The eye-candy blog

I have to get this off my chest. Its been turning around and stirring inside me for a while and I'm ready to let it out.

Twilight fans are to be pitied for their delusions. They are not deluded because the forbidden romance is an overworked plot line, nor because said romance is with a vampire, also a tired element. Its not even because of the Romeo-and-Juliet-esque element of vampire families fighting amongst each other and involving humans, sacrificial love, and werewolf families (already a great story called Underworld). Can we all just make this simple and agree that the plot is overdone and worn out so that I can move on to the point?

Twilight fans, poor creatures, have been tricked into believing that Robert Pattinson is hot.

Even with stage make-up, Robert Pattinson does not hold a candle to anyone in the hotness department. His character is not even hot. His character is a whiny vampire (who sparkles in the sunlight!) who can't decide whether to eat his prey or have sex with her, so he resorts to the next-best option of stalking. Vampires throughout literature have been faced with this tough decision, but none have harped on it so annoyingly.

Feel free to compare and contrast:

Sulky vampire with greasy hair. He didn't even bother to comb, wash his hair, or shave. His eyebrows need plucking, and he doesn't look mean or menacing, he just looks like a teenager whose mother is about to wash behind his ears.


Even when he is not his vampire character, he doesn't bother to shave or take care of his hair.


Compare that with these:

Granted, this actor let himself go and now he has more hair above the shoulders than Robert Pattinson has on his body. But when he was actually in character as the romantic lead, he proved that a character can be flawed and still hot, and no one wondered what on earth was wrong with the girl for liking him, despite being strung-out-on-drugs, losing a career, and being arrested in Mexico.


Ok the actor is good looking, and throughout this series, his character cleans up well, protects others, and puts faith in the female lead as an equal in the fighting arena. But I really just put this picture in here because his talking car is beautiful and has Val Kilmer's voice.


Wears a suit, is clean-shaven, has short hair and no eyebrows, although that could be because this character is always blowing things up. Also a good leader and like Mike above, trusts the female lead to fight at his side rather than screaming and fainting.


And of course, this blog isn't complete without a photo of a real vampire, who was so bad and scary they had to lock him up, yet still had tremendous appeal as a romantic lead. Notice he is clean-shaven, and is not as gaunt as Twilight's whiny sparkly vampires.


Alright, I'll admit, dissing Twilight is really just an excuse for me to Google ridiculously good-looking actors, none of whom appear in the Twilight movies.

But in reality there has been something bothering me. I have begun to feel lately that Hollywood is lying to humanity about relationships. People in the movies have love at first sight, humorous but slightly embarrassing relatives, a snag in the relationship that is conquered by true love, and a happy ending to every story. If I asked 100 people to name the first movie that popped into their heads that fits all those elements, I would have 100 different answers. But if I asked those same people to tell me a true story that actually happened that fits those plot elements, I may get one story in response.

However, if I were to ask those 100 people if they would like to date someone who, when faced with any tough decision, choose to pout and whine about the decision, sit in a corner for a while, and take emotional cues from James Dean, the answer would be no, no, a hundred thousand times no. Unless he also sings like James Dean, which to my knowledge, Robert Pattinson's character does not.

This type of reaction to conflict is not mature. Why on earth Hollywood is trying to teach us that we should try and date immature men is beyond me. Additionally, the Twilight series teaches young girls a number of misconceptions: 1) True love can be found in high school in a matter of days. 2) If you believe it is true love, then even if he dumps you, he's destined to get back together with you regardless of any other potential suitors in your life. 3) You will never have to choose between your true love who dumped you and the far better options in your life; you can have your cake and eat it too, and they will both be ok with that.

For a somewhat more hilarious take on the Twilight story, please see this article, which exposes some of the male-chauvinist concepts presented by the story's elements:
http://www.cracked.com/funny-36-twilight/ <- LANGUAGE AND GORE WARNING

For a look at what happens when you put a sparkly vampire into a tough neighborhood where women actually have backbones and know what to do with a stalker vampire, please check out this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZwM3GvaTRM

Not only does the video expose just how wrong it is to stalk someone, but it shows that no one can surpass Joss Whedon's vampire world. Bram Stoker invented vampires, Anne Rice made them relevant, Joss Whedon made them awesome, and all later vampire stories are an attempt to destroy a great genre.

Romance

I have been thinking a bit about my life, and my goals, and my plans for the future. I've discovered I have very few plans for the future (keep in mind, plans are different from wants). In actuality, I have always lived my life expecting that at any moment, God could say, "My plan for you is that you be in XYZ location, doing UVW." And that at any moment, God could move me somewhere else. Not because I believe that God is fickle and prone to the random uprooting of his subjects, but because I believe that God's plan is greater than anything I could dream up, and the intricacies of being in the right place at the right time are beyond my capabilities.

Is this an indication of complete trust in God? Maybe. Its also possible that I simply dislike decisions and it is easier to want something than to try and figure out how to get to it. In relationships, I have been trying to figure out my plans and wants. I'm not even sure what I want anymore.

When I was 16, I began an intimate romance with the Lord. I suppose all teenagers have the same perceptions of love; this one was just like any teenage romance: love notes and flowers and pink happy clouds and living in a bubble. After a while, I actually got sick of it, like a kid with too much Halloween candy. I asked God to stop romancing me, I couldn't take the saccharine-sweet feeling of all those happy clouds.

If this all sounds weird, I suppose you could say it was like the story of the Israelites who wanted a king. God said, "No, I am your King" but all their neighbors had kings and the Israelites wanted one too, so God gave them one. God gave me what I wanted.

Lots of stuff happened between me and God after that, ups and downs that have no bearing on the story I'm telling at present. What I'm getting at is that back then, when I was 16, God taught me what to look for in a guy by being my first love himself. What I got was a guy who wrote me poems, brought me flowers and gifts, and could not find an end to his expressions of love for me. Which was a great thing to have for a first romance (earthly romance). But I am not a teenager anymore, and I have changed a LOT these past ten years.

I need God to romance me again, to teach me what to look for now in a man, because what I need now will be different from what I needed at 16. To tie this into my previous post, I believe this will make me a whole, complete individual that I can someday, if the circumstances are right, attach myself to another whole, complete individual (or not, it doesn't matter as long as I find wholeness in God).

Yes, this is all stemming from a sermon I heard, but these are my own thoughts, not the pastor's. And God has already begun his work. : )

Out with it

I haven't been specific about the details of my life on here lately. To be honest, the details don't matter too much anymore. Well, I guess they do but they are sort of in the past, so I don't feel the need to share them. What I guess is more important to share here is that after more than 4 years, I am single again, but it was a "lose a boyfriend, gain a friend" kind of a situation. Will this affect my ability to date in the future? I don't know. Do I care? Not much. I have discovered I really like being single. Is that statement a coping mechanism? Maybe.

Someone recently pointed out to me that it is in my nature to rebel against the way things are. When people expect a certain thing from me, I head in the opposite direction. Mom is anxious for grandkids, so I have a mental block against children, and when we are out in public together, I don't even see them. In the grocery store, mom started cooing over a baby, which I didn't even notice until I heard her baby-talk, despite the kid being strapped face-out and eye-level on his mother's front. Does this mean I would want kids if my mom didn't obsess over them? I don't think so. But I do think that some part of me revels in antagonizing the situation.

While in Michigan, I rediscovered what it is like to be surrounded by a strict Baptist community. I went to a Baptist school when I was younger, and a Baptist church, so I was no stranger to it, but it has been years since I have been so immersed in that culture. Yes, it is a completely different culture.

I like wearing skirts, and I brought 6 with me when I was packing for my trip. But on the day I knew I would be surrounded by skirt-wearing, God-filled, Bible-believing Christians who have very much the same beliefs as I do, I felt compelled to provide an unspoken reminder to myself of the things on which I differ from them. I do not feel it is ungodly for women to wear pants, and on that day, no abyss-dwelling monster could have convinced me to put on a skirt. It sounds like a silly little thing, but I find I sometimes rebel against the way things are. I support things I wouldn’t normally support, only because I want to present a different opinion to the world.

