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.

Shadows

We were with Tidbit.

"She was at the edge of the bed, about to jump off."

"She ought to be whipped." I said. "Flayed. Filleted. Pressed. Stretched. Scavenger's Daughtered. Drawn and Quartered. Boiled in Oil." Euthanized.

"You've been reading too many books."

"Alright, Tidbit. Go night night."

That's what we said to Tootsie, as we walked away.

"Go night night..."

"It'll get easier."

"I know."

"It's barely been a day."

"I know."

"I know you love deep."

Yes, I think that's so. I think I love too easily and too hard, too fast. It makes me vulnerable. It's by god's grace alone that I haven't seen more tragedy on so broad a field.

Perhaps for some people the heart is closer to the surface. Their shadows can escape.

Or maybe I'm just being vain.

Rest In Peace

I realize that I still have little to be sad about, compared with people who have lost so much. But the truth of the matter is that I used to have nothing to be sad about, and that this monthe began and ended with the first two heartbreaks of my life, and now I just want the crying and the hurt to be over.

Yesterday I had to put down I had to put my 8 year old Miniature Dachshund, Tootsie. I said goodbye to her and left; she's long gone by now. I won't bog you down with all the details, but she was fragile almost from birth, and her back gave out last fall. After surgery, she did alright for awhile, but had gone downhill lately, passed her recovery time. She was a good, sweet little dog, and we'll all miss her.

It hurts, but right now I just hope she's in a better place, although calling it without it being a black or white issue (like if she had really been in pain or paralyzed) was hard. And I'm glad to still have Tidbit; Tootsie was really my dad's dog, Tidbit's my baby.

It was a long goodbye, but telling them to end it was still hard.

Rest in Peace, Tootsie Roll Metheny.

Tootsie with Cousin Brian (Christmas 2004)

Love and Grief

Think not over much upon your fondness of anything; possession, creature, or human – for if you do you will begin to cling to it, and your eyes fill with tears for imagined hurts and sorrows, and your love will turn to grief in your heart.

Whoa... It's Summer...

Where'd school go? It just sort of vanished without a trace... there was no worrying about finals this years, for instance. No borderline grades! 3 good, solid B's that would take either a miracle or a disaster to change, 1 Golden and Shining H, and 3 A's to sort of round things out. Last year I got one more A (Damn the change in History teacher...), but I also got a C (Thank god I switched Math teachers). So, that's how it goes. The only grade I'm really dissappointed by is Biology. 89.3... that burns. It does. But, I really don't think I deserved an A. Well, I'm not sure. I just didn't expect one, at all. Thats what I mean. Ah! Confusing! I wish I had just known it was a B, no more questions...

Anyhow, for better or for worse, it's over... Sophomore year's behind me, and I'm feeling like a walking talking paradox. I feel at once empowered and enslaved; I'm free from school, and this is my last summer without working. At the same time, I still live with my parents, and... bah. Things all seem too close and too far away. Then every once in a while I still feel young and naive and pathetic, but that's fading, and I've been feeling old! Bah, I must have some sort of complex, I think. But I'll be an upperclassman in the fall... and just the other day I was a Freshman...

The mood today was not really rejoicing like in past years, nor was it full denial... it was kind of shock, like "Hwoah... It's summer... We're upperclassmen..." I asked Andrew how we got so old, and he said, "I Blame Wendy!" So, I guess we're still younger than I thought. I mean, after all we had riots on the bus about taking pictures. Crazy kids. And the Freshmen... they were bad enough at the bottom, but now they'll be Sophomores and think they're all that, and the upcoming Freshman are the famous Siphilis Sixth Graders. We'll be clinging to the... my god, they'll be Seniors now. And then they'll leave early, that'll be rough. I'm seeing my life flash in front of me here!

Good Morning Summer! Tomorrow I'll clean my room from top to bottom, make some apple cider, and go sit on the hammock, and maybe write. Goal 1, after all, is to Tame the Seven Headed Dragon... Yeah, I'll need to start on that.

