Random.... but why not?

I always feel ever so slightly guilty when I do random, pointless entries.

But obviously not guilty enough. :)

A limereick en Espanol
El Gato Gordo

There once was a Gato Gordo,
Who lived at Guinevere Court-o
He got there so fat
He exploded in fact
And that was the end of El Gordo.

(Written by a wonderful woman who decided when I was interested in writing that she would hire someone to tutor me, claiming that she, herself, was unable to teach me. Why would she think that? This poem, by the way, is in honor of our cat, who has so many nicknames that we rarely use the one he was given. My family has a thing for nicknames. For example, the cat is Tibukula, Tibberooni, Tibers, Blooky-duke, Mr. Tibs, etc. His real name is Tiberius. Hideous, I know, but we didn't name him.)

I think I'm going to get my hair cut like Jennifer Anniston's was. I like that cut.... However, this does not mean that I approve of her views of marriage (she doesn't believe in monogamy), nor that my relationship will last five years. On the contrary, mine last only about one week....

My Spanish TA always uses this lab... I like it when he comes over and asks me to explain what a word in English is, or whether you use a stove or oven to roast meat in. I think I'm going to study abroad in Madrid this next summer.

My hands are already dry... that's not supposed to happen until it get really cold.

The roomie and I cleaned up the debri from a Level 5 hurricane that apparently ravaged our room this week. We decided that we were true servants because we didn't even get funding or relief efforts to help with our natural disaster.... But currently everything in "Mortney Land" is in tip-top shape. We even dusted all surfaces and scrubbed out the fridge.

My dearest dad met me for lunch today. He brought me much joy, herbal tea, and a 24 pack of Diet Coke. (in addition to sundry healthy munchies) Do I have to explain why he is the favoritist man in my life?

I need a manicure.

When I'm rich and famous I'll have a Coach bag for every day and a Birken bag for all of my medical files.

I'm looking at grad schools. Who's crossing her fingers in hope that the best Audiology school is on the East coast? ME!!!!

I need to go to orchestra. I don't like it when the low brass aren't there. I mean, the French horns are great and all, but when it boils down to it, the violas play the same line, and then lots of extremely technical fillers, but who is asked to stand and bow at the end of the concert? The violas? Noooooooooooooooo, of course not. Only the French Horns. They get all the glory, especially in chamber music. They need the other brass players to steal some of their melodies. And, contrary to popular belief it is a whole, heck of a lot harder to play the viola than the French horn. Don't believe me? I'll fight you for it.

I want to go shopping.

What makes some people popular and others not?

Gotta go......

Afraid?

We've been reading an interesting book in English class. At least, everyone else has be reading it.

I haven't.

I'm not procrastinating.

I'm not lazy.

I'm just not.

My reason is this: the book is written by a homosexual man about homosexuality. It is filled with graphic descriptions of that lifestyle. Descriptions I don't think are necessary for me to read. But as I was sitting in class today watching everyone discuss this book I noticed something.

No one was criticizing the book. We've done that in the past. There's always someone who says, "Ugh! I hated this book!!!" But no one was doing that. Everyone seemed incredibly eager to impress upon everyone else that they didn't think the homosexual lifestyle was bad.

No one I talked to liked the book. But they wouldn't say that. They only said, "Well, it was a little weird." or "Well, I didn't like it," (and then quickly) "but not because of the homosexuality...." (but then they couldn't give me their reason for disliking the book.)

The word "homophobic" was thrown around a lot. If you didn't agree with the book, or didn't like it, you were going to be branded as such- a homophobe.

So here's my question: Is not approving of something being afraid of it?

I don't think so. In my mind it requires a whole lot more bravery to go against the standard and speak what you really think. Every person in that room was sidestepping the issue. Everyone was anxious to impress on everyone else the fact that he or she was not a religious prude. That was the safe route. You didn't get into sticky moral issues of what's right and what's wrong. You didn't have to confront anyone, you didn't have to address any problems. Isn't that more homophobic than saying: "I don't hate you. But I do know that, morally speaking, your lifestyle is wrong. I'm not denying your struggles, I'm not angry or mad. I'm just trying to understand. And while I want you to know that I will never judge you, I also want you to know that I am not going to condone your lifestyle." I think "homophobia" is defined incorrectly.

When you fear something you avoid it. You hide from it. You try to shove it under the covers. And you never want others to see that fear.

People are afraid of saying what is right and wrong. Because when you drag out that issue you have to establish the fact that there IS a moral law and that such a moral law must have a moral law Giver. By acknowledging there is such a being, one immediately becomes aware of one's own lack of adherance to such a code and suddenly eternity, God, and sin become real and present dangers you must confront. It's easier to just ignore it all. To just claim tolerance.