So when a handful of people began suggesting eligible men I could date, and when a handful of others suggested that maybe I'll get back together with him, am I being a rebel, or trying to antagonize them by enjoying my singlehood? I have had the thought that so many people expect to find their other half, that perfect match, and many do. But why go through life incomplete until that person arrives? Why is an unmarried person seen as incomplete and needing "remedy"? Its possible to go through life unmatched and alone and happy, and in some ways, I think I want to prove that to the world.

Honestly, I am a bit tired of it all. I am excited to be able to live for me, and make choices without having to think about how it might affect "our" relationship or "our" future. Above all, I don't believe in finding your other half. I think people should be whole, complete individuals who don't have to be attached to someone else to be complete, but are free to choose that if the situation arises. But could this be my way of telling myself the situation is better this way? Like the person who doesn't get into the school they applied for and finds consolation by saying the school was too expensive anyway, or too far away anyway.

My brain is a tricky thing to figure out; good luck to the next guy who tries. I haven't figured it out yet, myself.

East Jordan living

Once upon a time, there was a blogger named Meg whose blogspot grew cobwebs. The fans look forward to her return. The end.

When I received the above message, I figured its about time I start thinking about a new blog topic. I have been in Michigan for most of August. My grandfather goes to dialysis three times a week and every once in a while my aunts and uncles need a break from checking in on my grandparents. So, my mom and I went out there to help out and visit, but we did plan for a few exciting things as well, like getting our Christmas shopping done, haha.

East Jordan is the small town where my grandparents live, and if you imagine the caricature "small town" from any movie or novel, that would be East Jordan. A group of family members came to visit, so we all went out for dinner to a place called The Lumberjack. During the course of the meal, three people came in the door and shook my grandfather's hand ("Hey Charlie, how's it going??"), and two more at the bar were old friends of the out-of-towners at our table. East Jordan is a place where everyone knows everyone.

When my grandmother went to town to get her hair cut, I tagged along. I wandered down Main Street, window shopping. The clothing store was closed. I wasn't hungry, so that eliminated the bakery, The Lumberjack, the soda shop, and Murphey's Tavern. I passed up the auto parts store, and went into the antique shop, The Busy Bridge, where purchases are discounted if you are related to so-and-so. When I finished there, that was the end. Thats pretty much all that is on Main Street. Oh, and Bruce the Barber.

The barbershop looks like Bruce opened it in 1939 and has never closed it for renovations or upgrades. I went in to ask a question about straight razors. Bruce pulled one out, taught me how to tell whether its ready to be used or not, and proceeded to shave his arm to prove its worth. He got to asking me where I was from and why I was here, and who I was visiting.

"You're the S_____s' granddaughter? Oh, thats wonderful, they are nice people. Here, look at my photos, you'll like them."

There was one of him putting flags on veteran's graves, one declaring him a kidney-removal survivor, and one of his barbershop, framed and signed by my mom's cousin Rick. Talk shifted to my personal life, and he came out with this gem:

"Don't feel too bad that you've spent four years waiting for him. I bought a ring for my girl, and I put it on the friendship finger- you know, the opposite one- and so, I've been engaged for 24 years!" Here he leaned in as if to tell me a secret. "I go to her house for dinner- I always leave by 9:00 you know- but most of the time, I'm ready to leave before that!"

Before I left, I had to sign his guestbook, get a pin, two pieces of bubble gum, and a hug. A few days later my grandfather went in for a haircut and Bruce proudly showed him my name in the guestbook.

My grandparents always have neighbors dropping in to say hi. A visit to their house usually leaves me dizzy trying to remember the names and faces of people I've seen there. The most colorful people are the ones who've been friends with the S_____s for more than 30 years. I hope when I am older, I will be friends with people I've known more than 30 years. Relationships like that seem to make life more exciting.

One of the neighbors went out with us one day, and our trip took a bit longer than expected. He said, "Oh no, I'm late!" Mom was afraid maybe our delays had caused him to keep someone waiting or miss a meeting of some sort, and responded appropriately. He waved her off. "I was supposed to start drinking 45 minutes ago!"

And the last little anecdote I'll share in this post is simply a quote. "There was a family in town by the name of Cole. Well, one of the Slough family married a Cole, so they had a Cole-Slough wedding. True story."

That's colorful East Jordan in a nutshell.

A deathnote

Dear Friends:

It is with sadness that I reflect on your passing in this letter. Whether you were in the street mourning your dead mother, or eating your fallen comrade for a midnight snack as adolescent raccoons may be known to do, I am not sure. The fact is, you were too small to move the body to the side of the road, and so, you were forced to place yourselves in danger.

I successfully avoided hitting you on my northbound trip, however my southbound trip put you at the invisible-til-the-last-moment side of a blind curve. Your ability to space yourselves exactly the same distance apart as the length of my car's wheel axel is impressive. You should work for Toyota. The mailbox and my side-mirror are fine, thanks for asking.

I am also compelled to apologize profusely for treating your bodies so irreverently. I did not have a shovel or stick with which to remove your bodies from the road, so I was compelled to kick you. It was my belief that the dishonor of being kicked was less than the dishonor of having your insides strewn all over the road. Had I a shovel, I would have given your mother's body the same treatment, however late in coming that action may have been.

I would also like to thank you for surrendering your lives so quickly. Lacking a shovel, I would have been forced to let you suffer had you not died immediately, or wrung your necks with my bare hands, which would not have been pleasant or safe for me.

I regret to inform you that you have died in vain. As it was not a clean kill, I am unable to use your meat in Uncle Jeb's Coon Soup recipe, nor do I possess the knowledge to adequately clean a fresh kill for human consumption. However, you may console yourselves that your death is approved by Darwin. As you are not yet old enough to reproduce, with a single screech of the tires, I have done my part in the efforts to remove the road-crossing gene from your genetic code.

Best wishes in your journey to that great garbage bin in the sky,
~Arwen

Grammar Lesson of the Day

1. You cannot be sadden to hear of someone's passing. Sadden is a transitive verb infinitive meaning "to make sad." I sadden you, you sadden me, we sadden each other, it saddens us/me/you, they sadden us/me/you. If you insist on putting one of the forms of "to be" in front of it (am, is, are, was, were, etc) then you must change it to saddened. "I am saddened to hear of his passing." However, in the intransitive verb form of sadden, I can say "I sadden at the news of his passing." Note that I had to remove both the direct object and the "am" from the sentence.

2. "John, you really have picked my interest," OR, "John, you really have peaked my interest." In the first example, John has chosen your interest. That makes him quite a dictator. In the second example, the verb "peaked" is used in an unusual way because peaked is a verb that is commonly done by inanimate objects, like "the line on the charts peaked at 45." However, assuming that John really has peaked my interest, this means that he has caused my interest to reach its limit and now, it is waning. The correct word is piqued, from a French word meaning "to irritate, arouse, or stimulate."

3. I've said it before; I'll say it again. Your, you're, their, they're, there, to, too, and two all have specific times and places to be used. Your cat has wandered over to where you're sitting. Their cat has wandered over there, to where they're sitting. The two dogs have wandered to that place too.

4. Who and whom. Putting "whom" in a sentence does not automatically guarantee you will look smart. You have to put it in the right place or you just sound stupid and pretentious. "Who" is used as the subject of a sentence. A question is an interrogative sentence. So, "Who ate all the cake?" and "Whoever ate all the cake is in trouble" are both correct. "Whom" is used as an object of a verb or preposition. "I will award whomever finds the cake-eater," and "To whom shall I award this cake-eater-finder prize?" are correct. Just because you want to place who/whom in the latter part of a sentence does not mean it is correct to choose "whom." To say, "John discovered it was the dog whom ate the cake" is incorrect because "whom" is doing the action of the verb "ate." To make it simple, take "who" or "whom" out and replace it with "he" or "him." If "he" works, then use "who." If "him" works, then use "whom."

5. "Maybe" means "perhaps." "May be" means "might exist." "Apart" means "separated" and "a part" means "something incomplete that is joined to a whole." "A lot" means "much." "Alot" is a mythological creature that looks like a cross between a yak, a bear and a pug.

I think that's all for now.

