Time Apart

Sorry if I have neglected anyone lately... I think I've neglected almost everyone. But I need it... because in a twisted way, I've neglected myself for too long. Not in the way of thinking about how I work, god knows I've done too much of that... but in simply letting myself work that way. It's very nice. I think it's helping, a lot. I'm getting a little done in the process. I've also figured out the horrible, nasty, but very human reason why I wish I was anything but American. I'm disgusted with it, but that's life. I've been reading a lot, dreaming about new worlds and freshening up my mental atmosphere. I've been reading the oldest stuff (Cicero, Iliad), and the newest (The Kite Runner, Memoirs of a Geisha) and whatever I find in between (Pride and Prejudice). And ah... I'm really very happy. Happy in a different way than I think I've been in a long time.

So yes, now I'm off... I could be mysterious, but really, I'm going to the Lake. I'll have some fun out on the boat and playing Soul Calibur, and also some time to be myself. Completely. Without any ties. Not Petra, not Elindomiel, not even Ellie. I'll just be Miranda.

I'll see you after that.

A Fun Game

Closest thing I get to gaming or rping these days is cybernations. Sad, really, but not because the game isn't fun and addicting. It's also easy maintenance... not that much you can do in one day. Anyhow, here's the link, try it out, look up my nation: Santagar, ruler Elindomiel... and have a great time. ^^

www.cybernations.net

Fun with Farsi

This guy, Tamim Ansary, who is bilingual in English and Farsi is always talking about the ways one language can say things another language can't say. He makes me laugh. Here are some bits from one article:

What's in a word?
Translation assumes that humanity has some finite collection of meanings in common and that each language has a word for each meaning. Actually, of course, words denote things people have noticed, and different peoples have noticed different things.

Last summer, I was in Colorado with a bunch of my Afghan cousins, sitting on a lawn and lazing away the summer afternoon. As the light sank, one cousin said, "Let's go indoors. I'm getting qukh."

My Farsi has faded somewhat in the many years since I left the Farsi-speaking world, and qukh was new to me. "What is qukh?"

"Well," said my cousin, "you know, how if you sit on grass long enough, especially late in the day, the moisture rising from the earth makes the fabric of your pants damp?"

Yes.

"And you know how the damp fabric clings to your skin?"

Uh-huh.

"And when you pull the fabric away, your skin feels kind of bumpy and itchy?"

Yes.

"Well, that's qukh!"

Now, this usage may seem so precise and limited that one would rarely find a use for it, even if the word existed in English. But the very next day, driving to Aspen, my back was sweating against the vinyl seat; it made the shirt stick to my skin; and after a few hours I had to pull over because--well, I was feeling a bit qukh. Since then, I have noticed ever so many instances of this phenomenon.

The trouble with translation

Of course, English could adopt this word, or any word, if English speakers found it useful. That's what languages do. But once a word comes into English, it is used in real-life English-language situations, in letters and literature and conversations, and thus accumulates associations that make it an organic part of the experience of English-speaking people. These associations and connections, these capillaries of meaning, seat the word in the living flesh of the English language. And every word in a language has such capillaries connecting it to all the rest of the language. We don't see them but if we know the language, we feel them: They are a part of its meaning.

This hits me every time I play around with translation. Once, for example, I was trying to translate a ghazal, a sonnet-length lyric, by the 14th-century poet Hafez from Persian (a.k.a. Farsi, a.k.a. Dari) into English. Translated literally, the first two lines of this celebrated poem go as follows:

If that Turk from Shiraz were to capture my heart
I would give away Samarkand and Bokhara for her Hindu mole.

I suppose it's no use telling you that this couplet thrums with mysterious erotic resonance in Persian. Few English speakers will be convinced, especially about the Eros.

But why is so much lost? After all, practically half the words in this couplet are names. They sound and mean the same in English as in Persian. Samarkand, Bokhara, and Shiraz are cities you will find on any English-language map. And even in English, Turks are Turks and Hindus are Hindus.

Some translators fuss with synonyms to inject rhythm and rhyme into the lines, hoping to recapture the music of the original. It's no use. At the end of the day, you're still left with that Turk. And that mole.

And that's the problem. The Western ear comes to this couplet with associations drawn from Western history and literature. In the West, ever since the Crusades, Turk has meant "brutal menace on the eastern frontiers of Christendom." In real life, Turks include men, women, and children, but in the network of English-language associations, Turk is fundamentally male--a brawny, scimitar-wielding male. Those invisible capillaries of meaning feed all that extra meaning into the mere word.

In the Persian network of associations, Turk is more complicated. Even there, the label brings power to mind, Turks having formed the ruling aristocracy of every Muslim society from Delhi to Istanbul for 800 years. But it's not a shadowy Other looming beyond the borders, it's our own, familiar power elite--kings and queens presiding over courts, doling out patronage and favors. You might say that in Hafez's world, Turk evoked a feeling roughly like American might in today's industrialized West.