Addressing the issue is being homophobic?

I don't think so....

I knew it....

You are Miss Piggy.You are talented and the center of attention. At
least you'd like to think you are. You're
really just a pig.
FAVORITE EXPRESSIONS:"Moi", "Moi" and
"Moi!"LAST BOOK READ:"Women Who Run With Frogs And The Frogs Who
Better Wise Up Quick"
FAVORITE MOVIE:"To Have and Have More"
DRESS SIZE:If it's expensive, it fits.
BEST FEATURES:Eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, nose, cheeks, hair,
ears, neck, shoulders, arms, elbows, hands,
fingers, legs, knees, ankles, feet, toes and so
on and so forth.
SPECIAL ABILITIES:Singing, Dancing, Directing, Producing, Writing,
Starring, and Being Famous.

What Muppet are you?
brought to you by

What we really talk about....

Ever wondered what girls talk about? Here's a sample....


let's go buy our awesome penthouse in Chicago!
and some great shoes
sounds awesome
and teach and help little kids
and casually date the entire Chicago Bear's offensive line
and go to football games on Saturdays
yup
every last one of them
even the nasty fat guys
sit with the Bulls basketball teamevery game
let's date all of them too
Pick up guys at designer stores and celeb parties.
yup
eat foreign chocolate and travel every summer to Europe and exotic places.
get our names on lists to cocktail parties and mingle comfortable with celebrities
Let's buy our own enormous diamonds and get our hair done by John Freida
Donald Trump will leave his wife for us, but we'll turn him down.
and we will do our hair however we please!!!
we'll eat cheesecake every meal of the day and stay fit because we have a personal trainer that meets with us 6 mornings a week
in our penthouse
yup
in our own gym
with the big windows.
We'll learn how to ballroom dance and go to royal balls in England.
Safaris in Africa
splunking in egypt:-)
then we'll meet with the president and help the 1st lady pick out her china pattern.
After which we will write best-selling books that garner enough money for us to go on a cruise instead of a nursing home the rest of our lives
and we'll thrown enormous halloween costume parties!
every single year!
Big buff guys to guard us as we run every morning down town
we'll buy the apartment next ot us and transform it into a shoe closet
we'll invite little girls over for parties, the poor ones who could never have that kind of fun, we'll rent out an amusment park.
and we'll have a boat
And we'll own 100 pairs of black shoes each- and no one will say "But you already have a pair of black shoes"
Let 's have our own private plane
sounds wonderful
and cooks, maids, and a butler- on special occasions.
A large grandpiano made out of glass...
I've seen one.
and harry winston as our close personal friend
and we'll wear his jewlery as an advertisement
for no cost to us
because we're like his family
yup
he'll beg us to take more diamonds and we'll exclaim, "Harry, darling, we just don't have any more room!"
You will look at every big black basketball player who lays the whole of his multimillion contract at your feet if only you will marry him and say, "Hmmm, you're not big enough or black enough to attract my attention." He won't leave. "Go away. I am not interested." He still won't leave, "Have I not made it clear? I don't want you. Why are you still here?" You will then turn oh so swiftly and smoothly and sail out of the room
YES!!!
yup
but i think i'll keep the rings
from every guy that ever proposes because he'll 'love' me so much he'll want me to keep it
I'll have a convertible
i'll drive my big black mercedes
with a pair of 18" chrome rims
maybe bigger
so in 10 years we can look back at how all of our predictions have come true!
as we are deciding which prada bag to take with us to the grammys!
or which diamond tennis bracelet we will accept from the guys that we are dating
Or which car to take from the BMW dealers who are begging us to be a face for their new ad compaign
no, while we decide where to store ALL of the diamond tennis bracelets that we receive from guys we are dating!!!
That will be wonderful
and then, when we're little old ladies, people will still be nice to us because we'll have so much money...
and we'll sit on the balcony of our exclusive seniors cruise sipping champaige and dancing
WE'LL GO ON CRUISES WHILE WE ARE STILL YOUNG AND DANCE ALL NIGHT WITH STRANGERS THAT WE WILL NEVER SEE AGAIN!
watch out world!
here we come:-)

Of course that's not all of it. If we left it all in you would think we were more shallow, flippant, and selfish than you already do. This conversation did have plans for an African orphanage, though. It was getting a tad long, so I editted it. Hope you enjoted!!!

This is me

Sometimes all I want to say is:

:)


That's today.

