking lot in Tokyo,
He said everything wordlessly,
Wonderlust in my eyes he did see,
Oh yeah,
Oh oh yeah.
Those postcards I sent to Birmingham,
All the way from those windows of Amsterdam,
I copped a gram from Dappersam
Just to fall at her man in another jam,
Oh yeah,
Oh oh yeah.
It's the same in any language,
A brother is a brother if there’s one thing I know,
It's the same in any language,
Wherever you go.
I ran out of Jack in Tripoli,
Oh those freedom fighters they were good to me,
They asked me all about Tennessee,
And on one thing we all did agree,
Ooh yeah,
Yeah oh oh yeah.
Wherever you go,
Where are you going, to?
Oh oh no no no no,
Where are you going, to?
Where you going to?
Everything is...
Say say say say say where are you going, to?
So where are you going, to?
I say where are you going?
Hoo hoo yeah.
----------------------
I'm in some kind of withdrawal. Is this total bloggerhea? Yeah. Well, it's either that or I'm going to start singing really loud into an imaginary microphone right here in the middle of Panera. "It's the saaaaaaaaaaaame in any language. A brother is a brother if there's one thing I know. It's the saaaaaaaaaaaame in any language... wherever you goooooooooo." Seriously, I've done it before, I'm not above such behaviour. I make no sense.
Do you ever feel like your legs are dying to do something really remarkable, but you can't make yourself move? This is what happens to a poor soul who has no creative and expressive outlet.
Wanderlust in my oë hy het gesien. Wat nie hy sien? Hy weet my beter as Ek ken my. Ek makeer om te gaan êrens. Ek kan nie gaan tuis, so ons gevestig vir Disney Wêreld. Wat het daardie sê omtrent my? Is Ek alleen op vir 'n rukkie van pret? Indien so, is daar iets verkeerd met dat? Ek regtig nie behoort hier.
In a parking lot in Tokyo,
He said everything wordlessly,
Wonderlust in my eyes he did see,
Oh yeah,
Oh oh yeah.
Those postcards I sent to Birmingham,
All the way from those windows of Amsterdam,
I copped a gram from Dappersam
Just to fall at her man in another jam,
Oh yeah,
Oh oh yeah.
It's the same in any language,
A brother is a brother if there’s one thing I know,
It's the same in any language,
Wherever you go.
I ran out of Jack in Tripoli,
Oh those freedom fighters they were good to me,
They asked me all about Tennessee,
And on one thing we all did agree,
Ooh yeah,
Yeah oh oh yeah.
Wherever you go,
Where are you going, to?
Oh oh no no no no,
Where are you going, to?
Where you going to?
Everything is...
Say say say say say where are you going, to?
So where are you going, to?
I say where are you going?
Hoo hoo yeah.
----------------------
I'm in some kind of withdrawal. Is this total bloggerhea? Yeah. Well, it's either that or I'm going to start singing really loud into an imaginary microphone right here in the middle of Panera. "It's the saaaaaaaaaaaame in any language. A brother is a brother if there's one thing I know. It's the saaaaaaaaaaaame in any language... wherever you goooooooooo." Seriously, I've done it before, I'm not above such behaviour. I make no sense.
Do you ever feel like your legs are dying to do something really remarkable, but you can't make yourself move? This is what happens to a poor soul who has no creative and expressive outlet.
Wanderlust in my oë hy het gesien. Wat nie hy sien? Hy weet my beter as Ek ken my. Ek makeer om te gaan êrens. Ek kan nie gaan tuis, so ons gevestig vir Disney Wêreld. Wat het daardie sê omtrent my? Is Ek alleen op vir 'n rukkie van pret? Indien so, is daar iets verkeerd met dat? Ek regtig nie behoort hier.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
A Brand New Quiz by Me--Take It If You Dare
Screw these stupid questions… I'm making my own quiz. If you feel like it, copy it and answer the questions too. I'm sick of reading about my friend's preference between diet coke and regular coke. I want to know the good stuff. :) Whatever, I'm bored and somewhat preoccupied with these quiz things lately. Endulge me.
Post your answers as a comment on here, or post in your own blog, myspace, whatever, I don't care. I'm just curious.
Quiz
1. What are you listening to now, EXACTLY?
2. What is your greatest secondary talent (based on a talent show my friends hold)?
3. What’s hotter: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or neopolitan?
4. If you were "playing for the other team"... who would be your ideal person?
5. What is your favorite Subway sandwich?
6. What is your favorite album right now?
7. What do you fantasize about more: space, the past, the future, reinventing the past, or a foreign country.
8. What is your favorite vegetable?
9. Name your first born son. What is his whole name?
10. If you were to start a band today, what would you call it?
11. I prefer: sunny skies, rain, clouds without rain, storms, hurricanes/tornados, fireworks
12. What is your dream occupation?
13. What was your favorite ‘80s sitcom?
14. Describe your childhood in less than 30 words.
15. Who were you in your past life?
16. Grossest thing you’ve ever eaten (according to most people)?
17. Confess your darkest secret here, then delete it. …we almost read it!!
18. Which of your friends do you admire most at the moment and why?
19. Number 19 was harmed in the making of this quiz.
20. How about a bit of word association, stupid quiz style? Just say the first word that comes to mind when you read the following words. NO THINKING!
carrot:
green:
wallpaper:
simon and garfunkel:
nose:
weave:
abstract:
splenda:
Britney:
vestido:
red:
voice:
See… that was fun, right?