Feeling brave

Normally, I write personal stuff here in my blog, because only my closest friends have access to it. But tonight I'm feeling a little braver and decided to open this up to my 300+ friends and acquaintances on Facebook, as well as blogger. I am interested to know what everyone thinks of this.

What is a soul mate? Wikipedia says a soulmate is "a person with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, love, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality, and/or compatibility." The article goes on to discuss the ancient Greek myth that all humans were once constructed of two faces, four arms, and four legs. When they became too powerful, the gods split them in half, becoming one face, two arms, and two legs each. These new creatures ran around, perpetually looking for their other half.

I recently read about an ancient Native American belief about soul mates, which is the inspiration for this post. It was believed that every person has a soul mate. However, not every person is destined to meet that soul mate. Sometimes, a person will meet their soul mate, but it will be at the wrong time. For instance, if a person meets their soul mate when the two are still children, they will not comprehend the significance of what has happened. Or, if a person meets their soul mate after they are married to another person. According to this belief, only a small amount of very lucky people will actually marry their soul mate.

Some say there is no such thing as luck, that things are God-ordained or predestined or dictated by karma. I read a study once that suggested that those who feel "lucky" were actually more acutely aware of their surroundings than those who would describe themselves as "unlucky." I think that in some ways this ties into the Native American belief about soul mates. If you are "lucky" you are more aware of your relationships and are more capable of correctly identifying a soul mate.

But it also raises questions. If you believe you've met your soul mate, but are not capable of spending your life with that person, what then? Do you wait for the right time? What if the right time has already passed? If only a small percentage of people ever end up marrying their soul mate, what is the purpose of a soul mate? Why do they exist if so many of them never find completion? Does this mean that the Native Americans were wrong and that perhaps not everyone has a soul mate?

I have so many questions about things like this these days.

Not all here...

When I was 17, a boy called me up on the phone to chat. We chatted for four hours and as it turns out, he was trying the entire time to work up the nerve to ask me out. I asked him for some time to sort out my feelings because (I didn't tell him this part) I honestly had not expected that anyone could possibly develop feelings for me. It had not occurred to me that any number of the guys in my life could have shared his feelings, but not worked up the courage to ask me out.

The next day, I was supposed to get some schoolwork done, but could not. My focus was on one thing the entire day, and as I went through my day, my stomach did flip flops with the intensity, excitement, and nervousness of the whole thing, specifically, the unknown of: what was I going to tell him?

With the exception of a few adrenaline-filled seconds here and there over the years (roller coasters, NJ drivers, cats appearing out of the dark in a place they don't belong), I have not felt that feeling in the eight years since that first boy asked me out.

Tonight, I was overwhelmed for more than an hour by that very butterfly flip-flop feeling. This was followed by an internal monologue that translated everything my mother said to me into, "She's calling you (fill in blank: fat, plain, ugly, tacky, slutty) and cutting you down."

This was followed by an extreme allergic reaction to who knows what which resulted in an actual commercial medicine (no herbals), which so far has not cleared me up, its only made me loopy enough to contemplate mixing meds by taking something stronger.

I am having a draining day-evening-early morning, I suppose. In deep ethereal thought, I wonder exactly what Rod Stewart meant when he sang, "If I gave you time to change my mind I´d try to leave all the past behind Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried Still I look to find a reason to believe // Someone like you makes it easy to live without somebody else Someone like you makes it hard to give never think about myself..." It seems it is a good thing the person lied. Odd.

Video Games

My brother's latest thing is Guitar Hero World Tour, which is compatible with all the other Guitar Heroes as well as Rock Band.

Dad's response to this was: "And I thought we got through the teenage years without bringing a drum set into the house."

Mom came into the room, looked at the screen, and made a comment about the video game characters' clothing and hairstyle. Dan replied, "All bands have to dress funny, its how they stand out. Name one major band that really made it without absurd costuming."

I was on the drums at the time, and without missing a beat, I said, "Kiss!"

Typo

On Monday, my family went out to eat at the Valley View Pub, a local favorite. It seems the menu was also made by locals. In the "Entree" section, we discovered we could get a Chicken Franchise for $13.99. We could not decide whether Chik-fil-A or KFC would be the better choice.

Locked out

A friend of mine posted a story on his blog about locking the keys in the car. It was well timed, because last Friday, I locked myself out of the car. I clipped my keys to my purse, got out, locked the door and swung it shut. As I turned and the door was moving I had this funny sensation that my keys were not actually clipped to my purse. It was a "Nooooooooo-slam!" moment and the keys were on the seat inside the car. So, I got a screwdriver from my uncle's workbench and took off the front license plate, but the spare key was not there. So I went to the back plate, thinking maybe someone had moved it to there but the screws were rusted on. After a phone call for some muscular assistance and a lot of WD-40, we finally pried the plate up enough to see that there was no key under it. Apparently, there is a spare key to my car on everybody else's keyring (Mom, Dad, and brother) but not under my license plate. Woohoo.

Pork, commencement, and fortune cookies

I was at a barbecue the other day and asked what type of meat was on my kebab. On learning that it was not pork, I ate it. My Jewish friend was impressed that I don't eat pork, and I had to tell him that I don't do it religiously, it is just that I don't care much for pork. Occasionally, a smoked ham is excellent, or sometimes when I need protein I will throw some bacon bits on my salad. But I am usually enjoying the flavor of something other than pork, like the smoking process for example.

But yesterday after my brother's graduation, we went to Harvest Moon in New Brunswick, and I really could not resist the barbecue pulled pork sandwich. Even today as I eat the leftovers, I am marveling at the taste of it. Wow.

And now I feel bad that I have a blog entry about a pulled pork sandwich and not about the 2010 commencement of the School of Engineering. But my brother puts it succinctly: "...the student speaker quoted Miley Cyrus's twitter page, and in that moment I wanted to not be graduating with her. I then looked up to the ceiling in hopes that the stadium would collapse in an ironic engineering disaster, smiting all of us for allowing such an atrocity to occur." Well, at least that speaker will be remembered in some way.

Also interesting is the perplexing omission of the Pomp and Circumstance processional. Instead, the students walked in to the inspiring sounds of the Olympic theme song. There was no explanation however, I am wondering if perhaps one of the numerous overachievers in the student body might have been an Olympian.

It is hard to believe that I graduated four years ago. My commencement speaker was Randall Pinkett, a winner of Donald Trump's show The Apprentice. It may or may not be a cliched address, but he pointed out that commencement in most people's eyes means school is done for the summer, unless you are graduating and then it means it is done, period. But that is not what the term actually means. To commence means to begin, and commencement is about the beginning of something new in your life. In a sense, it echoed the themes I'd been learning about in jujitsu. People not learning jujitsu see a black belt and think that he must have mastered the art of jujitsu. But in jujitsu, the first degree black belts are not masters. They reach black belt and suddenly none of their techniques are good enough. They have reached the end, in the sense that they have learned the techniques, yet they are students again, because they need to begin to practice and apply them in ways appropriate to their maturity.

I think in the end it all boils down to perspective. The end and the beginning can look the same based on where you are standing. And that is something I still need to remember. That even though I have completed one form of schooling, I can never stop learning. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel that my commencement speaker was so life changing that I wake up every morning thanking my lucky stars that I heard Randall Pinkett speak. But I think that the words he spoke to my class was something my generation needs to hear- to keep on moving forward even when you think you've arrived.

And that all boils down into a single sentence that came to me by way of a fortune cookie. "No one is standing in your way anymore, it is time to move forward." It all just goes to show that graduation ceremonies would be much shorter if the planners would just eat more Chinese food.

Cooking advice

1 can of vegetable broth + 1 can of beef broth = 2 cans of chicken broth

Dining on Mars?