And in those same societies, Persians also commanded an authority of their own, based on a supposedly more ancient cultural sophistication. They contributed poetry, art, perfume, an appreciation of gardens--and Shiraz epitomized the romantic Persian city. It was the Venice of the Persian world.

Samarkand and Bokhara may be mere place names to the Western sensibility, but to the Asiatic ear, they evoke the same mythic splendor and decadent luxury aroused in the West by such names as Byzantium, Babylon, or Rome. Hindu filters into the Western sensibility through the British colonial experience, but for Persians Hindus were within a familiar civilization, interlaced, highly relevant, and yet…exotic. An analogous figure for Westerners might be the Japanese: clearly industrialized, clearly modern, and yet…exotic.

Finally, there's that mole. Westerners don't go for moles. No, no, we just don't. It's no better if they're Hindu moles. No mole at all is the look we prefer. No accounting for taste. Frankly, 30 years ago, I never would have guessed that stylish young American women would one day sport tattoos or that guys would find tattooed women attractive.

In short, to convey any hint of what Hafez was up to in that famous couplet of his, a translator might have to go with something like this:

If that American in Venice were to coo "I love you too…"
I would barter Babylon and Rome for her Japanese tattoo.

But would that really count as a translation? Now you've got the capillaries--maybe--but you've lost the word. You see the problem.

Kaleidoscope world

And the problem goes beyond vocabulary. A view of the world is embedded in the very structure of a language, any language. Pronouns, for example, have no gender in Farsi. A religious statement never forces or lets you assign a gender to God. In French, by contrast, even bicycles have gender, as do abstract ideas, and their modifiers must conform. What do fluent speakers of this language see? I have trouble imagining.

In Turkish, I am told, the first vowel in a sentence determines what all the other vowels in the sentence will be. Change the first word and the whole sentence sounds different. Hmm.

Tahitian consists almost entirely of separate word parts that stand alone. You need a whole sentence to express all the meanings that English can pack into a single highly inflected compound verb.

By contrast, Finnish lets you combine more or less any number of word bits and affixes to create single words that express what would take whole sentences to say in English. Juoksentelisinkohan, a combination of seven little word parts, is a single word that means, "I wonder if I should run about aimlessly?"

A French teacher in Colorado once said to me, "My students keep asking, 'How do you say this or that in French?' And I'm at a loss because the real answer is, 'You don't.'"

A Future Life

I think about the things other people are doing and I feel so pinned down. Is it by my parents? My age? My country? My lack of a drivers license? My appearance of age? Coincidence? Era? Gender? Some combination seems likely, as theres always someone with the same restraint who seems to be doing more. There are people less free than I, but I just want to make my own choices and do cool things... Things not even that exciting but little things like going down to the bakery to pick up some bread or having a regular job or... I don't know, dating normally? Go out to the park and hang out? Instead I... Do nothing... Prepare for a future life... I sit and study; economics, foreign languages. I say I'll use them someday, but I won't ever unless I get out of this house... out of this place.

My mom tells stories of roaming and hanging out with everyone as if I'm pathetic not to do the same, I complain that I couldn't if I wanted to. She says of course, times have changed. My era. It's not right. My dad tells stories of being a boyscout, of spending nights alone in the woods and building his own lean to's, of finding a mountain lion's den and being attacked by a strange valley wind. I complain that in Girl Scouts we're not even allowed to be at the shower house without an adult, even in pairs at the age of 16. I complain that in Girl Scouts we can't stand nor sit but must KNEEL in a canoe for the overbearing idol of safety. For all the good it does us, we have no better record than the boys, and they get to have fun in all of it. I used to spend hours trying to kiss my elbow, because I heard it would turn me into a boy.

Someday. I'll be out of high school. Maybe out of college. I'll have friends. Real friends. I'll have a boy. A real boy. No one will care that I'm short, no one that matters. I'll look my age. I'll be brave and wear short shorts and cute shirts and nice make-up and sometimes bikini's and people will see me. In this future life, I'll travel, I'll see the world, I'll do all those things. Wander. Roam. Explore. Live. Not in video games, not in stories, not in dreams of tomorrow. Those only last so long. Then things will happen.

Stupid Miranda

Sometimes I get so sick of my whiny self. Today:

"I thought maybe you were in Europe. Aren't you going to Europe soon?" - Mrs. Desloge.

"No... I get to go to Canada, though." (But just over the Border, naturally.)

"Oh, Because Bryan just went with a whole bunch of people, with school..."

"Oh yeah, A whole lot of them went." Everyone at Wendy's party was talking about it. Jan left on the same day, on the same flight. Back to Germany. Todd just got back from Ireland. Angela wasn't going to go because she went to Australia instead.