21. What is your favorite brand of shoes (whether you own any or not)?
22. What was your favorite Atari game?
23. How long does it take you to get ready for bed and what does your routine entail?
24. Guilty confession. What is the longest amount of time you’ve ever spent…
playing video games:
talking on the phone:
in the shower:
surfing the internets:
25. What is your favorite number?
26. What is your most overused word(s)?
27. Favorite song lyrics (right now)?
28. Stop for a second. Clear your head. … … … … … ... what are you thinking about?
---------------------------------------------
Of course, I had to answer them myself. I had to test them. I would never ask you soemthing I couldn't ask myself. I have no idea what that means.
1. What are you listening to now, EXACTLY?
The band, Air. The album Talkie Walkie. A track called "Alpha Beta Gaga"
2. What is your greatest secondary talent (based on a talent show my friends hold)?
Winning stuffed animals out of that claw game at arcades.
3. What's hotter: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or neopolitan?
none. I'm thinking, sticky.
4. If you were "playing for the other team," who would be your ideal person?
Lucy Liu
5. What is your favorite Subway sandwich?
roasted chicken with extra pickles, spinach, tomatoes, olives and light mayo.
6. What is your favorite album right now?
Colin Hay's, Going Somewhere.
7. What do you fantasize about more: space, the past, the future, reinventing the past, or a foreign country.
foreign countries
8. What is your favorite vegetable?
asparagas
9. Name your first born son. What is his whole name?
William Jager... already did that. Will a second do? Johan Jason
10. If you were to start a band today, what would you call it?
On the spot? The Perfunctory Wave Mechanism
11. I prefer: sunny skies, rain, clouds without rain, storms, hurricanes/tornados, fireworks
all but hurricanes etc...
12. What is your dream occupation?
Music writer or travel writer... or both!
13. What was your favorite '80s sitcom?
The Cosby Show
14. Describe your childhood in less than 30 words.
terry cloth, freedom, trampolines, poodles, ataris, cousins, stairs, tape decks, ralph machio, jellies, swimming pools, riding bikes, neighbors, growing alfalfa sprouts, slip and slides, school lunches, smashing PB&Js, hidabeds, Crystal's, units, hearts, Lisa Frank, amazed by a remote control, no front teeth, hand me downs, small. Is that thirty?
15. Who were you in your past life?
Someone ordinary. A mom, a widow and a dreamer, but I didn't leave home much even though I wanted to.
16. Grossest thing you've ever eaten (according to most people)?
It's a tie between french toast with ketchup and raw tuna.
17. Confess your darkest secret here, then delete it. …we almost read it!!
...
18. Which of your friends do you admire most at the moment and why?
Aaron, my best friend's husband. He seems to see beyond the ordinary things and instead sees something unique and funny. He doesn't seem to care what people think.
19. A moment of silence for number 19.
20. How about a bit of word association, stupid quiz style? Just say the first word that comes to mind when you read the following words. NO THINKING!
carrot: baby food
green: energy
wallpaper: tacky
simon and garfunkel: mom
nose: ugly
weave: hair
abstract: art
splenda: yellow
Britney: sad
vestido: ropa
red: melanie
voice: singing lessons
See… that was fun, right?
21. What is your favorite brand of shoes (whether you own any or not)?
Christian Louboutin
22. What was your favorite Atari game?
Frogger
23. What is your nightly "get ready for bed" routine entail? How long do you take?
About 15 uninterupted minutes. I wash my face, or shower (depending), do the face regimine: wash, tone, moisturize. I brush my hair, put on something to sleep in, brush my teeth, take out my contacts, put on glasses, and listen to my ipod in bed. This was a boring question. Sorry.
24. Guilty confession. What is the longest amount of time you've ever spent…
playing video games: about 10 hours
talking on the phone: about 9 hours
in the shower: 1.5 hours
surfing the internets: an entire day's work... about 8 hours.
25. What is your favorite number?
3
26. What is your most overused word(s)?
"I" and "sorry"
27. Favorite song lyrics (right now)?
"Yo sé que en los mil besos que te he dado en la bocase me fue el corazón; y dicen que es pecado querer como te quiero, Quizás tengan razón."