I found this amusing description of a restaurant in NYC:

"An intergalactic shuttle transports guests to the Red Planet for an extraterrestrial, culinary experience they will never forget. [...] Just before your dining experience begins, you must carefully navigate the Rock Fissure Corridor by stepping across a translucent bridge of pontoons floating over molten lava. Once you are safely across, a Cyberguide escorts you to your designated seat on Mars. The Crystal Crater boasts a three-story crystal tree, covered by a glass canopy that affords a spectacular view of the Martian heavens and the Earth beyond. To dine at the Crater's Edge, you must cautiously make your way downstairs, past a steaming Blue Lava Fountain. A 300-square-foot "Window to Mars" displays a colorful combination of elements, offering majestic views of the Martian landscape. A gracious and engaging Cratermaster, our Ambassador of Good Cheer and Levity, choreographs your Epicurean adventure from this point on. Guests are also delighted by occasional interaction with prominent members of local Martian society. By nature, Martians are friendly and gregarious, and their superb hospitality is a hallmark of the Modern Martian Society..."

After reading that, I feel I should either go there, or watch Alice in Wonderland. Not sure which.

Spring Photos

Spring screws around with circadian rhythm. This was a 7 AM photo, after a night of trying to sleep. Jack was also acting weird. He's never decided to sit on top of my monitor before.


I think these are called Phlox.


The bulbs I planted last fall have become some unique variation on a daffodil.


I believe this is called a composite daffodil.


Hyacinth. As pretty as it is, its probably directly responsible for allergy season. Its scent is extremely heavy.


A pink centered daffodil-narcissus thing.


More daffodil variations.


There's a reason the family name for these is Narcissus. They are absolutely perfect.

I've Been

As the mute screams of the broken hearted
Muffle the words of the faithful lover
And the emotional arthritis warns
Of a coming storm,
She sits and stares, seeing nothing
And comes prepared for an empty cornfield
But finds only ancient scrolls
Reminding her she is not the first to feel.

An empty life, a dream remains a dream,
A scattered scrapbook in a box under the bed,
An uprooted tree for the third time,
Digging dirt to find the liquid in the deep
Is an ulterior motive to spiritual gain.

The tears are shadows deep behind the eyes;
Somewhere near the pineal gland
They gather their forces
And march a rhythm with the heart
Blowing in with the east wind
Over the parched ground and the broken stalks of corn
And silently, silently, they come.

response to recent news

I had a chat with a friend the other day about a group of people who recently have been promoting false ideas about God. God does not hate people based on their race, religion, or lifestyle preferences. However, there IS such a thing as sin, and sin creates separation from God.

Think of it like this. Your 5 year-old daughter has been cranky all day. She wouldn't get into the car seat when you needed to get your errands done, she refused to get dressed in the clothes you picked out for her, and now, you are telling her to pick up her toys and put them away, but she is screaming that she won't do it. So you take her to the corner and put her in her time-out chair, partly because she's being disobedient, and partly because you need a break yourself. At no time did you stop loving her, but her disobedience created a necessary distance between you.

This is like a relationship with God. He will never hate a whole country, or a religious system, or any kind of sinner. But there ARE consequences to sin, even though the love is still there. This also answers the classic question, "how can a loving God send people to hell?" My answer is that he doesn't. Separation from God happens because people make that choice.

And thats what I think about that.

love stories

This may be a long story, but here goes. Several years ago, I created a Myspace account. A musician, S, was seeking followers and requested a "friend" status; I accepted. I discovered his music was awesome and we had about 3 conversations regarding it. That was it, I never really talked to him after that. But through post updates, I learned a lot about him and his family and their spirituality.

His sister, R, "met" God on a rock in Ireland and God taught her that she should rely on him for support and be happy in singleness until the day he provided her with a husband. Years later, she wanted a sign that the young man in her life was the one God was providing. God showed the man how to give her the sign, and also told him to propose to her on that rock.

Another young woman, J, "met" God on a beach in Israel, and God taught her roughly the same thing that he'd said to R. Some time later, a woman felt God was telling her to paint a picture for J. The picture featured J on that beach with her hands flung up in the air in pure joy, as if she had just experienced the happiest day of her life. Later, she met S and he spoke with her parents, telling them about where he'd like to propose and would that be ok. Her parents said they'd been praying he would propose in that spot and he had about 3 months to plan it (because that was when she'd be there again). It turns out, he proposed on that beach in Israel.

When I learned of R's story, I thought, "Wow, that is a great story and a wonderfully romantic one. People will delight to hear the story of their romance." When I learned that R's brother had a nearly identical experience, I thought, "R's story isn't unique?? Does this kind of thing happen all the time and I've somehow missed it?"

S posted his wedding video, which I think revealed a huge part of the story. S and R are a part of a close-knit group of people who have an extreme and radical love for God. They are passionate worshipers who do not care if others find their worship styles "weird." So in a sense, it is a nature vs nurture scenario- S and R were raised to expect God to be an integral part of their lives, including their love stories.

After learning of the stories, I had a sort of longing for a story of my own. I don't know how my life will pan out, but when I'm old, I would love to have a love story that makes people say, "Aww" when they hear it. Don't jump to conclusions about my current relationship though- we never know what kind of story we are in while it is happening. It is only afterward that we can look back and see the big picture. Even the disciples of Jesus experienced this.

But when I examine my life, I find several things.

1. I do not have a place where I "met" with God. Yes, I know God personally, I have a relationship with him as my caring and protecting Father. But the supernatural events that those girls experienced in their meeting places have not happened for me, nor do I expect them to. I have a B.A. in theater; I am quite jaded by flashy theatrics. I would be incredibly honored and blessed if God just "showed up" one day in a heavy cloud and a flash of lightning, or even if he told a painter to paint a picture of me that only I had knowledge of. But because of my background, I don't think that is what would capture my heart the most, and I think he knows that and would choose to meet with me in some other way. My secret place when I spend the most time talking to God happens in the shower and I am quite certain I don't want anyone proposing to me there.

2. I do not have the same passionate excitement about worship. I worship God, I pray to God, I sing to God. But I do not do it like a child with ADHD on Halloween. I am subtle, I am peaceful and serene. In some ways I feel that this may somehow cheat God, that I am not as excited about being with him as other people are.

3. I was raised to understand that not everyone loves or worships God. There are people out there who have chosen different beliefs and want to practice different things. They want a life without God in it. In living my life and interacting with those people, the spirit of God in me brings God into their life, but in the same instance, their life-without-God is brought into my life. That sounds like an Asian or Hawaiian philosophy but I guess what I mean is we don't live in bubbles. Things drag us away from our goals whether we know it or not. God is very important to me, but he is not as integral a part of my life as the group S and R (and spouses) are a part of.

It is interesting to note that in my observations, I do not mention "finding a romantic boyfriend." While I think it is important for a guy to be able to hear from God from time to time, and have moments of inspiration that put him on a higher romantic level than a caveman, I think that the most important part to finding the perfect mate for me is being who I am supposed to be in the first place.

I will conclude with another love story. A was lonely and wanted a boyfriend. She was not content to wait for God to bring one into her life, so she did some things that may have indicated her impatience. After struggling and being hurt by the complexities of it all, she began to focus on her own relationship with God instead of a relationship with a guy. She let God fix some areas of her life, and quite suddenly, in Anne of Green Gables style, the Gilbert in her life stopped fighting with her, they both realized mutual feelings of attraction, and are now following the path that they believe leads to marriage. (If Anne of Green Gables is too modern for your tastes, try Pride & Prejudice and read that as "the Mr. Darcy in her life stopped...")

The biggest thing that could be impressed on me is that an "aww" love story comes from ME being who I am meant to be, not from someone else being imaginative and romantic. Now how do I become ME?

Religion, Philosophy, Spirituality

Having a conversation with a friend, I realized I have my own philosophy on life that, although it does not contradict the teachings of my chosen denomination, is really uniquely ME. I'm not claiming I have some big spiritual revelation that will one day be taught as supplemental commentary or anything. Just that I like to think for myself.

1. I see no need to capitalize names of deities. Or names of my friends, or cities, or any proper noun. in current culture when people write without punctuation and capitalization it is viewed as being less stuffy and proper and more like the average person out there. you are more informal, more on the same level with someone. it is like you are sitting in their living room with a cup of tea and no one cares if you don't have the right punctuation. it is not like you are writing a dissertation, its just a cup of tea in a living room. when talking about god or jesus people know who you are talking about without capitalization. one could argue that capitalization indicates honor and your level of respect, but i would argue that it really isn't much of an honor to capitalize a name. ooh i just hit the shift key so your name would be capitalized, wow aren't you honored by that? or in writing, ooh i just made the same exact stroke, only bigger so it would be capitalized. really, its not such a sacrifice to write in caps. a better way to show your level of respect for god is to love him, and show your love. wear it on your face and wear it in your actions. even if you are writing it online, it will come out in what you say, even if you do not specifically state it, and even if you do not use capital letters.