06-06-06

http://norwaypost.no/cgi-bin/norwaypost/imaker?id=24859

I'm not sure why this amuses me...

An Evening at Tuckaho

A lot happens in a single evening at Tuckaho.

Time slows down. The things that so bothered you before are still present, but distant and faded. A wasp nest on the porch, a spider by your bed, it's no big deal. Move slowly. Do what you must for the day. Get up with the sunshine. Change exposed to the cool morning air. Feel the temperature move through you like you might as well not be there.

Off colour and cold bagels with peanut butter suddenly taste delicious, they taste fine.

There's a little field right outside the woods, with ivy and trees framing a glimpse of it. The grass is pale green and covered in dew, and there are several beautiful, pale gold bales of hay. When the morning mist goes through, it looks like a painting.

The trees are every colour of green. They arc above you like a Cathedral's great hall. I remember from Köln and Notre Dame, but suddenly that's long ago and far away. Suddenly I love my Missouri.

We sat at a picnic table and listened to the birds and the cicadas and crickets as the baton was slowly passed from spring unto summer. There's a glob of grape jelly on the mildewed wood. As we watch, a daddy longleg creeps towards it, watching us with shy and clustered eyes. We merely laugh as it advances towards the jelly. He's got a little sucker thing; it shoots out and sips up the jelly nanobit by nanobit. Entertainment for an hour. Roughly. However you reckon an hour.

We're sleeping in covered wagons. Four narrow bunks and an aisle in between. They're road worthy, believe it or not. Not just an oddly themed campsite. 25 years ago, a few of the older adults remember (as campers) the wagons being led in by real horses. Then they were laid out in a row for a few years, and you could run from one to another without touching the ground if you were good on your feet. Now they're traditionally placed around a campfire.

That's the closest to history we have, but wha'cha'gonna do? Antiquity isn't everything. Neither is the future. We think ten minutes ahead and ten seconds behind. I love camp.

Indio

哀しい歌をふいに思い出した
夏の毛布にもぐり込んだ夜なのに
冷たい雨に足を速めても
失くしたものに届かないと泣いていた 君の歌

家に帰る道では指を離ずに
遠い電車の音　優しい海鳴りに変えた
二人で

子供の頃に読んだIndioの南え
船の出る時間を二人ではら、書いたノート
乾いた風に翳り無い大陽
幻の大地を私だけが彷徨ってる　今も

君のくれたもの忘れたくなくて
遠い海鳴りに耳を澄ます
一人で

(Suddenly, I remembered a sad song
Though it was night, I went underwater in the blanket of summer
Even if I had quicken my pace in the cold rain,
I would cry if I didn't find something I lost...  your song.
In the way back home, without releasing your fingers in my mind,
The sound of the distant train changed into a gentle sea rumbling, Together with us.
I called out for you when I was a child, toward Indio's south
We were together before the ship left, then I wrote on my notebook
The sun was not clouded, in that dry wind.
Only I am wandering through the illusionary land, even now
I don't wanna forget what you haven given me,
And I'll listen carefully to the sea rumbling far away
On my own)

Vocabulary Change

"In some languages of the Pacific, using the name of a deceased chief is taboo. Amongst Australian Aboriginal people, it was forbidden to ever use the name or image of the deceased, so that today the Australian Broadcasting Commission publishes an apology to indigenous people for using names or images of people who have recently died. Since people are often named after everyday things, this leads to the swift development of euphemisms. These languages have a very high rate of vocabulary change. (Dyen, Isidore, A. T. James & J. W. L. Cole. 1967. Language divergence and estimated word retention rate. Language 43/1: 150-171.)"

- Wikipedia

Somebody to Love You

We go out to fold up the pool cover for the summer. It's sunny and hot. Not sunny and hot enough to do fun things like swim, just enough to make you uncomfortable and squinty and wish you had sunscreen. I'm kneeling bare legged in the grass and the itchies are crawling up their smooth shaved surfaces and making me want to scratch like crazy. The parents are playing music.