;_; ;_; ;_; Let's whine let's cry, we only have a lakehouse, we only have a swimming pool, everyone's in Europe but us.... ;_; ;_; ;_;

Oh, it's disgusting. Miranda, you idiot, not everyone but you is in Europe...

Phone Bill

I got the Phone Bill today. Painful, but not as awful as it could have been, considering what all went on on the little phone this spring. We sat there with mom's little bitty calculator, totalling taxes and ringtones and text messaging and internet usage and calls to St. Louis and calls to Virginia and calls to Norway. I ended up 7.00$ over Melissa. Only Seven! That's rediculous, she didn't have 5 calls to Norway weighing her bill down. The answer? Ringtones. I have 3 custom ringtones downloaded at 40 cents of internet usage charge a peice. She pays 3$ a pop for fancy dancy ones that almost sound like awful voices screeching. I laugh at her. I laugh with all the laughter at my command.

Why I could Never Teach

This is why I could never teach:

I'm sorry my late reply.

Umm... You are very tight.

Cheer up! Smile! i always think about you.

Do you like a reading?

you have a very good havit.

i like reading, too. but you are like a reading better than me.

Too many reading, we will become a good adult.

You learn many language.

I learn chinese, japanese and English(English is foreign language for me).

Chinese is very hard, but japanese is easy for me.

my summer vacation??

um...U...MM....

i'll go to the my grandparents home.

They are love me, and i'm love them.

And i learn swimming.

i like swim very much but i can't swimming very well.

Do you like swim??

And study...... study........ always study....... Uuuuuuuuu!!!

I want a freedom!!!! haha.

OK. have a nice vacation. God bless you~


- An Email I got today from a friend of mine in Korea.

Eight - Lust

• Eight – Lust

Lust in the sense of wanting more of what this individual finds stimulating to the point that most people would feel overwhelmed and say too much.

Obsession. Addiction. Wanting More. Wanting it all. Wanting too much.

Yeah, I've got that. A Brief List, excluding foods:

Banjo Kazooie - 1998

The Hobbit - 1998

Computers - 1998 on

Paranormal - 1998-2001

Pokemon - 1999-2001

Lord of the Rings 2001 on

Languages 2001 on

Zelda - 2002

Elvish - 2002

Writing - 2002 on

Role Playing - 2003 on

Baldurs Gate Dark Alliance - 2004

When is enough enough? When you get up at 5 from dreams of running down hallways killing beasts to play Dark Alliance before you go to school in the morning? When you spend all your electives and more taking German, Spanish, and Latin? When you learn a bit of the language of LOTR, and can recite the first 5 chapters of the Lay of Leithien? When you sneak on at lunch and gym class to make a reply, and hit F5 on message boards repeatedly, waiting for more stimulation? When you know every detail about Zelda and Banjo Kazooie, and what it was originally called, and the little jokes of the producers, and what happens when you pull out the left side of the cartridge exactly so? When you can recite all 251 pokemon, in order, and know more about them than any kid at your school, in the epicenter of the madness?

That being said... I think I do watch myself. Bah... Or it could just be luck. What I mean is... so far, they're all rather healthy obsessions. Baldurs Gate Dark Alliance was probably the worst, and Pokémon was disgustingly fadish. But Languages and Writing are productive. Still, I'll jus ttry to stay away from Drugs. I don't drink, I don't like pain or sleep pills, and I don't do Soda or Caffeine. I'll do my best! :D

Conversations at Racquetball

First I played Alexis. She's several seats above me, but I don't think she ever puts her head in the game unless her place is on the line. I easily beat her; 15-7. Someone calls me as I play, I think...

"Miranda? Nei, Nei, Jeg heter Petra. No... I'm Ellie. Like Jelly. Joe and I. Jelly."

Do I remember where Ellie even came from? Those fanciful roots... as easily forgotten as maintained, but I did promise, in so many signatures and usernames, not to change like the rest of the world. So there she is... Elindomiel's there as well. Miranda and Petra and Jelly and Elindomiel.

The best part about being crazy, about chattering away to yourself is that you always get to make the point you want to make, you always get to go the way you want to go. Next I play Tia. A few seats behind me, but I'm sinking. She gets three points on me. I can autopilot when I have the serve, but I should try... I should try to pay attention when she does.

I get the serve back. Then I'm back to nowhere. 8-3. But I don't think "Eight". It's either "Åtte or Otto" and I can't even tell the difference. I find that funny. No reason. She gets four more points. I take the serve. 11-7. Almost like 7-11. I find that funny. No reason. I hit a perfect serve right down the backhand wall. She hits it, but poorly... it bounces and skitters, barely making the front wall.