2. People are jerks. In the words of one friend, "Most people are bastard covered bastards with bastard filling." In the words of Jesus, "You will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me." In the words of Paul the Apostle, "In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted." But how most people think to deal with those jerks is different based on where you live (China vs America vs Israel), when it is occurring (present day or in the past under different social or legal standards), and just what it is they are doing to you (holding a gun to your head or cursing you out on the elevator).

My philosophy incorporates Jesus' words to love your neighbor like you love yourself, bless those who curse you, do good to those who mistreat you, and treat everyone the way you would want to be treated. I do not believe Jesus said this because he was a pansy. I believe he recognized that we cannot be responsible for others' actions, only our own. I attempt to follow Jesus' advice. I try to be nice to people, because I would want them to be nice to me back. But I have no expectation that they will be nice back. I am nice to them for my own sake, not for theirs. So whatever they do back is not my problem. The only thing I can do is cultivate in myself a sense of compassion for all things. I can not be responsible if they choose not to accept my offer of harmony. I often wonder, when reading my Bible, if Jesus ever used parts of the Buddhist philosophy in some of his teachings.

(Disclaimer: Buddhism has been around since between 600-400 BCE and its philosophy on a whole is not in agreement with the teachings of Christianity, however there are good points that can be used to make Christian beliefs more understandable.)

3. The creation vs. evolution argument. Frankly, we're here now. It doesn't matter how we got here. You cannot change the past, as anyone with an ex can tell you. Given how flawed human nature is, both options are probably wrong anyway. If I had to choose, my brother's ideas that both options are not mutually exclusive of one another makes a lot of sense, but only in his words. I can not put it into my own words, nor do I care to. I do not care how we got here, and I cringe when I hear the violence in my friends' voices when they discuss it.

4. The end times. Yes, the world is probably going to end soon. But people have been saying that since just after Jesus rose from the dead and went back to Heaven. My theory is that Jesus came, and gave people a glimpse of what Heaven would be like. We now have an acute sense that Heaven is not here on Earth, and its outlook seems bleak. Specifically how the world is going to end is highly debated among differing churches. I take the same position as before: I don't care. There is no sense worrying about the future when it hasn't happened yet. Since no one knows the exact moment when the "beginning of the end" will come, the only thing that we can do is live our lives in order to make every moment count. This does not mean go out and get drunk every night or have wild sex parties or ride every rollercoaster in the world. All it means is my philosophy #2. Live in harmony. Live in peace. Love God. Let that love be evident to everyone else. When you love people, do it in a way that says, "God loves you more than I do."

5. Abortion. Human life begins at conception. Killing a fetus is taking a life. Taking a life is not always wrong (commandment #6 forbids murder, not killing- Exodus 20:13). Any further discussion of abortion is not a religious discussion, it is purely a legal and social debate about the implications of establishing laws for or against it, therefore it should not be discussed in a blog entry about religion and spirituality. I personally would not be able to cope with the emotional and psychological consequences of having an abortion, but then again I also don't kill spiders in the house; I put them outside.

6. Church. Why go to church when you can sing music and read your Bible in the comfort of your own home? The quite simple answer is that you can have friends who agree with at least a portion of your beliefs. It is, in a sense, a support group. Church is fellowship, it is not the building, but the people. Having someone, even if it is just one person, to stand by your side while you are struggling with something God is telling you, can make all the difference in the world.

7. Prayer. This is not a Dear Santa letter. God is a being. Prayer is open communication. It goes two ways. No, I don't hear him audibly, although some people do. For me, prayer is like dialing in to the power holding the universe together. God is in the thunder and the wind and the ocean for me, and when I feel his presence, my mind simply puts all the pieces together of the things that I struggle with. And no, God is not just in the wild parts of nature. God is in the songs of the spring peepers, the cicadas, the bullfrogs at night. God is in the fog and the mist on May evenings, and in the warmth of good soil, and in the sun shining through the window while I'm doing dishes. The Chinese have a name for this power that runs in and through everything, sustaining living things; it is Qi.

8. To be continued...

Thats all for now. Is there a topic you would like me to cover here? Is there anything you would like to hear my thoughts on? Do you disagree with anything I've said? I'd like to hear from you.

History

A little bit of a history lesson:

A long time ago, the followers of Jesus founded a new religion. This new religion had leaders and attempted to follow all of Jesus' teachings as much as possible. But its hard to know exactly what he wants when he's not there in flesh and blood to tell you. Time passed, the Roman Empire split, Christianity was legalized, all other religions were outlawed, great philosophical schools were closed. The people were no longer taught to think for themselves, but believed what they were told to believe. In 754, the pope was given political control of central Italy. This union of religion and state is evidenced by the term "Holy Roman Empire" which encompassed more than just Rome. The pope's decrees became law to the monarchs of Europe. There was one religion, and doubt in that religion led to questioning and torture. Just as in the Salem witch trials, if you didn't like someone, you could accuse them of being a heretic, and they were taken away to bother you no more. Your piety was no longer about a personal belief, but about how popular you were. The more popular, the less your chance of being accused. The church demanded tithes, the kings demanded taxes, and together, the poor became poorer. Church services, which were mandatory, were done in Latin, and those who couldn't understand Latin just had to take it on faith that the Bible actually said what they thought it said.

In the late 1300s, John Wycliff, a scholar at Oxford University, read the Bible in Latin and came to the conclusion that it should be read by all people in their own language. Because he believed that the government (and not the church) should have control over affairs of the state, he received the protection of John of Gaunt, who was seeking to gain power over the young King Richard II. (There was a power struggle in the English court, in addition to the power struggle occurring between the two popes each claiming the other was a fraud.) He translated the Bible into English, and came to the conclusion that the traditional laws of the church are not as important as the laws laid out in the Bible, and that salvation comes through faith and not through any action or price we can give to the church.

In 1517, Martin Luther said pretty much the same thing, except in more detail. These two men started movements that would lead to the nearly global idea now, that people are free to choose their own religions. People are now equipped with the knowledge of the tenets of many varying beliefs, and possess an understanding of the (spiritual, and/or physical) repercussions of choosing one belief over another. The battles that were fought, and the people that were killed in order to establish and preserve this freedom for the people of today are just as important as the people who died in battle to establish the freedoms of democracy.

So when I tell you my beliefs, it is because I have exercised this wonderful freedom, and have chosen my religion. Your attempt to convince me I am wrong is just as threatening to me as Wycliff was to the foundations of the Catholic church.

EDIT: The title of this post is called "History" for 2 reasons. In the first, it is because the post is about historical events. Secondly, the idea for this post occurred so long ago in my own history that I am only able to recall the rumbling threat to my beliefs, and not the details of the incident. So, in answer to your question, no, I cannot explain.

Dear Careerbuilder.com

Dear Careerbuilder.com,

The job you recommended I apply for requires a knowledge of pharmaceutical sales, health care, and the Korean language.

What part of my resume made you think I would be good for that?

Sincerely,
Meghan

Beautiful

Eight months ago, I met up with an older friend who is kind of a mother figure, to catch up on old news and make plans for new news. At one point in the conversation, she said, "Wow, I cannot get over how different you look! You walk as if you know you are walking in fulfillment of your destiny and your dreams. You walk as if you know you are beautiful."

Now, I am doing exactly the same things, but my walk is slouched. I can't turn my neck to the right for the pain, and while I am taking steps toward my destiny, I second-guess everything and don't take a single step without advice from at least one person. I don't have the confidence I had eight months ago, and I wonder... "It was my destiny then, but is it still my destiny? Can a destiny change like that? Or is a destiny more like a compass, always pointing you in the right direction?"

Its not beauty, its confidence.

Someday...

Someday, I will not feel the need to cling so tightly to the cross. Someday, I will be able to walk hand-in-hand with God instead of hanging and white-knuckling it.