You need a job so you can make some money
You need a nice warm place to stay
A sense of humor cuz life is funny
A big stick to keep the wolves away
You need a car with good tires on it
And a right place to eat bar-b-que
A heavy duty set of jumper cables
No holes in your walkin shoes
The main thing you going to find you need
A fertile place to plant the seed

My dad's working with the hose and it goes through the fence and pins me against the ivy covered hill in my attempt to stay dry. Mom sits there in her swimsuit drinking drink of the day and she's in a good mood. "It's summer!" She yells. Thanks for noticing.

You got to find somebody to love you
Someone who’ll be there for you night and day
Someone to share it with, and be part of you
Love ain’t no good until you give it away
You’ve got to give it away

She's been a pill lately. Asking me why I couldn't have grown a few more inches. Telling me I might have to go to plus sizes in the children section if we can't find more size zeroes. The irony of a 90 pound plus size should amuse me, but she treats it like something to be ashamed of, like a punishment.

I recommend you get some life insurance
Be prepared to dial 911
Pay close attention to your high blood pressure
Stay away from the man with the gun
You need a reason to get up in the morning
Be sure your clocks got a snooze control
Be sure you got a place to run for cover now
Over night things can sure get cold
You going to find out sooner or later
You need a common denominator

She tells me I have no good friends, never will. She says she wonders why I'm thin and pretty and funny and not even as selfish as I used to be and yet I have no friends. Well, I have lots of friends. Just no real close ones. No friends like the type she had in high school, that she still hops down to Memphis with occasionally. Then she tells me I have to dumb down if I want friends.

You got to find somebody to love you
Someone who’ll be there for you night and day
Someone to share it with, and be part of you
Love ain’t no good until you give it away
You’ve got to give it away

I'm forced to consider the fact that her insults may be no sharper than before; it may simply be that I was once too strong to let them get to me. But that leaves me weak and vulnerable, and it's so self perpetuating. Stian, Tootsie, Mom, Finals. All in a deadly row. I keep trying to get on top of it. I know that someday, maybe in college, I'll find a place I belong. A place where I'm not only accepted, but wanted. But it seems a long way off sometimes.

I feel like playing Grab Bag

Alright, so I have 33 language CD's, and I feel like taking out some of them. Now, I'm divided. Should I reinforce something I'm already learning, work on something useful, or go crazy and pick something random like Tibetan or Taglog or Zulu? Now, I'll warn you right now that this package includes most languages you would think of except Xhosa, Manx, Danish, Hawaiian, Papiamentu, Urdu, Icelandic and Welsh. And it doesn't have any Native American language either. So, tell me if you have a better idea than swinging my finger around and picking one!

Go on Strongly

I can finally put words to how much I love you. I love you more than I love us, and in the end, no matter how it hurts me, I want you to be happy. I want you to feel so good, even if it means I get the raw end of the deal - nothing. I want you to be as happy as you were with me, and thats more important than how you get there. So whether it's me after all (who knows, fate may bring us together again, in our college years) or someone entirely different (someone tall and beautiful and perfect for you), I'm confident that you'll find your place in the world. You're too amazing not to - the most amazing person I've ever known.

I don't know who's stronger anymore. Is it me for being stubborn and immovable, and holding against out little 'test of patience' with everything I had, or you for realizing that maybe not every test is worth passing, and that some things are hard to live without, but harder to live with?

We're young, so we should be wild and free. You don't deserve to be tied to a computer all summer with half the girls at your school beating a path to your door. So go on, go on strongly. But don't forget me, forget me or ever stop loving me for what I gave you, if half the things you said we're true. First love, confidence, courage, faith... you even claimed, once or twice, that I may have saved your life. You came out of this a stronger person, and I, perhaps, a weaker o ne. I can't think of a pillar of my life that hasn't been shaken since we ended our time together. But even so, I'm glad. So go on strongly.