-or-
"I know that in the thousand kisses that I have given you on the mouth my heart left me; and they say that it's a sin to love as I love you, Maybe they're right."
-Patty Griffin, "Mil Besos"
28. Stop for a second. Clear your head. … … … … … … what are you thinking about?
my answer to number 25. Crap.
Post your answers as a comment on here, or post in your own blog, myspace, whatever, I don't care. I'm just curious.
Quiz
1. What are you listening to now, EXACTLY?
2. What is your greatest secondary talent (based on a talent show my friends hold)?
3. What’s hotter: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or neopolitan?
4. If you were "playing for the other team"... who would be your ideal person?
5. What is your favorite Subway sandwich?
6. What is your favorite album right now?
7. What do you fantasize about more: space, the past, the future, reinventing the past, or a foreign country.
8. What is your favorite vegetable?
9. Name your first born son. What is his whole name?
10. If you were to start a band today, what would you call it?
11. I prefer: sunny skies, rain, clouds without rain, storms, hurricanes/tornados, fireworks
12. What is your dream occupation?
13. What was your favorite ‘80s sitcom?
14. Describe your childhood in less than 30 words.
15. Who were you in your past life?
16. Grossest thing you’ve ever eaten (according to most people)?
17. Confess your darkest secret here, then delete it. …we almost read it!!
18. Which of your friends do you admire most at the moment and why?
19. Number 19 was harmed in the making of this quiz.
20. How about a bit of word association, stupid quiz style? Just say the first word that comes to mind when you read the following words. NO THINKING!
carrot:
green:
wallpaper:
simon and garfunkel:
nose:
weave:
abstract:
splenda:
Britney:
vestido:
red:
voice:
See… that was fun, right?
21. What is your favorite brand of shoes (whether you own any or not)?
22. What was your favorite Atari game?
23. How long does it take you to get ready for bed and what does your routine entail?
24. Guilty confession. What is the longest amount of time you’ve ever spent…
playing video games:
talking on the phone:
in the shower:
surfing the internets:
25. What is your favorite number?
26. What is your most overused word(s)?
27. Favorite song lyrics (right now)?
28. Stop for a second. Clear your head. … … … … … ... what are you thinking about?
---------------------------------------------
Of course, I had to answer them myself. I had to test them. I would never ask you soemthing I couldn't ask myself. I have no idea what that means.
1. What are you listening to now, EXACTLY?
The band, Air. The album Talkie Walkie. A track called "Alpha Beta Gaga"
2. What is your greatest secondary talent (based on a talent show my friends hold)?
Winning stuffed animals out of that claw game at arcades.
3. What's hotter: chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or neopolitan?
none. I'm thinking, sticky.
4. If you were "playing for the other team," who would be your ideal person?
Lucy Liu
5. What is your favorite Subway sandwich?
roasted chicken with extra pickles, spinach, tomatoes, olives and light mayo.
6. What is your favorite album right now?
Colin Hay's, Going Somewhere.
7. What do you fantasize about more: space, the past, the future, reinventing the past, or a foreign country.
foreign countries
8. What is your favorite vegetable?
asparagas
9. Name your first born son. What is his whole name?
William Jager... already did that. Will a second do? Johan Jason
10. If you were to start a band today, what would you call it?
On the spot? The Perfunctory Wave Mechanism
11. I prefer: sunny skies, rain, clouds without rain, storms, hurricanes/tornados, fireworks
all but hurricanes etc...
12. What is your dream occupation?
Music writer or travel writer... or both!
13. What was your favorite '80s sitcom?
The Cosby Show
14. Describe your childhood in less than 30 words.
terry cloth, freedom, trampolines, poodles, ataris, cousins, stairs, tape decks, ralph machio, jellies, swimming pools, riding bikes, neighbors, growing alfalfa sprouts, slip and slides, school lunches, smashing PB&Js, hidabeds, Crystal's, units, hearts, Lisa Frank, amazed by a remote control, no front teeth, hand me downs, small. Is that thirty?
15. Who were you in your past life?
Someone ordinary. A mom, a widow and a dreamer, but I didn't leave home much even though I wanted to.
16. Grossest thing you've ever eaten (according to most people)?
It's a tie between french toast with ketchup and raw tuna.
17. Confess your darkest secret here, then delete it. …we almost read it!!
...
18. Which of your friends do you admire most at the moment and why?
Aaron, my best friend's husband. He seems to see beyond the ordinary things and instead sees something unique and funny. He doesn't seem to care what people think.
19. A moment of silence for number 19.
20. How about a bit of word association, stupid quiz style? Just say the first word that comes to mind when you read the following words. NO THINKING!
carrot: baby food
green: energy
wallpaper: tacky
simon and garfunkel: mom
nose: ugly
weave: hair
abstract: art
splenda: yellow
Britney: sad
vestido: ropa
red: melanie
voice: singing lessons
See… that was fun, right?