I'm happy.

Just thought I should let you all know when I have good moods, since all I write about are my nasty grumpy ones.

We should all have a moment of silence in sympathy of those who have to be involved in my life. Those poor people- one day I'm on cloud nine (going on ten!!!!!), then the next I'm in the Slough of Despond. I think I'm bipolar.... (suuuuuuure)

But here are some of my happy thoughts for today:

God loves me- despite me. I am fascinated by my major and I answered three questions correctly in Anatomy/Physiology. I vaccumed my carpet. I'm wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. My homework tonight consists of reading and writing- my two favorites. I won't eat dinner by myself. Combovers make me smile. The sun is shining. God taught me something new. I'm feeling a little braver. I like to take chances- perhaps I will take a big one soon. I'm eating in a computer lab. I get to sit by Bonnie in Linguistics. I just went to a FABULOUS music concert yesterday- you should have heard the French Horns- and Tchaikovsky is brutal to the string players- tons of work, but no glory.... I spent a day with my family.

Life is good.

This is me:

:)

How are you?

Too Many Questions

Is it okay to want what you want simply because you want it? Is that want wrong? What determines a wrong want? What are wants that some people call wrong and others call right? Are they wrong? Or right? What if you can't make up your mind how much you want something? Do you still really want it if you ache and cry over it one night and want to forget it the next?

What is "like"? Is it different from love? Where do you decide where one ends and the other begins? How do you know if you like someone? How do you know if you like them enough? Or too much? How do you know when it's wrong to like? How do you know who you should like? How do you know if your like is the one that God wants you to like? How do you know if your like likes you the same way that you like them? What's a good basis for a good like? What is a good like?

How do you know what you're supposed to do? Do you do what God wants, like a puppet? Or do you do what you want, and somehow "control" God? Are you doing what pleases God? How do you know if your wants, likes, and desires line up with God's wants, likes and desires He has planned for you?

Is it okay to be afraid?

At what point do you just hold your breath and dive in?

Harriet and The Termites

Harriet's family lived in a wall.

Don't sneer. It's not becoming. Or nice.

A wall may not seem like the most high class place to you, but to mice, well there are only a few better places.

Most mice live holes in the ground. Don't scorn them, feel pity for them. They burn up in the summer and freeze in the winter, and since the majority of these holes are in cornfields, they eat predominantly raw corn kernals.

Then there are the wall mice. They are a smaller group. Rather like the middle class in a third world country. They have a nice, comfortable home, but have to do without some luxeries. Since most of these homes are in the houses and restaurants of humans, the eating is very good, although somewhat frantic and the fear of being exterminated is always present.

Lastly, there are the "house" mice. These occupy dollhouses and specially styled china figurines or decorative bird houses. These mice have more comfort than the wall mice simply because everything is built to their size. Their homes are veritable palatial residences.

Harriet was a wall mouse.

She was not bitter. This was her life. And, aside from getting her fur ruffled by an occasional frantic dash for food, she didn't mind the inconveniences.

That is.... until THEY came.

Humans are a little slow. Sometimes stupid. Mice know this. Mice can live for generations in a wall (if they are careful) without humans ever having a clue. It all works out so splendidly. One species is stupid, the other is intelligent, so they comfortably cohabitate. Don't laugh. It's a fairly normal set up. Why do you think marriage works?

However, THEY are not quite so smart.

THEY are termites.

THEY are not subtle.

THEY are sneaky, slimey gross little parasites that let EVERYONE know that THEY are there.

And one day, THEY moved in.

(To be continued....)

Tears

Every tear is a part of my heart.

Every tear is question, "why?"

Every tear throbs and breaks.

Every tear is laden with pain.

*********

Every tear is an opportunity to change.

Every tear teaches me to wait.

Every tear makes me fall to my knees.

Every tear is a cry, "Abba, Father."

Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you. For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the LORD in the land of the living.

Psalm 116:7-9

Harriet

"Harriet."

She said it again.

"Harriet." Twirling her whiskers she added a deep trill to it.

"Harriet." Next she made it climb like an ascending scale.

"Harriet!"

Harriet was a mouse. I should say "Harriet IS a mouse" because she's still alive and thriving. Today she was particularly thriving. Standing in front of a little chip of mirror she was rotating to see all of herself. And, it must be admittied, it was a fine thing to look at. She had the glossiest coat- all brown and satiny. While her little brothers and sisters were out scrounging for extra crumbs, Harriet preferred to comb her silky fur. The eyes that looked back at her in the mirror were large and brown with little golden threads sparkling here or there. And her whiskers were of the appropriate droop and length. In short, she was about as attractive as little mice come. Very nice.