If I ever really go insane, if it ever goes beyond an extreme case of mind wandering in Racquetball, someone tell me. I might go so far as to write a letter to myself, label it, "Open in case of lost marbles, of a burnt out christmas light." It will tell me all the things I want to do if I'm ever too insane to care. There will be much speaking in tongues. Real and Imagined. And I want to sing this one song. Simple, not horrible, short, and looping. The Windmill Song. Perfekt. I'll sing it all day long.

Just tell me when. I'll be ready. :D

The American Tradition

A book I'm currently reading, Lies My Teacher Told Me, is predominantly about ripping apart America's history text books and finding many cases of lying by omission, heroification, and other non historical contents within. Here's a certain quote I find interesting:

""The US has done more than any other nation in history to provide equal rights for all," The American Tradition assures us. Of course, it's authors have not seriously considered the levels of human rights in the Netherlands, Lesotho, or Canda today, or in Choctaw society in 1800, because they don't mean their declaration as a serious statement of comparative history - it is just ethnocentric cheerleading."

Summer Reading List

Here is my summer reading list, which I have already started on by gaining possession of each book.

Freakonomics
The Rogue Economist
Bringing Down the House (Maybe)
The Iliad and the Odyssey
The Kite Runner
Italian Now!
Wheelock's Latin
Lies my Teacher Told Me
So You Want to Write

Back from Camp

I returned yesterday and slept for most of the day except when I was meeting my cousins new Girlfriend. More about her and about camp later unless I am impossibly lazy, which I really hope I'm not because it was quite the experiance. Suffice to say that it was fun mixed in with a lot of work and being more exhausted than is within the normal human experiance. Except for maybe med students, but theyre older. :P

10,000 Year Calendar

http://www.calendarhome.com/tyc/tyc.tif

http://www.flightquarters.com/Merchant2/merchant.mv?Screen=CTGY&Category_Code=F

Third and Fourth time I am reduced to near speechlessness by something online in a few days. I tried the first one out and found out the world should end on a Wednesday. :) This amuses me because the old poem says, "Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe"

Writing and Reading

The best way to improve your writing is to write. After that is to read and think about writing. So, I just want to get more serious at all of the above. So far, I've been making the effort to write every day, and succeeding. Have I been getting 500 words a day? Well, no. I got 700 today, but yesterday less than 300. So, that will vary. But I have been thinking about writing a lot, thinking about good charectors and form and style and plot. Also, I've been reading more. Currently I'm reading The Iliad and The Kite Runner.

They're very different, obviously... one a classic and the other mainstream fiction. But so far theyre both very good, and I think I can feel myself learning technique! :P Alright, so the Iliad is a lot of technique to aspire to. But still, it's a step in the right direction to read it and think about it...

Edit: I topped out at more than 1,000 today. I rock. ^^

...Wow

AC: Do you have any favorite questions that kids have asked you?

LS: This kid at a reading the other day asked if I had a hot tub, and I said no. So he said that neither did Christopher Paolini -- Christopher Paolini wrote Eragon, a popular children's series. I said, well, that's why Christopher Paolini and I had never been in a hot tub together, because every time we were together we'd say your hot tub or mine, and we'd both have to say we didn't have one, which is why Christopher Paolini and I have remained total strangers rather than hot tub partners.

An End to Understanding

This concerns emo posts. It's okay to be sad once in a while, but I've been a bit too emo lately, and I've decided upon two reasons why I shouldn't be in hopes that logic will burn the evil out:

1.) The sadness will be either:
A.) Something I could be working to improve, and if I am not, then I shouldn't be complaining.
B.) Not something I can be working to improve, and therefore I should just try to accept it and move on.

2.) Wallowing in Self Pity and Despair is only a destructive emotion.

BTW, the Emo speech I posted was not a reflection of true feelings, and the Blue Sky post, while based on a real feeling, was exaggerrated and parodied. And finally, wallowing might be a little strong, for the most part I am happy. :)

Que Necesito Hacer Hoy...

Plan of Attack for Today, being the Fifteenth of June:

Morning: Eat, Survive, Learn Japanese Verbs, Plot
Lunch: Eat
4:00 : Visit Mrs. Hirayoshi, show off Verbs
6:00 Christy comes and I show off Italian. :P

At Some Point: Pack a bit more, Write a bit, Tell Mr. Mina that unfortunately my camp DOES start on Saturday for me since I'm an aide, and I can't attend church with him this week.

GPA

So, grades were dissapointing because although they were all higher than last semester (except History with a demon teacher, but especially math), my GPA actually dropped. How? Simple.