A Visit From the Sun

The sun woke me up yesterday morning. The birds sang as the sunbeams sifted through the window. They reached my eyelids a few minutes before the day met my ears, and I woke up happily, naturaly. I've learned a few things. Sometimes the sun doesn't stay for long. So I savoured it's visit.

Maternal Flip Out

Yesterday was Mother's Day. Mom came home with ice cream, we all ate it and played Tripoly and had a great time. Then she flipped out. Since then, she's been dictating every aspect of my life, and really going into hysterics if I try to debate anything. She's been saying that I've decided I can do "Whatever the hell I want" and that I "Don't do anything she asks me to do."

Example: Today she called me downstairs and told me to check the laundry to see if it was dry. I did so, it was still pretty damp, so she told me to put it on high and give it more time. 15 minutes later, she checks it and it's dry. She decides this means I was lying to avoid work, because it obviously couldn't have been wet fifteen minutes ago. So she decides I have to fold half of it, and my sister has to fold half of it. Fine. We start to fold. I've folded 2 out of the 3 pairs of Jeans when she yells at us to start folding in another room. No reason. We have to go in the living room where she's watching some sort of horrible horror thing I really do not feel up to. Then she really gets weird, yelling at me as my sister folds the last pair of jeans that I'm somehow making her do all the 'real' work. Then she tells Melissa to dump all the laundry out of the bucket and onto the ground. Melissa asks why, and she's just like "BECAUSE I SAID SO". I ask her why she's controlling every move we make, since it's actually getting to the point where it's impeding our progress. She tells me if I open my mouth again I'll lose my (self bought and paid for) cell phone for a monthe.

What am I supposed to do with her? Hopefully this will pass soon, but she's really gotten uncontrollable. I didn't even want to come home from school today, to be honest. o.O Normally, there's at least some sort of underlying reason that she's ticked at me or at life in general. I really don't know what that would be, I can only hope there is one, that she's not going as batty as her own mother is. (For reference, I have never been taken to meet her, and never will be.)

Normal? :P

Every once in a while, I feel like the path is hidden from me. The sun goes out and I cant find the way. But then it shines again, and I just try to keep going when the fog moves in. So what am I now? Not emo anymore, but not the sunny, indomitable Miranda of yesteryear. Am I normal? :P

Tidbit

She's just too much in her little coat, you know! :D

And So it Came to Pass

And so it came to pass that Miranda's Emo Week subsided into her pit of eternal memory. I can't say I'm pleased with how things turned out, but I've come to terms with them. Two years, after all, is a long time when you are only sixteen. And I'm happy, because what I had can never be taken away; it was and always will be. I'll never forget my first love.

Hats

Laura and I looking fabulous. ^^

Happy Miranda Baby

Because I needed a happy post, and Smiling Babies = Happy. Normal me returns tomorrow, but I needed this as a bookend to my emo-ness. Yay for coherance and grammar. Ciao! (In Sisterly combos, I am the one on the left.)

The Process of Elimination

The way I see it, there are three ways to live your life. You can live your life for the past, you can life your life for the present, or you can live your life for the future.

Living life for the past is clearly the worst option, looking objectively, but it is resiliently seductive. It's lame. It's like the poor Spanish woman that cries to go home and the has-been always searching for what he'll never be again. It doesn't make sense, but that robs it of none of it's potency. There are times we all live in the past. I'm as guilty of it as anyone. More so, even.

Living life for the future seems the most noble cause. But what future are you living for? Fame? Fortune? Family? Bettering the world, okay, but what will really stand the test of time? A thousand years from now, who will remember your goals, your ambitions, your desires? There are a select few of us, probably already hand picked by fate, who the world may remember. For the rest of us, forget our emotions; the world will have long forgotten our names, our faces, and our prescence.

So I'll live my life for the present. It's not selfish or shallow or even shortsighted, it's just the process of elimination. And I recall a quote from Spanglish:

"I live my life for myself. You live your life for your daughter. None of it works."