I am able to hope.

PUSH

I went back to my home church today. I haven't been there since Christmastime, but I had been told, "You can't miss this service." The service in question started with the music as usual, but Pastor did not give the sermon. Instead, a group called Push Physical Theater took the stage. Push is an interesting concept. Imagine a street mime in a large city coming together with other mimes, and forming a group that is one part Pilobolus, one part Shoestring Players. They are incredibly expressive, evoking the mental image precisely as the real thing appears, have incredible trust for each other, and are incredibly physically fit.

While it was a struggle for me to get there (it took all of Jack's efforts plus a small miracle to get me out of bed this morning), and a struggle for me to be there, I really felt that even though I was not able to experience it without a struggle, it was still important that I be there and see/hear the actors' message.

I'd love to share my impression of the message, as it struck me, but I can't. It is too personal. But it revealed a lot of thing about myself, and in a sense, showed me a little bit of who I am.

I cried on the way home. I'm not who I want to be.

How Far?

How far can it be,

The road we travel, you and me

How far can we go along

How long can we sing this song

How far can I let you go

Before you've found another road

How much road is in my head

And how much road is mine to tread

Relationships, like the Tree Pose, are a balanced posture.  "Falling into center, falling out of center," as my yoga instructors say.  We can walk along together, hand in hand, but how much will we let each other get away with before we lose that precarious balance we have?

Just something that struck me today.

Jack-ass

Hey everyone, its your friendly neighborhood cat, Jack. I think I've posted on Meg's blog once before. I just wanted to tell you about all the scary things that happened yesterday.

The electricity went out, so all the fans and noises in the house shut off, and it got so quiet that it made me nervous. Then, the carbon monoxide alarm started beeping because it had no power, and it was so loud that I ran upstairs to hide under Meg's bed. But, she was headed downstairs with a box of matches so I came out from under the bed to see what she was doing. She also turned off the alarm so it didn't hurt my ears.

Then, she lit some candles, and OOOH I don't like fire, at all, and matches make such a strong smell that it hurts my nose. I went back up to hide, but then I heard the kitty kibbles shaking downstairs which means dinner time so I came back out. After dinner, Meg started mumbling something about it being "57 degrees in here." I don't know what degrees are, but she didn't sound happy. She grabbed a shovel and started making all this noise outside and it scared me, and Slinky and Sister, so we ran- or sort of hopped- to the garage but it was so windy and snowy outside that we almost didn't make it.

Then the noise stopped and there was a nice clear path to the door, so we started to come back but then around the corner of the house, we saw a big furry monster coming towards us with a great big bundle of wood, and we got scared again. Sister was pretty sure it was just Meg, but we weren't taking any chances.

The monster went back out and brought in more wood, and this time we saw that it was Meg so we followed her inside but then she dropped the whole bundle on the kitchen floor with such a bang that I ran down to the basement and hid inside the walls. I was just coming back out because Meg was in the basement looking for batteries and I wanted to help her. But then all of a sudden the lights blazed on and the vacuum started up and tried to eat Meg!! I was so scared I was going to run two flights up to hide under her bed again. But I got to the living room and saw that the big black fire monster was hot and crackling again. I don't like that creature. It burned my paw when I was little and I have never forgiven it.

So Meg sighed and picked me up and carried me past it, and when she put me down, she sneezed and I ran to hide under her bed again. She came upstairs and told me she didn't want me under the bed, but I am not sure why. I don't really understand English very well. She said something about dust and allergies but I don't know what an allergy is. But then pretty soon, she reached under and grabbed me and dragged me out from under the bed. OOOH that made me MAD!

Meg here, I'm taking over for Jack, since its time for him to go eat. So yeah, I grabbed him and dragged him out and started blocking up the spaces so he couldn't continue to go in and out, in and out. I look over and he's peeing on my couch, where I had tossed some of my clothes.

In cat-ese, this gesture means, "F#@$ you." So after a quick smack which probably didn't hurt since he sat there and continued peeing, I yelled at him. I shut my bedroom door, and released a rant he had to listen to for ten minutes.

"What do you think you are doing? Why would that possibly cross your mind as an okay place to pee? You want to be vindictive, is that it? No you can't go out, you have to sit here and listen to me yell. Listen, bud, if you want to be vindictive, well, two can play at that game. I can be vindictive too. You just opened up a can of worms, Mister. You woke the sleeping giant. If you want vindictive, I'll give it to you. I'll fill all your hiding spots with BALLOONS, and THEN what will you do?"

I didn't talk to him the rest of the night. He should be glad I didn't throw him out on the porch with the other two cats.

As close to a tweet as I'm going to get

Good country music with a nice beat, roaring fire in the fireplace, hardwood floors for dancing, 98 degrees in here, and the only things missing are a faithful dog, a good man, and moonshine.

How to help Haiti

Here is an excerpt from an article I came across:

"Since the [Dominican Republic] shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, some vacationers have canceled their plans, fearing disruption to their holidays due to the January earthquake. [...] it’s important to know that there was absolutely no damage to the Dominican Republic, nor is air service being disrupted. [...]

"As for the emotional quandary of lying on a beach on the same island as Haiti, remember that the Dominican Republic depends on tourist dollars and will be in big trouble if people don’t come during its high spring season. Arthur Applbaum, a Harvard University professor of ethics, commented on this dilemma in a recent AP story. 'The people of Haiti are suffering whether you take your beach vacation in the Dominican Republic or in Hawaii, and it is a failure of the moral imagination not to be equally troubled in Waikiki,' he says.

There you have it. If you want to do your part to help out, you should go on vacation to the DR.

Combustion

Recently, a lot of things have happened. Steve diagnosed me with vitamin D deficiency, by accident. He asked if it was possible, I said maybe, then we changed the subject. Later, I looked it up and found that mood can be greatly affected by vitamin D, which can also work towards the prevention of acne (which I've been struggling with since October). And, my recent craving for mushrooms which are high in vitamin D also points in the same direction. Steve didn't know any of the signs, he just asked intuitively. When I asked him about it, he said it just popped into his head. It wasn't a getting-ready-for-med-school moment, it was just a moment.

I'm taking vitamin d supplements now, and it somewhat improves my outlook, and the look of my face. But there are still days, winter blues days. Today is the day I would have gone out and gotten all my errands done. But my brother has my mom's car, she has mine, and I have my brother's which has no brakes. I'm pretty much house-bound in a snow-covered town in the sticks. And I'm sick and tired of looking for jobs on the internet.

I'm left with my thoughts, which aren't very good. I end up taking sides when I sit and think about the situation some people are in. This whole situation happened to two different sets of people in my life, and in both cases I have to disagree with the side who'd be most offended if they knew I disagreed.

A friend of mine started a blog, and tried to explain why he did it. I think that he summed it up very nicely with this sentence: "A means to explode and remain in text." For me, its not a real explosion, its more like the small continuous explosion that occurs in a combustion engine. 955 blog entries and I still have not finished exploding.

On Monday morning, at 4:10 am my alarm clock went off. I got out of bed and went to the computer, where I was joined by my brother and Steve. At 4:14 am, we watched the space shuttle Endeavor launch. At 4:16 am, we went to the south-facing window in my closet and knelt on the floor to wait for Endeavor to pass by. At 4:20, my brother began to doubt his calculations and went to the computer to check the flight path. At 4:22, Steve and I spotted a bright star traveling across the sky and started yelling for my brother. He did manage to get back in time, and we followed its path from due south to due east. At 4:24, the NASA announcer on the streaming video declared that the shuttle was now in orbit, and we all could go back to sleep. I was reminded of the 6th grade, when I just knew I was going to be an astronaut some day regardless of my opinion of math and physics. The whole junior high spent months preparing for a field trip to a mock space station, where each person works as part of mission control, or as the flight team. It was probably the best field trip because instead of learning facts, we learned skills, communication and teamwork. I miss those days of dreaming. Now, I can't dream, I just have to pick a profession and chase it.

I still love to watch the stars though.