Math - 72% (C) --- 87% (B)
Biology - 82% (B) --- 89.3% (B)
English - 90% (A) --- 93% (A)
History - 90% (A) --- 88% (B)
German - 95% (A) --- 95% (A)
Spanish - 91% (A) --- 98% (A)
Latin - 93% and Project (H) --- 96% (A)

So, obviously the problem is in not doing the Latin project. I guess I can admit that I should have, BUT... 1) I thought my grade was high enough without it. It has to be a 97% or above. Perhaps it was until the final, in which case, bah, at least I can't blame anyone. But if it was because it was below 97% anywhere in the semester, then I blame my teacher, because I had a hard time getting grade print outs from him and knowing where I stood. 2) You have to do the project in the middle of finals week! Last semester, this was possible because I devoted a three day weekend to it. This year, no such opportunity was available.

So in the end, I must say, well, it was an H for God's sakes, what are you going to do? It's really just the irony that's killing you, your grades are fine. And probably, the colleges would rather you have a B and an A than a C and an H. Hard to say.

But Irony Part II... and not as destructive...

I have a 4.0 in College so far. :D Because my Spanish class counted for 5 credit hours in college.

A Lot of Pieces (Non Emo)

Item: 20701 Section: Candy
Reese's Pieces® 25 pounds
Approximately 14,200 candy Coated Peanut Butter Confections.
Suggested Retail Price: $117.28
Amount of Gross Profit: $36.35
Wholesale including shipping*... $80.93

I Create Reality

http://icreatereality.com/

4 : 14 : 44 : 14

My total time of music on Itunes.

4 days
14 hours
44 minutes
14 seconds.

:P

On A Roll

I'm on a Roll. 3 emo posts in a row, 5 chapters in Italian in a row, 1 cool new group on Facebook. :D Above you see the lovely picture (obviously depicting Grumio and Metalla for anyone who has suffered through the atrociously easy first year of Latin, which actually only takes a week); the name is Sola Lingua Bona, and the theme is Latin! For all the Latin students at our school, because you know they rock. ^^

The Cup

I'm being greedy because I've been spoiled. I know my cup is nearly full... even the slightest fun event or opportunity brings it to the brim. So it's horrible to think back upon the days when it was overflowing, isn't it? Horrible.

What I need now is to feel some real anguish, so I can tell the difference on that end of the spectrum as well and stop feeling so sorry for myself.

Go Away, Blue Sky

Today the weather was remarkable. The air was light and sunny-warm, not hot at all. The leaves were every colour of green, and the sky was an extraordinary blue.

I didn't like it there. A true blue sky, a sky like that, tugs at you. It tells you you have to open your heart wide, like this, if you want to really see it, really trust it and feel it. But I... do not. I want to, understand, in the part of me that has some measure of faith and some sense of importance. But I hold back, and just feel it tugging, and it hurts.

So go away, blue sky. Take your brightest beauty and go to someone who can see it.

ROFLMAO

Gluttony

• Seven – Gluttony

Gluttony not in the sense of eating too much, but instead, of sampling a taste of everything the world has to offer (breadth) and not taking the time for richer experience (depth).

Gluttony. It's what I've got to watch for. You know why? Because when I start to like something, really like it, when I start to go beneath the very top of the surface and it starts feeling... comfortable... Then I stop. I feel like it's not mine. I feel unclean and unworthy... No, not that. I feel like an outsider. Like it's not mine to touch, not deeply. I'm afraid I won't pass, so I don't move past scanning. So I just taste it. Keep things light. And move on.

Italian

The above diagram illustrates why I must learn Italian, and I how I plan to do so. Trip to Italy is planned for the Spring - I've even started paying for it. Knowledge of Italian is optional, but would make things far more fun. Then, Christy is getting an Italian. A real live Italian girl. Well, if she's learning, I must as well. And between Latin and Spanish, it'd be a shame if I didn't at least learn a little. So. The Plan.

I woke up this morning at 8:00. I cleaned my room and the kitchen. I showered. I dressed. I walked Tidbit. I painted my nails. I addressed post cards. I did the first five chapters of a French CD I had lying around. Then I decided Christy had better be awake. I called her and woke her up. We went to Borders. These things aren't free.

Teach Yourself Italian was the first and main purchase. It always helps to have an old friend. Two pronunciation Cd's to go with it. Eurotalk would get us started, I already owned that. Italian Dictionary? I've already got one good enough to serve for now. Thus only the last purchase remained: A workbook, mostly, with enough aspects of a textbook to stand alone except pronunciation, which is mercifully easy. Italian Now! L'Italiano D'oggi! The Italian Doggy? We had a ways to go.

We broke our impoverished banks to buy them. She was saving money, my purse is at the lake, and I just put down 500$ for the Italy trip.

Home. We opened everything, flipped through to see what we would be dealing with. We wasted a little time preparing Ravioli, Margherita Pizza, and Garlic Bread, but we needed the mood that created. Then we cracked the books and attacked the soul killing bit: pronunciation. Not as easy as, say, Norwegian, but not bad, really. The G's and Gh's and C's and Ch's and Gl's and Gn's seemed a little... random, but they all followed rules.