21. What is your favorite brand of shoes (whether you own any or not)?
Christian Louboutin
22. What was your favorite Atari game?
Frogger
23. What is your nightly "get ready for bed" routine entail? How long do you take?
About 15 uninterupted minutes. I wash my face, or shower (depending), do the face regimine: wash, tone, moisturize. I brush my hair, put on something to sleep in, brush my teeth, take out my contacts, put on glasses, and listen to my ipod in bed. This was a boring question. Sorry.
24. Guilty confession. What is the longest amount of time you've ever spent…
playing video games: about 10 hours
talking on the phone: about 9 hours
in the shower: 1.5 hours
surfing the internets: an entire day's work... about 8 hours.
25. What is your favorite number?
3
26. What is your most overused word(s)?
"I" and "sorry"
27. Favorite song lyrics (right now)?
"Yo sé que en los mil besos que te he dado en la bocase me fue el corazón; y dicen que es pecado querer como te quiero, Quizás tengan razón."
-or-
"I know that in the thousand kisses that I have given you on the mouth my heart left me; and they say that it's a sin to love as I love you, Maybe they're right."
-Patty Griffin, "Mil Besos"
28. Stop for a second. Clear your head. … … … … … … what are you thinking about?
my answer to number 25. Crap.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Subjects Are For REAL Blog Posts...
| You Are Expressionism |
 |
http://www.blogthings.com/whatartmovementareyouquiz/">What Art Movement Are You?
| Your Preppy Name Is... |
 |
What does this have to do with anything? Who decided that I'm to called "Bunny." POINTLESS! still slightly entertained...
| You Failed 8th Grade Spanish |
 |
http://www.blogthings.com/couldyoupass8thgradespanishquiz/">Could You Pass 8th Grade Spanish?
While this one is the most useful so far... it was totally boring. :) By the way, I'm a bit disappointed in myself.
| You Are 80% Intuitive |
 |
http://www.blogthings.com/howintuitiveareyouquiz/">How Intuitive Are You?
So what you're saying is, is that I'm both intuitive AND logical?
| You Date Like a Woman |
 A mental and emotional connection always comes first for you.And rushing the physical stuff is likely to turn you off. You're highly selective when it comes to dating, and some may say you're too picky.You know what you want, and when you find it, you're ready to commit. |
http://www.blogthings.com/doyoudatelikeamanorawomanquiz/">Do You Date Like a Man or a Woman?
I have nothing to say about this, except, doesn't matter much for me.
| You Have Good Manners 78% of the Time |
 |
http://www.blogthings.com/howareyourmannersquiz/">How Are Your Manners?
Now everyone knows.
| Your Celebrity Boob Twin: |
 |
Nice.
| The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic |
 Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few. But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky. Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski |
This is awesome! I kind of agree, whatever that means.
| You Are 12% Capitalist, 88% Socialist |
 You see a lot of injustice in the world, and you'd like to see it fixed. As far as you're concerned, all the wrong people have the power. You're strongly in favor of the redistribution of wealth - and more protection for the average person. |
Yikes. Don't tell Dubya!
| You Are a Believer |
 You definitely believe in God - and you're very unwavering in your religious beliefs. In fact, religion and spirituality are definitely big parts of your life. Religion shapes how you view right and wrong, as well as the decisions you make. It's hard for you to imagine how your life would be without your beliefs. |
The "believer" part is right, but the rest of that dribble is unneccessary and particially untrue.
| Your Blogging Type Is Thoughtful and Considerate |
 You're a well liked, though underrated, blogger. You have a heart of gold, and are likely to blog for a cause. You're a peaceful blogger - no drama for you! A good listener and friend, you tend to leave thoughtful comments for others. |
To the two people out there who read this on purpose and the one person who found it on accident... is this true? I'm a self-indulgent, lazy blogger... how about that? :)
Friday, April 13, 2007
A Funner Pilfered Quiz Post - thanks EMac
1) What stickers do you have on your car?
The standard vehicle stuff and an SNU alumni sticker.
2) What posters do you have in your room?
None. I do have some pointless artwork to “tie the room together.” One’s a photo of long stemmed calla lilies and the other is a print of some white flowers in an urn… very classy. I also have a 4x6 photo of the three of us on the dresser—that’s the best one in the room.
3) What do you hear right now?
Alison Krauss and silverwear clanking.
4) If you could drink anything right this second, what would it be?
What I’m drinking… a frozen caramel cappuccino thingy.
5) Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Yeaaaaaaaaaaah. Thanks for asking. :) My neck, on the left… it’s giving me a headache.
6) Do you need a new job?
Depends who you ask. :) I think I’m good though.
7) What size ring do you wear?
6 on my ring finger.
8) Do you own a camera phone?
Yes. “the world’s smallest camara flip phone” too!
9) When's your birthday?
January 3rd
10) What was your elementary schools mascot?