Discovery

I realize that eschatology can be an imprecise study at best, however I heard a sermon this week regarding the end times, which got me thinking. I don't know when the end will come, I don't know if Christians will be taken away before chaos rules the world. But I started thinking about some people I know who already seem to be lost in chaos, before any of this crazy end times chaos has started, and I started getting scared for them. If all the Christians were to disappear, and all the world were to be deceived afterward, it seems impossible to think that anyone could become a follower of God and remain so through persecution without a strong Christian to lift them up. I suppose it all boils down to worry. Worry for my friends and family, that in the end, there will be a right or wrong side and that they will choose the wrong side. But last night, in talking to two friends, I came to the conclusion that I cannot worry for everyone. One friend said, "Worry is an indication that you lack faith in their own decisions." And further, if Jesus really did come to save mankind, then the saving is His to worry about, not mine. I can only do His bidding and learn to listen when He speaks. And tonight I learned that since the burden of worry is lifted off my shoulders, I must fill this new found time with becoming the person I was meant to be, and being that person sincerely, without any fancy glaze on the outside hiding who I really am.

Its a rough morning.

A real post

Some of you may have noticed I haven't written a real entry in quite a long time. "How are you?" you ask. In fact, the last entry where I came close to expressing myself on this blog occurred on August 27th, 2009 and it was a somewhat cryptic message. In actuality, the approach of fall and winter does not sit well with me and often affects my mood. While good things (lots of them) have happened in the past few months, I have not felt motivated to write about it. I sit, and enjoy the thrill of each new thing, however, when it comes to motivation, I tend to feel like the picture above.

Tonight, I feel somewhat restless, as if I know my life has an awesome path ahead of me and I want to go down it, but for some reason I feel stuck and unable to continue forward. It also does not help that I feel as if my body is permanently damaged from my recent head cold, and will never recover the energy I lost to that illness.

Wikianswers

Answers.com is a place where one can ask a question, and anyone in the world can answer it. The world is lucky my sarcasm has not penetrated the vast knowledge contained in answers.com.

Observe the following question:
What are your chances of getting pregnant while I'm on birth control?

My chances of getting pregnant have everything to do with my health and sexual life, and nothing whatsoever to do with your being on birth control. However, I am thankful for your concern, as pregnancy is not something I feel would be beneficial to me at the particular life stage I am enjoying at the moment.

Huh?

Me: Hi, do you have a lost-and-found here?
Her: Yes, what did you lose?
Me: A grey scarf.
Her: What does it look like?
Me: Its grey fabric, fuzzy, long and thin so you can wrap it around your neck...

In short, it looks like a grey scarf.

Chain letters

While throwing out some old papers, I discovered the following chain letter (yes, an actual chain letter like through the mail):

To shorten it a little, I'm going to paraphrase in a few places.

"Dear Meghan

Six kids in 1990 started this chain letter. If it goes through 1999 (insert promise of an outrageous thing that will happen here).

(Insert warning and guilt trip about breaking the chain here.)

Copy this letter word for word, except drop the top name and address and add your name and address at the bottom. Send this letter to 6 kids and then send a postcard to the kid you dropped at the top. Please complete this in 4 days or the chain will be broken. In 24 days you will receive 84 postcards from around the world. (Insert a supposed tie to a reputable entity to make the letter legitimate here.)

6 names and addresses follow."

On the back of the letter, in my handwriting is a whole lot of math. Clearly, I was concerned about the idea of receiving 84 postcards. Now that I have rediscovered this letter, it occurs to me that it is a good thing I did not participate. I would have been opening myself up to the possibility of receiving 46,656 postcards (6 ^ 6 postcards) from around the world in 24 days. I don't have the space for all that! I'm trying to throw stuff out as it is.

It just goes to show that even back then people couldn't do simple math to save their lives.

Labor of Love

It was not a silent night;
There was blood on the ground.
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyway that night
On the streets of David's town.
And the stable was not clean,
And the cobblestones were cold,
And little Mary full of grace
With tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold.

It was a labor of pain, it was a cold sky above.
But for the girl on the ground in the dark,
With every beat of her beautiful heart,
It was a labor of love.

Noble Joseph by her side,
Callused hands and weary eyes.
No midwives to be found
On the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night.
So he held her and he prayed,
Shafts of moonlight on his face.
But the baby in her womb,
He was the maker of the moon.
He was the Author of the Faith
That could make the mountains move.

It was a labor of pain, it was a cold sky above.
But for the girl on the ground in the dark,
With every beat of her beautiful heart,
It was a labor of love.

For little Mary full of grace, with tears on her face,
It was a labor of love.

It was not a silent night, on the streets of David's town.
~Andrew Peterson

Christmas.

Christmas has a lot of non-Christian origins, and even though I am a Christian and I celebrate the gift God gave the world through the miraculous birth of Jesus, I still think the old traditions have merit too.

Winter is an incredibly depressing season, especially in the north where there's less daylight. Most of your crops are harvested and since it would be difficult to keep cattle over the winter, most of your herds are drying in the smokehouse as well. Pretty much all the work is done and you're sick of solitaire, so you settle back and look for something to do. Since sex only results in more mouths to feed, that's out of the question. So you throw a party. But you can't have a party for no reason so you wait until the winter solstice, and celebrate the return of the sun.

You decorate your house with holly, which because of its thorns, traps mischievous fairies like its flypaper. You want to remember the summertime, so you cut evergreen branches and ivy and decorate the house. You take the biggest green log you can find and burn it for hours 'cause... fire is cool and mesmerizing, and green logs make sparks, which are fun when they aren't burning down your house. If you've been good, a little elf man rides an elk to your house to give you a present. If you are bad, a giant cat comes and eats you.

Apples, like potatoes, will last for a while if you put them in a root cellar. But around December, they'll be shrivelly, so you mush them into cider and heat it up and spike it with alcohol, 'cause who ever heard of a party without alcohol? The alcohol warms your soul, so you go out wassailing (ie, singing loudly, offering alcohol to your neighbors, and generally bringing the party out of your house and into the streets.)

Doesn't that sound like a cool party? Since the shepherds were out watching their flocks by night, we can assume it was lambing season, the only time you really need to stay up all night with the flocks. Lambing season is in the spring, so I'm thinking I'd like to celebrate Christ's birth in March, and this December, sing loudly with a cup of spiked apple cider in hand, waiting for Jultomten to come riding up on his elk and fight it out with Santa over who gets to give me the present I want.

Incidentally, the gift-giving tradition came about in the Victorian era when parenting was becoming less strict and parents wanted a way to lavish gifts on their children without giving the appearance of spoiling them. The morality of being generous to others at Christmas time traces directly back to Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and although it is important for Christians to be generous in sharing the love of Christ, Charles Dickens is not a religious figure and I see no need to follow the example Scrooge sets at the end of the book. However, I WILL share my wassail.

California is full of Dinosaurs.

So, Mom's cousin Nancy turned 70, and Grandma turned 80. So, all the ladies of my family who were able to flocked to California to celebrate. We had about 10 days of girl talk, birthday parties, tourism, and "a few good laughs."

Here we are at the rental place. Question: How do you fit 6 women and their luggage into a 2009 mustang? Answer: Only in your dreams. We ended up with a van.
L-R: Me, Mom, Aunt Charnell, her daughter Molly, Grandma, Aunt Jill


After loading all our stuff up we followed the Garmin to our first destination, chosen for us by our hosts, Mom's cousin Dawnne, Nancy the birthday girl, and Nancy's daughter Dianne. We followed that Garmin along a pretty steep and winding path that we later discovered was one of the most dangerous roads in Southern California. Finding ourselves on the desert floor in Palm Springs was a relief, and felt like entering a different world. I imagine in the summer its kind of like Mordor: hot, rocky, and surrounded on all sides by mountains.

Friday night we checked into our hotels (some of us were staying in a hotel that was more on the luxury side of life because, well, a couple of them happen to be insanely rich). After we settled into our hotel, we headed over to the resort hotel where we planned to have a birthday party involving 12 of the ladies of the family. The mexican food was delicious and abundant.

Despite reminding me of Mordor crossed with some pretty darn expensive hotels, the entire Palm Desert area put on a wonderful display of mountains, palms, and clouds.
Saturday, Dec 5. While Aunt Charnell went to urgent care to get treated for a sinus infection, a few of us went to a street fair, which is what the rich folks call a flea market.