So full speed ahead. We beat the first three chapters of Eurotalk. A shade easier for me, after Spanish. And so I was a shade better. But it's nice to have someone as quick as Christy to work with, I didn't feel like she was dragging me down. Swimming for a break, then we got onto the workbook and did the first chapter in that. Now we will be meeting twice a week. We only have a year, after all. And we want to be well underway when the Italian arrives.

Six Hours Later.

Italian! It tastes just like the food! Creamy and smooth and crunchy all in one! With a hint of garlic, Christy added as I began to suspect she thought me as nutty as all of you do. Is it my favourite language ever? No. Not like English my native tongue, nor like Norwegian my beloved, nor even Spanish with it's effortless grace. But it beats French hands down, Japanese by a bit, and is about tied with German and Elvish. Tasty. Delicious. I admit, I'm excited.

Arabic Church Again

They remembered me. All of them. Even the four year old girl. O.o That was one part weird to three parts flattery and good feelings. Even the rowdy little boy said,

"Miranda? I heard that name once, a long time ago..."

I came. I cut out hearts for little kids to make fathers day cards. I drew pictures and taught them to make fortune tellers. I ate some delicious rice stuff with a mixture of chicken broth and boiled chicken and a spinach like thing poured over it. I ate a lasagna thing that was creamy and sweet. I ate pita bread. I recieved a gift of fresh eggs from a farmer: no pesticides, they said. I tried Arabic Coffee. Even the American kind is to strong for me, so they all laughed.

"We have Arabic Watermelon too." They said.

"How is it different?"

"Ha ha! It's from the Grocery Store!" -.-

And they remembered me. The new ones asked me my name, and what country I was from.

"Uhm... Here?"

"Oh really? You look like at least a mix."

"Yeah, I think you could pass for Arabic."

I get told that about nearly everything... I could pass. Oh, the confusion!

Having left at 7:00, I got home at 11:00; that's four hours of church. And it speeds by in a blur of Candy Land and Qahwah. There was a fierce storm outside, so I waited it out in my kitchen, watching another hour go by. I watched Tidbit snore as I finished up the first chapter of Italian. It's been a long day, but Ah... The Happiness.

Ormurin Langi

Ormurin Langi is an awesome song.

Tidbit and I

Tootsie and I

New Icon?

I've gotten so many negative comments about my last icon that I think I'll try out some new ones... This one lots of people liked the original picture, but I don't think it scaled down too well... I'll keep looking, I guess. Here are the different ones I've had.

Move Along

Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking 
When you fall everyone sins 
Another day and you've had your fill of sinking 
With the life held in your 
Hands are shaking cold 
These hands are meant to hold 

Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong 
Move along, move along like I know you do 
And even when your hope is gone 
Move along, move along just to make it through 

So a day when you've lost yourself completely 
Could be a night when your life ends 
Such a heart that will lead you to deceiving 
All the pain held in your 
Hands are shaking cold 
Your hands are mine to hold 

Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong 
Move along, move along like I know you do 
And even when your hope is gone 
Move along, move along just to make it through 
Move along 

When all you got to keep is strong 
Move along, move along like I know you do 
And even when your hope is gone 
Move along, move along just to make it through 

Right back what is wrong 
We move along

- The All American Rejects

A Little Piece of Silver

What's that?
In your hand?
It's like a little piece of silver
Cut from the moon, maybe.
No, it's just a shard of glass.
It's from that old china pitcher,
So lovely all that time ago.
But now the leftover fragments
Only cut
And sometimes look like yesterday.

Limits

Don't you know you can't jump it?
The edge is almost too far to see.
There are limits, you know?
But I guess you wouldn't
Know anything
About that.

Media Club Trip Vanquished

Alright, so I'm back from the media club trip with a few camera's and some dark room equipment I slipped into the bag... :P Kidding, kidding. But I did come back with some fun experiances, a roll of film I accidentally stole, and a German teacup I bought at a garage sale for 50 cents while everyone else wasted much more money on much less cool things in gift shops in Branson and Eureka Springs.

This weekend looks busy too, with Wendy's birthday party and.... *drum roll, please*, a return at long last to Arabic Church with the Mina's! I finally get to go again. o.O It seems like it's been forever, but I can't wait. And I heard their congregation about doubled with people getting away from the genocide in Darfur. And the guy who was blind last time can see now because they had a kind of surgery in the US that worked for him. Cool, eh? :)

Anyhow, in between these exciting events, I'll have long, slow, wonderful days in which to post on the blog, write, and maybe even get my apple cider. Ciao!