Warriors…the native American kind, not the Roman kind.
11) What's your favorite bottled water?
Fiji
12) What's the next concert/show you're going to?
The next big one is Alison Krauss! The last one was Rod Stewart… not that you asked. And the next one (regardless of size of venue) is Grandpa Griffith.
13) What were you doing at 9 pm last night?
Eating dinner with two awesome guys.
14) What's your favorite Starbucks drink?
I can’t stand Starbucks…too bitter.
15) 2 door or 4 door cars?
Four doors are kind of a necessity now, not that they keep me from knocking Jag’s head every so often. :(
16) Did you attend your High School prom?:
We didn’t have a prom because we were a public school that was pretty much run by the Nazarene Illuminati. We had very civilized “banquets,” that were followed by parent sponsored orgies/dances in the dancehall of the same venue. And yes, I went.
17) Did you go to someone else's prom?:
Nope. No one ever asked.
18) Would you give your bf/gf a second chance if they cheated?
Yikes.
19) Something red within 5 feet of you?
A beballcapped woman’s patriotically red fleece jacket.
20) Favorite kind of ice cream?
It’s not my favorite… maybe cherry vanilla.
21) The weirdest thing you've seen this week?
1). My son laughing at my mom and I have a discussion that really wasn’t that funny unless you really thought about it… He really thought about it… he’s one!
2). A boring old man making his fun-loving wife sit down when she tried to dance for him at a concert. He’s probably frigid too.
22) Ever done the Electric Slide?
Never could.
23) How much French do you know?
Ze po-ta-toes and ze keessing… ah ze keessing iz nie-ees.
24) What made your day good today?
Mother’s Day Out and time alone.
26) Do you look good in yellow?
I don’t think so.
27) Ever sang in front of a crowd?
Often.
28) Do you dance?:
Yes, but really only for my son… to make him laugh. I am ashamed.
29) Least favorite color?:
I don’t think I have one. Maybe that crayon that is kind of mix between pea green and greenish yellow. That’s the color of nausea.
30) Favorite kind of pizza?:
Chicago style with the works… hold the onions please.
31) Ever had Dippin Dots?
Yes. No spoon necessary.
32) Ever make fun of a homeless person?:
Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeah. I also routinely humiliate the elderly, injured children, blind dogs, crying people, amputees and veterans.
33) How old were you when you got your license?:
16.
34) How many driving tickets have you had?:
Countless.
35) Number 35 was sadly lost in the making of this quiz. Let's all take a moment of silence to remember... the Number 35.
36) Do you own your own car?:
Yes.
37) Do you want to get married?:
Been married for a lot of years now, and going on a hell of a lot of years.
38) At what age do you want to get married?
I always imagined getting married when I was 22 because that’s how old Kimberly Williams-Paisley was supposed to be when she got married in “Father of the Bride.” It was good enough for her, so it was good enough for me. So yeah, I was 22—but that’s really young, looking back on it.
39) Have you ever had to get a restraining order?:
Yes.
40) At what age do you want to have kids?:
44… oops, too late. How about 27, 29/30 and 32/33?
41) How many kids?:
One so far, but the oven is temporary locked at the moment.
42) Ketchup or Mustard?:
Ketchup
43) When is the last time someone deleted you from their space?
What does that even mean? Has this phrase usurped the place that the most used “talk to the hand” phrase once held in our society?
44) How many times a week are you on MySpace?:
About 2 or 3 times.
45) Ever been kicked out of your home?:
No.
46) Favorite character on Friends?
Rachel.
47) Ever have a crush on a teacher?:
No, but I’ve really fascinated by one before.
48) Favorite class?:
Shakespeare
49) Have a best friend?
Yes. I think I have more than one.
50) One place you want to travel to?:
Italy, Japan, South Africa and Disneyworld. :)
The standard vehicle stuff and an SNU alumni sticker.
2) What posters do you have in your room?
None. I do have some pointless artwork to “tie the room together.” One’s a photo of long stemmed calla lilies and the other is a print of some white flowers in an urn… very classy. I also have a 4x6 photo of the three of us on the dresser—that’s the best one in the room.
3) What do you hear right now?
Alison Krauss and silverwear clanking.
4) If you could drink anything right this second, what would it be?
What I’m drinking… a frozen caramel cappuccino thingy.
5) Does anything hurt on your body right now?
Yeaaaaaaaaaaah. Thanks for asking. :) My neck, on the left… it’s giving me a headache.
6) Do you need a new job?
Depends who you ask. :) I think I’m good though.
7) What size ring do you wear?
6 on my ring finger.
8) Do you own a camera phone?
Yes. “the world’s smallest camara flip phone” too!
9) When's your birthday?
January 3rd
10) What was your elementary schools mascot?
Warriors…the native American kind, not the Roman kind.
11) What's your favorite bottled water?
Fiji
12) What's the next concert/show you're going to?