However, as she stood before the mirror today, Harriet was not happy. No. Not at all.

"It's no use." She exhaled noisily and sank to the ground so all that could be seen in the mirror were the tips of her tiny velvet ears. "It's no use at all. I'll never have it. Aunty Marge is right. Some people are born with it. Some aren't. I must be an aren't."

Aunty Marge was a mouse who had travelled, and had seen the world! Her life had been one enormous adventure after another. But we're not talking about her. This is not her story. This is Harriet's. Aunt Marge just kind of starts it.

Harriet had been listening in on and adult conversation last night, and while listening she had heard Aunt Marge say, "There's this flare, this sparkle which sets some of us apart. Which destines us for greatness. An inner fire that makes us dare and do... and LIVE!" (Harriet's parents laughed) But Harriet thought it sounded wonderful. Ah! to live such a life! Her eyelashes flickered in nervousness just thinking about it.

When she woke up this morning, Harriet had immediately jumped out of bed. From the time she got up until midmorning when she sat down in front of the mirror chip, she had been practicing being a sparkle. She had brushed her fur to its highest gloss. She had waxed her whiskers so they drooped just right. And then she began to practive being "destined for greatness."

She decided that entrances and first impressions are extremely important. So she practiced moving down the stairs in her house with grace and poise. Now, it must be explained that however glossy her fur was and however perfect her whiskers, Harriet had a problem with balance. Harriet had a problem with coordination. In all reality, I suppose you can't have a problem with something that you don't have, but Harriet did. She was clumsy. And after falling down the stairs four times, sliding down them two times, and stubbing her paws eleven times, she decided that she had just better hope that when her time to sparkle came- there would be no stairs involved.

Next was culturing herself. She figured that if she was going to go out and live in the world, she had better know what was going on, so that she could present a very concise, educated, knowledgeable view on a broad range of subjects. Aunt Marge could do this, and (it was rumored) Aunt Marge had stood before kings. Harriet wanted to stand before kings. So she went to her library. Unfortunately her family was fond of books. The only reading material they had was stripped away from an outside of a cereal box because her mother wanted to know what was in the cereal since her little brother was allergic to whey. (There was no whey in this cereal.) But Harriet dutifully memorized all the ingredients on the box, because you never knew when a king would suddenly have the urge to know exactly what was in his Frosted Flakes.

Then she had gone to the mirror. She wanted people to be impressed with her. And, since she couldn't enter a room gracefully, she decided that the next best thing would be to do introductions really well. So, she practiced saying her name (in a way that would inspire devotion, respect, awe, love, etc.). In all honesty she practiced a lot. But she couldn't seem to get it just right.

Quietly, shoulders humped, with her eyes glazed over looking at the ground, Harriet sat there drawing circles in the dust with her toes.

"It's no good. I wasn't born for greatness. I'll never have adventures. It's just not in me. I must be a sparkle-less mouse. I did so want to be great...."

Hunched over and discouraged, Harriet had no idea what was coming.

(The Adventures of Harriet.... to be continued.)

Always

crying.
sobbing.
curled up in a ball.
aching.
pain.
grief.
despair.
lonely.

My heart is torn.
My eyes can't cry.
My emotions are battered.
Somewhere under all those tears my happiness lies drowned.

A vapor. Here today, gone tomorrow.

Cold.
Numb.
Smiling blankly.
Nodding politely.
Murmuring "thank you."
What do I say?

Death forces you to face phobias. To confront fears. To learn. I'm scared of death. Not of my own death, but the deaths of others. I know I will see them again. I realize they are happy. I know the angels are singing. I know they are praising God. I know human language cannot encompass the joy and peace they have.....

But what about me?

You will die. He will die. My mom. My dad. My brothers. My sister. My friends. They will die.

And what if I am left? What if I'm alone? What if everything I've ever learned to love is torn away leaving me raw, unsheltered..... alone?

"Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."

Never alone.
Never alone.
I am NEVER alone.

"You, O God, are my loving God."

Love. He always loves.
Love will never be gone.

"One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard; that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving."

Always protected. Always surrounded.
Always sheltered.

"Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. My sould clings to you; your right hand upholds me."

Song is not gone. Joy is not destroyed.
He holds me up. GOD carries me.
Let my heart rejoice.

"Oh the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgements, and his paths beyond tracing out!"

God. Knows. Best.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

I am never alone. I am never unloved. I am never joyless.

Life has been planned. By God.

God is so good.
God is so good.
God is so good.
He's so good to me.