A Very Emo Speech

Consider this to be the approximate opposite to the other speech I posted recently. One of my friends, who, strangely enough, only acts emo on his Xanga, posted this:

"I am so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you will never be happy. I don't mean to hurt you by saying that. I say it because I think it is only fair that I be honest with you before we begin. I hope you appreciate this because no one will be fair or honest with you from here on out. So again, I'm telling you right now: You will never be happy. I've put it in writing for you, and you're very welcome.

I want you to go outside on the sunniest, sweatiest day of the year and quietly say it aloud. 'I will never be happy.' Even in the heat, you should be able to see your own cold, smoky breath acknowledge the statement. The only way to avoid seeing your breath is to say it proudly like a wise man. 'I will never be happy!' Try it sometime.

When I think of you, I think of a cartoon cloud hovering over your head, a private torrential downpour. I see you soaking wet, your entire being drooping, and you're always sick because you can't stay dry. Depressed by the bad weather, you cry yourself a little river, but the tears evaporate and form into another cloud that rains on you even more. You can't win.

It will be sad. You will never get the girl. You will not save the world. You will never find true love. You will not find a trustworthy friend. You will never be satisfied. You will never have enough. The grass could always be greener. The grass will always need mowing. Your days will be long and contain no fun. Your nights wil be lonely and not much else. You will always be waiting for better days that will never arrive. And you will most definitely never have peace of mind.

There will be days when you will collapse to your knees and screamingly plead your case to whatever might be listening. But The Thing Called God can't help you, and It won't. I think of heaven as being a radiant crystalline metropolis, and in the tallest sparkling skyscraper, The Mayor stays busy making deals behind a door with no knob. He's forever inaccessible, not taking calls at this time. And then I envision all the perfect blond angels, devoid of genitalia and feet, congregating and pointing and laughing at all of us down here, saying 'Those poor little things!' in between giggles. They will get a kick out of you.

We are more likely to answer or not answer your prayers than they. We will control your destiny and watch over you. Not gods or angels. Not the dead. Us. Men and women. Adults with tangled webs and hidden agendas. Former children.

We will allow you your needs but deny you your wants. We will see to it that any requirements for long-term happiness are kept just out of reach. If by some mistake you experience a sensation that resembles happiness, then by all means, embrace it for all it is worth. Make the most of it because we will not let it last.

Again, I'm sorry. It's true what they say. Life's not fair, especially for you. The only consolation I can offer is that the things you will be making amid all the loneliness and suffering will by far outlast your despair and our cruelty. Oru torture is temporary, your work is forever. With this in mind, we all win in the long run.

So on behalf of everyone that you will ever meet, I apologize in advance for every heartache we will cause. You're in for a rough time, kid. Consider yourself warned."

From the beginning of Torture the Artist by Joey

Celebration City

We went to Celebration City, a good time was had by all. Lots of rides, none of them were breathtaking, but that's life. Josh made things tons more fun by being so personable and talking to everyone, using his tie and t-shirt combination as a conversation starter more times than once.

At one point, we stopped and got drinks, then Will was like, "Oh, we have to run!" So we did, our drinks going everywhere. I had like a quarter of my lemonade left when we got there, and on the way I had spilled another quarter on Joshua's back. Sorry! :P

We pulled into the... I have no idea what the word is. They have a big clifflike wall, and they spray water up onto it, and then they project onto the water. Yes, we ran into there, and there was a very patriotic show. And actually, it was very good, because it even made me feel a little patriotic.

The first half was what I hate about patriotic shows, which means a lot of flag stuff... "Oh my god, we have a flag... let's flip out... a flag..." and lots of random stuff like dog's playing frisbee, as if to say that family value's and picnics are unique to America. Then there was sort of an intermission of army, navy, air force, marine, and coast guard propaganda, the worst part of the show, even in terms of cinematic quality.

Then things got better; they loosened us up with some singing (Elvis, the Beatles, the Supremes, things everyone knows) and some dancing (Cotton Eyed Joe, The Hokie Pokie, The Electric Slide, the Macarena, the Chicken Dance, things everyone can do). I was in such a good mood I even tried the most challenging dance they had, the twist. The results were embarrassing, but it was dark. And Alex (little kid) could jump so far! It was amazing, he looked like a Jackrabbit in the Cha Cha Slide. He must practice that.

So I was in a good mood when they got to what any patriotic show should, in my opinion, be made up of; things in our history and culture that we should be proud of as Americans. This part was the shortest, but at least it was there. Best line in the show was,

"Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!"

And I clapped, so did other people. Yay for History. About this time we saw some people we had talked to in front of the Ferris Wheel earlier. We recognized them by their bright red Cardinals outfits. The mother was a long time midwesterner, and visited Branson every year as a child. Her husband was Palestinian. They had the wonderful fortune to watch "Not Without my Daughter" on their wedding night... not the best choice, eh? :P But she laughed.