The next big one is Alison Krauss! The last one was Rod Stewart… not that you asked. And the next one (regardless of size of venue) is Grandpa Griffith.
13) What were you doing at 9 pm last night?
Eating dinner with two awesome guys.
14) What's your favorite Starbucks drink?
I can’t stand Starbucks…too bitter.
15) 2 door or 4 door cars?
Four doors are kind of a necessity now, not that they keep me from knocking Jag’s head every so often. :(
16) Did you attend your High School prom?:
We didn’t have a prom because we were a public school that was pretty much run by the Nazarene Illuminati. We had very civilized “banquets,” that were followed by parent sponsored orgies/dances in the dancehall of the same venue. And yes, I went.
17) Did you go to someone else's prom?:
Nope. No one ever asked.
18) Would you give your bf/gf a second chance if they cheated?
Yikes.
19) Something red within 5 feet of you?
A beballcapped woman’s patriotically red fleece jacket.
20) Favorite kind of ice cream?
It’s not my favorite… maybe cherry vanilla.
21) The weirdest thing you've seen this week?
1). My son laughing at my mom and I have a discussion that really wasn’t that funny unless you really thought about it… He really thought about it… he’s one!
2). A boring old man making his fun-loving wife sit down when she tried to dance for him at a concert. He’s probably frigid too.
22) Ever done the Electric Slide?
Never could.
23) How much French do you know?
Ze po-ta-toes and ze keessing… ah ze keessing iz nie-ees.
24) What made your day good today?
Mother’s Day Out and time alone.
26) Do you look good in yellow?
I don’t think so.
27) Ever sang in front of a crowd?
Often.
28) Do you dance?:
Yes, but really only for my son… to make him laugh. I am ashamed.
29) Least favorite color?:
I don’t think I have one. Maybe that crayon that is kind of mix between pea green and greenish yellow. That’s the color of nausea.
30) Favorite kind of pizza?:
Chicago style with the works… hold the onions please.
31) Ever had Dippin Dots?
Yes. No spoon necessary.
32) Ever make fun of a homeless person?:
Oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeah. I also routinely humiliate the elderly, injured children, blind dogs, crying people, amputees and veterans.
33) How old were you when you got your license?:
16.
34) How many driving tickets have you had?:
Countless.
35) Number 35 was sadly lost in the making of this quiz. Let's all take a moment of silence to remember... the Number 35.
36) Do you own your own car?:
Yes.
37) Do you want to get married?:
Been married for a lot of years now, and going on a hell of a lot of years.
38) At what age do you want to get married?
I always imagined getting married when I was 22 because that’s how old Kimberly Williams-Paisley was supposed to be when she got married in “Father of the Bride.” It was good enough for her, so it was good enough for me. So yeah, I was 22—but that’s really young, looking back on it.
39) Have you ever had to get a restraining order?:
Yes.
40) At what age do you want to have kids?:
44… oops, too late. How about 27, 29/30 and 32/33?
41) How many kids?:
One so far, but the oven is temporary locked at the moment.
42) Ketchup or Mustard?:
Ketchup
43) When is the last time someone deleted you from their space?
What does that even mean? Has this phrase usurped the place that the most used “talk to the hand” phrase once held in our society?
44) How many times a week are you on MySpace?:
About 2 or 3 times.
45) Ever been kicked out of your home?:
No.
46) Favorite character on Friends?
Rachel.
47) Ever have a crush on a teacher?:
No, but I’ve really fascinated by one before.
48) Favorite class?:
Shakespeare
49) Have a best friend?
Yes. I think I have more than one.
50) One place you want to travel to?:
Italy, Japan, South Africa and Disneyworld. :)
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
It’s Time
Yesterday was my sister's birthday. She would have been 31.
Ever since my sister died, I keep going back to an especially fond memory I have of when she took me to get my first tattoo. I was 17 years old and she lied about my age for me to the guy who had done her tattoo—so he agreed to ink me with the same tattoo she had gotten, only smaller and blue instead of a red one like hers. They were these simple little flower tattoos, but they spoke volumes about who we were as sisters. Hers was larger and bright red. She was the older sister and had a “red” personality—vibrant, outgoing, passionate, troubled and loving. Mine was small and cobalt blue. I am obviously younger by three years and my personality has always been calmer, funnier but just as passionate. They were easy to get, and easy to forget. I’ve gotten other tattoos since then, and at one time I felt this little blue flower was superfluous and I even considered getting it removed once. Thank God all I did was consider it. This seemingly harmless, pointless little girl of a tattoo is one of the realest things I have with which to remember my big sister.
Her bold red tattoo now exists in the form of ashes that are housed in a box on my mom’s dresser. I want that tattoo back. I want to transfer her half of that memory to my body. Now, I’m ready… now, it’s time.
I'll post pictures of my progress and of course, of the finished product.