Seventh Grade Rain

Before we had lost anything. Before we had anything to lose. That’s when we played in the rain. That’s when the rain started coming down hard one day at Blue Mountain, and I wanted to write and one girl wanted to draw and all the rest of them went out in droves. That was the year we all had beaver sticks; smooth staves with the bark all chipped off. A little sixth grader with short skirts and shirts that reveal too much of nothing stood on the dam with hers in hand, the water splashing off her bare skin. You can see the rain moving over the lake like a wave. They revel in it because they can. Cao’s shirt says, “Flavour of the Month”, and is soaked through beneath her exuberant face. Christy screams at me how her shorts are sopping and her shirt is nearly dry. The rain ends as quickly as it began, and those who don’t already have enough wet wallow shamelessly in the puddles and the fat drip-drops coming off the roof. I allow a small smile, and that takes over. Then a part of me remembers, or else a part of me forgets.

Were You Right?

You were right. It’s not something you choose. To be happy or sad. To remember or to forget. There’s no choice here; no simple diffusion, disintegration, radiation. The thoughts and dreams I always trusted on are nothing now but endorphins, a chemical keeping the hurt at bay. But the pain is nothing if not patience. And it waits. It waits until it finds a hole and it creeps inside of you, burning and acidic, and you’re too tired to fight it again, and again. You let it take you.

I thought I knew things. I thought I knew a lot of things. Do I know nothing at all? I’m the strange one, with a soul that doesn’t let go and the ghosts of a thousand memories hanging around me. Everything from the silly maybe make-believes to the highly coloured hardships. Am I holding onto them, or are they haunting me? Were you right? A thousand dreams deferred… do they really explode? Or do they hang around, the shape of fog and mist, holding everything down to the safety of earth like the silver threads of a spider’s silk?

I want to let go. I don’t want to remember. But you were right.

You were right about joy. You were right about sorrow. You were right about love. There are no rules for love. It doesn’t go away when it isn’t wanted; it doesn’t come when it is called. So were you right about the rest? Were you right about fear, and longing, and worthlessness?

I want to run, not walk. I want to sing, not talk. I want to dance, I want to fly, I want to be a reed in the wind. I want to trust like I've never been betrayed; I want to love like I've never been hurt. I want to do all the things I can only do once; I want to do them hard, and fully, and truly, and deeply, like I'm too stupid to know better. Or were you right?

Fiesta!

There was a Fiesta today. An end of the year party merged with Cinco De Mayo. We had homemade cookies that were like the soft sugar cookies with sweet, no semi, chocolate chunks. We had two quesadilla makers going and pumping out crisp pockets of melted cheese onto glass platters. We had mint chocolate chip ice cream, melting as fast as we could eat it off paper plates with plastic forks. We had spicy queso with tortilla chips.

I sat with Natalia Solis and Jenny Runk and Inandra Harris. I disdainfully informed them that I wouldn't have any spicy queso, because I liked to eat healthy. They began to object before I rolled my eyes and pointed down to my heaping bowl of ice cream; then they knew it was okay. We told stupid stories and jokes. Stupid lines from Xenon on the Disney Channel, mysteriously telling people not to get on the plane at an airport, new meanings of Acabar and Bacalao, and the drawbacks to mispronouncing "Comparto tu pena."

Then the Piñata. Dangerous to have inside, with high school male atheletes no less. One year Sra. tied it to the delicate ceiling panels and brought down half the roof. She's smarter now. Once, secretly, she climbed up into the ceiling, to the rafters, and tied a thick cord around a steel beam. Now we reach up with a yard stick and shift the panel. The bungee slithers down, and we attach the Piñata to it. This one's no weak necked burro. Es una estrella grande y magnifica.

First a few girls swing at it. They are sweet looking, blonde girls who helped organize the party. We let them take lot's of swings; none of them do too much. The one holding the Piñata rope raises it higher and then lower. He taunts them by poking them gently in the face with a ray of the star, then sending it flying to earth and they strike out at it. More often than not, they hit only rope.