"No, he's Christian... so the biggest trouble I have with him is he want's me to name the kids like "Loufa" and I'm like, I'm not naming my daughter after a sponge. But his parents are Muslim and my parents are Jehova's Witness, so things do get interesting once in a while..."

Yes. That. That's what I've been looking for. Could it be I've found it where I never thought to look?

06-06-06 - The Onsite

So I stayed at a church today on 06-06-06, probably not the best place to be. :P Luckily, it was a small, low profile church. But it was Sue's birthday, which was a little scary. :P We figured as long as she wasent turning 6 or 60 or, god forbid, 66, we should be alright, and so we were. The brownines were a lot too rich, though... I suspect Barb dumped the entire thing of chocolate syrup into them. o.O

West County Wimps

On the impossibly short Canoe Trip, Josh and I would take point, then paddle upstream to the tail, then take point again several times. We also helped Mireille and Taylor when they flipped their canoe (on what, we're not quite sure). Josh even managed to get back into the canoe after he jumped out in the middle of the stream, which was no small accomplishment.

After all this, we still werent tired or sore. That shows what a short and flat river it was.

On the equally short hike, Alex and I held point the entire way, and we kept it at a very manageable pace. But everyone was crying and whining that they were sore and hungry and hot and tired and had to go to the bathroom, so we had to stop and wait every... eighth of a mile? About that. Bah. ;_;

Oh Canada... Will I survive long enough to get to you? I begin to wonder...

The Goose Girl

Who said the world was fair?

He loves her, but she loves another who loves nobody.
And her heart doesn't hurt, but her stomachs in a twisted knot.
She doesn't know where to go, because she's like the goose girl
Who puts too many eggs in one basket, and the basket throws itself
Off the cliff and into nowhere.

The Seven Heads

I think I've found the Seven Heads of my Dragon... now to drag it from it's comfortable school year lair, tame it, and put it to work. I'm not so pathetic as to believe in strange creatures called muses that drift through my head, but I do know that my writing moods don't always coöperate (i.e. editing mood when I have no rough material), and I intend to change that. :D

Plot
Charector
Editing
Pacing
Dialogue
Exposition
Background

A Good and Valid Speech

This is a great speech, especially read as well as Layla read it at our school's poetry slam... I'm sure the author was just brilliant with it.

Totally like whatever, you know?

In case you hadn't noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you're talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you're saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)'s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren't, like, questions? You know?


Declarative sentences -- so-called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true
as opposed to other things which were, like, not -
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It's like what I've heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?


What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally...
I mean absolutely... You know?
That we've just gotten to the point where it's just, like...
whatever!


And so actually our disarticulation... ness
is just a clever sort of... thing
to disguise the fact that we've become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since...
you know, a long, long time ago!


I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it, too.


© Taylor Mali 2005

Mortal Sins

Some things considered by the Magisterium of the Catholic Church to be ‘grave matters’ include adultery, murder, lust, missing mass on Sunday, perjury, incredulity, and the use of contraceptives. It is maintained in the current Catechism of the Catholic Church, which says in section 1035, "Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend into hell."

- Wikipedia

Are they being serious? I guess that's the only way they can make sure people come to church...

Seven Deadly Sins

So these are what we have to watch out for:

Ego-fixations & deadly sins

The Enneagram types have also been correlated with the traditional Seven Deadly Sins plus two additional descriptors - 'deceit' and 'fear'. The '7 sins + 2' need to be understood in a much more specific meaning than usual.

• One – Anger

Anger as a frustration in working hard to do things right, while the rest of the world doesn't care about doing things right and doesn't appreciate the sacrifice and effort made.

• Two – Pride

Pride as a self-inflation of ego, in the sense of seeing themselves as indispensable to others - they have no needs yet the world needs them.

• Three – Deceit

Deceit in the misrepresentation of self by marketing and presenting an image valued by others rather than presenting an authentic self.

• Four – Envy

Envy of someone else reminds this individual that they can never be what the other person is, reawakening a sense of self-defectiveness.

• Five – Avarice

Avarice in the sense of hoarding resources in an attempt to minimize needs from a world that takes more than it gives, thus isolating oneself from the world.

• Six – Fear

Fear often in the form of a generalized anxiety that can't find an actual source of fear yet may wrongly identify one through projection, possibly seeing enemies and danger where there are none.

• Seven – Gluttony

Gluttony not in the sense of eating too much, but instead, of sampling a taste of everything the world has to offer (breadth) and not taking the time for richer experience (depth).

• Eight – Lust

Lust in the sense of wanting more of what this individual finds stimulating to the point that most people would feel overwhelmed and say too much.

• Nine – Sloth

Sloth or laziness in discovering a personal agenda and instead choosing the less problematic strategy of just going along with others' agenda.

Keep Walking

The funny thing about loss is that all you have to do is keep breathing and keep walking to move through it.