Saturday morning, at Aunt Charnell's insistance (despite her sinus infection) we drove to a tram station for a ride to the top of the highest mountain. On the way, we passed a wind farm. I once saw an episode of Mike Rowe's Dirty Jobs in which he cleans the grease (yes, carbon-footprint-grease) out of the inside of these things. I don't think they are the "clean energy" everyone thinks they are. But they are definitely photogenic.


Me at the top of Mount San Jacinto (pronounced, "huh-SIN-toe"), elevation 8516. It was 30 degrees and windy and snowy up there. Incidentally, NJ was having the same weather. I could have stayed home and watched the Discovery Channel.
If you look closely, you can see that the tram passed through the cloud cover and out the other side in order to get us to the top of the mountain.


Sunday evening we had dinner at a gorgeous and expensive house owned by mom's cousin's daughter and son-in-law. Despite being in their home, it was a really dressed-up affair, complete with plates that go under your dinner plates. I didn't find out until Friday that these are called chargers. I honestly don't see the sense in using a charger unless it is made of wicker and goes under your paper plate so your hot dog and potato salad don't spill all over the lawn.

Monday morning it was raining buckets, and all of California was happy since it hadn't rained since June 15th. We were ok with the rain, but the temperatures were incredibly cold. We went on a trolley tour of San Diego, which included some interesting stories about the history of San Diego and how it was founded. Most of my pictures came out with water droplets, since I took them through the windows of the trolley.

After the trolley ride we returned to our host home- Dawnne's house- to get dolled up for a Ladies' Tea. We had been told to bring one good outfit to wear to the tea but when I pulled out the dress I'd brought I realized I'd die of hypothermia if I wore it. Luckily, most of us are close in size and we all had a giant clothing swap, since we were all feeling cold from the rainy weather.

The tea was interesting. Several women from the church volunteered to be "hostesses" which means they decorate the table and the caterers (children and men from the church?) come first to the hostesses to be sure each teapot is correct and nothing is wrong with the teacakes and finger foods. Each table is decorated differently, but each table should have been featured in some home or living magazines. It was a nice experience, and now that I have done it once, I never will again.


Tuesday morning we got up and headed to Los Angeles. Notable experiences were: the snow capped San Bernardino mountains in the distance, my Aunt Jill posing with Samuel L. Jackson and Molly kissing Justin Timberlake at Madame Tussaud's, all the footprints in the cement, the Hollywood sign, Rodeo Drive, and having your picture taken with actors playing famous characters.
Me with Charlie Chaplin.


Very quickly, the time came when we had to pile into the car and head over to the filming studios, where my grandmother's surprise waited: A filming of Jepardy. My grandmother actually argued with Alex Trebek about the weather in California, and I got no pictures because the security in Hollywood is heavier than at the airport. Note for your calendar: watch Jepardy March 1 and 2, because you might be able to see the audience and we were in the front row, in front of the contestants' family members.

After Jepardy, we drove down Sunset Boulevard and found a relatively inexpensive place to eat that claimed to be the favorite of some celebrities or other. You can tell how much I care about rubbing elbows with the rich folks. A favorite quote of the evening was, "We picked a place with a mechanical bull so that we would fit right in."

A table with seven women attracted some attention, and somehow we were blessed with a ginormous martini glass full of cotton candy (on the house). While the cotton candy was fun, the glass was also a good photo op.


A guitarist and a violinist came over to serenade us (Runnin' down the road tryin' to loosen my load I've got seven women on my mind... hey, there are seven of you, oh sorry, I missed that chord, ok wait we'll start over). They played a LOT of songs for us and I think they kept coming back to us because we sang along at the top of our lungs, while the other dinner patrons just sat and listened politely.

And yes, I did mention a mechanical bull. We took pictures first, and then Molly, Aunt Jill, and I all rode it. The only thing missing was the "Hick and proud of it" t-shirt. And line dancing. That place should have had line dancing.


Wednesday morning we got up way too early and went to tour San Diego's harbor on a tour boat. Things we saw: birds, sea lions, dolphins, battleships, the Star of India, the HMS Surprise, Tijuana, a coast guard cutter, more battleships, submarine sailors above deck returning from a tour of duty, helicopters, the hosptial ship Mercy, and a small vessel that nearly caused two accidents. Ask me about the Pterodactyl and Dinosaur Eggs story.
Mom got to turn the ship's wheel.


After the tour we drove to Cabrillo National Monument, the second most visited monument in the US (after the Statue of Liberty). We were blessed with a unique photo op by the little guy at the top of the cross, below.


Still not done with the tourism that day, we stopped in Del Mar to see the sunset and have a $4 Mai Tai.


And pole dance with the heat lamps. That was BEFORE the drinks came.


After that we headed to Nancy's for a home-cooked meal, which we appreciated and then, as if we didn't do enough tourism for the day, they dragged us out to the race track to see the Christmas light display.
Dinosaurs for Navin.


Thursday morning we were supposed to sleep in. Dawnne came into our room at about 8 am, saying, "The weather is gorgeous even though it was supposed to rain. Lets go for a hike!" I now know why coffee shops started on the West Coast.
Me, with the mountain behind me. I climbed to the peak and back in 3 hours. Iron Mountain, elevation really-dang-high.


Thursday after the hike no one was available to give us a tour of anything, due to previous engagements. So we had the afternoon to ourselves. We spent most of it lost, had another trip to urgent care for someone else's sinus infection, and ended up at Balboa Park, where I took a bazillion pictures, but liked the irony of this one:
A photograph of a photographer.


Friday, despite more rain, we bundled up (four longsleeve shirts for me, including two hoodies) and headed to the San Diego zoo, where for some reason every time I tried to take a picture of a big cat, it squatted for bathroom reasons. There were some pretty neat exhibits about the animals that once roamed North America, including statues of them so we could see how big they would have been.
I give the San Diego Zoo some big-time props for their optimism.


Friday evening was another birthday dinner, cooked by Ray, Dawnne's husband. It was fancy like the rest of them, except everyone knew we had come from the Aquarium- I mean the Zoo- so it was ok that we were not dressed up and were soaking wet and chilled to the bone. Somewhere during the week I overheard the comment, "I'm about sick of dressing to impress the rich people." Which was entirely true. At a certain point I decided my internal body temperature required a big heavy water polo hoody regardless of the presence of chargers and if you don't like it, leave. But I have to admit, I think I liked Ray's cooking the best of our meals out there (but don't tell him; he'll get a big head!)

On Saturday it rained again. We drove 2.5 hours to Santa Monica to meet mom's cousin Rick (the Saxton side) and mom's cousin MaryLee (the Wilson side). We then sat in a restaurant for 4.5 hours while I learned more about my family's history than is good for me. Then we drove 2.5 hours back to the San Diego area.
We passed a dinosaur on the way to the restaurant.


After getting back to San Diego, a few of us had the urge to find a place to go line dancing. I guess 9.5 hours of sitting down can do that to you. Unfortunately, all we found was a tiny smoky bar with loud music I didn't like. But when you are having a 10-day-long girls'-night-out, you can find fun anywhere. While some of us made fun of the dancers ("that guy dances like an orangutan, that one dances like an epileptic gay man, white people sooo cannot dance, and wow I feel like I'm still at the zoo") a few of us sipped a beer, I used mental jujitsu to get rid of a guy with a bad pick up line, and grandma flirted with the young men. When she let one of them lead her to the dance floor, we all scrambled for cameras, but it was too dark for me to get any good shots.

On Sunday, we were awoken once again for a tourist destination even though it was the day of our flights back home. First we went to a really awesome botanical garden where the dinosaur in me felt right at home in the prehistoric-looking palms and ferns. Then we were off to Del Mar for a walk on the beach. And here are some seals on the beach in La Jolla (pronounced "hoya"):


And the skyline of La Jolla. There is a reason it is hoity-toity. Look at that view. No, not me, look at the cliffs behind me.


Our plane landed in NJ at 4:45 AM Monday morning, and I slept from 6 till 2 pm. I came back to 62 new emails. My life will continue to be crazy until after Christmas.