-----------------
"... Ain't nothin' left at all in the end of bein' proud with me riding in this car, and you flyin' through them clouds. I've had some time to think about it and watch the sun sink like a stone. I've had some time to think about you... on the long ride home."
Ever since my sister died, I keep going back to an especially fond memory I have of when she took me to get my first tattoo. I was 17 years old and she lied about my age for me to the guy who had done her tattoo—so he agreed to ink me with the same tattoo she had gotten, only smaller and blue instead of a red one like hers. They were these simple little flower tattoos, but they spoke volumes about who we were as sisters. Hers was larger and bright red. She was the older sister and had a “red” personality—vibrant, outgoing, passionate, troubled and loving. Mine was small and cobalt blue. I am obviously younger by three years and my personality has always been calmer, funnier but just as passionate. They were easy to get, and easy to forget. I’ve gotten other tattoos since then, and at one time I felt this little blue flower was superfluous and I even considered getting it removed once. Thank God all I did was consider it. This seemingly harmless, pointless little girl of a tattoo is one of the realest things I have with which to remember my big sister.
Her bold red tattoo now exists in the form of ashes that are housed in a box on my mom’s dresser. I want that tattoo back. I want to transfer her half of that memory to my body. Now, I’m ready… now, it’s time.
I'll post pictures of my progress and of course, of the finished product.
-----------------
"... Ain't nothin' left at all in the end of bein' proud with me riding in this car, and you flyin' through them clouds. I've had some time to think about it and watch the sun sink like a stone. I've had some time to think about you... on the long ride home."
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
"I Love Him Too Much," she said.
If you’ve never loved someone so much that you feared that you actually loved them too much—then you haven’t fully lived yet. That kind of love is terrifying but can only be given by choice. There’s no doubt that life is easier without caring about someone else (someone you can’t control) that much, but the pain of this kind of love makes you realize some big things about the world. My eyes have been opened by a boy of only 2 feet and 5 inches tall.
I wish I could say that I grasped the love of God my whole life and that I have called myself a Christian for all the right reasons, but that simply wouldn’t be true. I became a Christian in an emotionally charged and somewhat manipulated moment at church camp—a mass salvation. I don’t even know how old I was. I used to resent that set-up, and perhaps I still do a bit. The fact is that since that moment, I’ve been enduring someone else’s idea of faith. Through all the confusion and indifference, I know God knew the right way to orchestrate my coming understanding of His love and what He wants from me.
Just as it took the birth of a child to change the world, it took a child to change my resentment into understanding. Parental love is intense—one part emotional, one part biological. Whatever the recipe, it is the only time I’ve ever experienced true Agape (unconditional) love. Unconditional love is scary and for most people, a myth. This kind of love changes you—it makes you stronger, more confident and less self aware. It’s the medicine I’ve needed my whole life.
I wish I could say that I grasped the love of God my whole life and that I have called myself a Christian for all the right reasons, but that simply wouldn’t be true. I became a Christian in an emotionally charged and somewhat manipulated moment at church camp—a mass salvation. I don’t even know how old I was. I used to resent that set-up, and perhaps I still do a bit. The fact is that since that moment, I’ve been enduring someone else’s idea of faith. Through all the confusion and indifference, I know God knew the right way to orchestrate my coming understanding of His love and what He wants from me.
Just as it took the birth of a child to change the world, it took a child to change my resentment into understanding. Parental love is intense—one part emotional, one part biological. Whatever the recipe, it is the only time I’ve ever experienced true Agape (unconditional) love. Unconditional love is scary and for most people, a myth. This kind of love changes you—it makes you stronger, more confident and less self aware. It’s the medicine I’ve needed my whole life.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
A Message From the Past
My uncle’s former church is doing some remodeling in their sanctuary. Two weeks after my uncle and his family accepted the church many years ago, it burned to the ground in some kind of electrical accident. He pledged himself to its rebuilding and the new sanctuary is cavernous, modern and filled with light. It’s simple, but beautiful. He oversaw every detail of the project and he (among several others) took the opportunity to write on the concrete floor before the carpet went down.The people of the church have since found two of his messages and have taken photos for us to see. The photo above shows a prayer he wrote just underneath where the pulpit would have been—his pulpit. “How will they know unless someone tells them. (Help me in this capacity Lord!)” The irony of his prayer is that he died while on a mission trip to South Africa (our home). He died after spending a few days with his grieving cousin (who just lost his son) and no doubt revealing the wondrous and freeing realities of Christ that are rarely shared from behind a pulpit.
My mom, dad and aunt went to the Brennen Manning conference this past weekend at a local Baptist Church. For anyone unacquainted with Manning, I could attempt to sum up his ideology by repeating the phrase, “wondrous and freeing realities of Christ.” He is a former Catholic priest who lives as a recovering alcoholic and frequent smoker. He also lives in the freedom and grace of Christ and his ministry is ground shaking. This is what the world is dying for—to know the truth about all this faith stuff! How many people (non-Christians and Christians alike) would be surprised to learn the philosophy of Jesus Christ as evidenced by his choices and teachings? Why don’t we look at this man sent to earth for us and see what is so clear—that grace and love sets us free—that a sinner can go to Heaven. Maybe I’m treading on some delicate theological ground here, but if sinners don’t go to Heaven then Heaven must be empty! So we ask for forgiveness? How often must we ask? The answer (I have learned since my sister’s death) is GRACE. Grace goes ahead of us and petitions for us. I don’t fully understand the concept of grace, but I do know that I am grateful for the one thing that allows me the privilege of freedom if I choose it.
My mom has continued to struggle with my sister’s death in a way that I have not. I have had peace and joy for my sister as strange as that sounds. I know that she lives without the bondage that isolated and defeated her. Her dreams were simple: to be free and to go home. She has done both and I feel peace for that reason; however, my mother is more bound by legalistic teachings that rob her of peace. I believe that legalism or whatever you call those things that alienate non-Christians from “religion” or faith—the rules that Christians (and others) live and judge by—are simply the complications we have made faith and an attack from that which opposes the Lord. Without the complications, we are left with a treasure that is worth giving your life for, something worth “telling them, so that they will know.”
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
A Sound I Can't Ignore
I just used my voice recorder on my cell phone for the first time the other day. Being the kind of person I am, there was no way I actually wanted to hear the sound of my voice after I had recorded it, but eventually I did need to hear the message I left for myself so that I could get the information I knew I wouldn’t remember. I played that message twice and for a large portion of the message, I swear I heard my sister’s voice. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before. But there is a similarity between Mel and me, when you listen. I pretended that I was listening to her having one of long-talking episodes and I was simply waiting for my opportunity to respond. It’s funny that I would listen to my own voice over and over just to catch a glimpse of my sister. But I did.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Walk the Line
I love the movie Walk the Line. I can’t remember the last time I cried when the guy got the girl. What a story. Great music, drama, sarcasm and real love--I love that movie.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
My Birthday!
Today is Naomi’s Birthday Eve. Tomorrow I turn 28 years old.
When I was about 7, I spent the day before my birthday at my Grandma’s house. I was so excited, maybe even hyper about my birthday the next day that my Gran even got into the act. Nobody has ever believed me but I promise you, my 60-something year old (at the time) Gran did cartwheels in her living room! We were laughing so hard when she dubbed this day, “Naomi’s Birthday Eve.” She wrote in on her calendar for years and I’ve always attempted to get everyone I know to celebrate the event of my birth for not just one, but TWO days! I’m so not vain.
This birthday is the first birthday I can remember where I am not terribly thrilled about growing a year older. I don’t know when becoming a year older became less of the focus of my actual birthday, but suddenly, I realize, that it isn’t the part I want to stress anymore.
I’ve also never enjoyed having a birthday less than two weeks post-Christmas and one day after New Year’s Day. Having said all of that, this year is the last year I choose to acknowledge January 3rd as my birthday. From now on, I hope to enjoy a quiet dinner with my family on my actual birthday in January, but celebrate it on June 3rd instead. It is exactly 6 months from my birthday and a much better time to party. No more forgetfulness, no more hangover excuses, no more brokenness! Weeeeeeeeeee. The only problem I face now is that my best friend’s husband has prior claim to June 3rd. Eh, it’ll work out.
Well, Happy Birthday to me! What ever shall I do tomorrow??
When I was about 7, I spent the day before my birthday at my Grandma’s house. I was so excited, maybe even hyper about my birthday the next day that my Gran even got into the act. Nobody has ever believed me but I promise you, my 60-something year old (at the time) Gran did cartwheels in her living room! We were laughing so hard when she dubbed this day, “Naomi’s Birthday Eve.” She wrote in on her calendar for years and I’ve always attempted to get everyone I know to celebrate the event of my birth for not just one, but TWO days! I’m so not vain.
This birthday is the first birthday I can remember where I am not terribly thrilled about growing a year older. I don’t know when becoming a year older became less of the focus of my actual birthday, but suddenly, I realize, that it isn’t the part I want to stress anymore.
I’ve also never enjoyed having a birthday less than two weeks post-Christmas and one day after New Year’s Day. Having said all of that, this year is the last year I choose to acknowledge January 3rd as my birthday. From now on, I hope to enjoy a quiet dinner with my family on my actual birthday in January, but celebrate it on June 3rd instead. It is exactly 6 months from my birthday and a much better time to party. No more forgetfulness, no more hangover excuses, no more brokenness! Weeeeeeeeeee. The only problem I face now is that my best friend’s husband has prior claim to June 3rd. Eh, it’ll work out.
Well, Happy Birthday to me! What ever shall I do tomorrow??
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