But the class only lasts so long. We call in the heavyweights, the atheletes. Sra. tells them that they are not to let go of the bat, no matter what. She's taking a risk doing this, don't make her regret it. She has to tie the scarf around their eyes, spin them around and make them dizzy. She's five foot tall, like I am. They go down on their knees so she can reach.

They kneel with the baseball bat as though she's knighting them. It's quite a picture as Sra. stands on the toes of her size 5 shoes to make the knot. Someone laughs that theyre the same height with the boys on their knees. She yells at them in Spanish, and we all laugh, no matter whether or not we heard the joke. We love her, and we love each other, or at least don't like each other in a way that's so well understood it's close enough to love. We laugh, and I'm happy. Not for the first time, I wonder if these aren't the happiest days of my life after all.

Chocolate begins to fall as they swing. It's sweet, no semi.

Wo Bist Du?

Ich liebe dich...
Ich liebe dich nicht...
Ich liebe dich nicht mehr...
Ich liebe dich nicht mehr oder weniger als du...
Als du mich geliebt hast...
Als du mich noch geliebt hast...

Die schönen Mädchen sind nicht schön,
Die warmen Hände sind so kalt,
Alle Uhren bleiben stehen,
Lachen ist nicht mehr gesund und bald,

Such ich dich hinter dem Licht
Wo bist du?
So allein will ich nicht sein
Wo bist du?

- Rammstein

Ne Hospes Plane Veniam

Quare, etsi, cum tu haec leges, ego iam annuum munus confecero, tamen obvisae mihi velim sint tuae litterae, quae me erudiant de omni re publica, ne hospes plane veniam. Hoc melius quam tu facere nemo potest....

Why, by the time you read this, I will have already finished my years duty, however I want your letters to be accessible to me, that they might inform me of all public things, that I might not come, clearly a guest. No one can do this better than you.

We spent all hour today translating a short passage of five lines. "Home" The City, Cicero. At his wit's end, our teacher made a decision. We'd work through it as best we could, with the harder words, the one's he didn't know, circled; with helpful hints below, with certain passages underlined and rephrased for breaking so many rules it was hard to expect us to keep them straight.

Fourth Years, now, and we don't feel like it. I'm ten times as confident a German speaker in my first year, and I'm rapidly approaching a similar reading level. My vocabulary is, admittedly, at a decent level, but all we read is scholars and poets, and they use words that render all of our knowlege to nothing. They eschew all the words one has already learned, each poet, we learn, having his own vocabulary suited to his needs. We learn that in any decent Latin dictionary, they will tell you who uses each word, and how often. It's quite a common word that gets used by more than 2 or 3 people more than so many times. Something like one of the forms of "and" might aspire to this achievement, but none others. Then it is that when you look up a word, there are a thousand translations to choose from. A passage originally translated (with confusion) as "Atrocious Blind Origin" turns out to mean, "From light beginnings, a savage murder arose."

So now these hints, and lines written out in proper word order, because only the Romans could keep straight 7 cases (Nominative, Vocative, Genitive, Dative, Accusative, Ablative, and Locative) * 5 declensions * 3 genders for a total of 105 hardly unique but utterly patternless noun endings and make sense of sentances in their original, convoluted order. So where hoc melius quam tu facere nemo potest was written, pencilled in above is nemo potest hoc facere quam tu.

The nasty peice of work turns out to mean (quite obviously in the reworked version), No one can do this better than you. Thanks for the subliminal encouragement, Cicero. But really. I don't want to need hints to read a language I'm supposed to be becoming proficient in. But I do, and it kills me.

"Sed Quamobrem!?" I want to ask. But I dare not. They will guess what I have said, and fail, and it will hurt worse than not saying anything in this language at all. So instead I say, "But Why? What can the purpose be of putting the sentance on it's head like this?"

And so the teacher tries to explain, or maybe tries to understand, but he fails at one if not the other as he tries to say that it makes the line more interesting, that in one word at the beginning he connects to the sentance before, that the compliment must come afterwards, and everything else flops down, exhausted, at the end. It makes a compelling story, but I almost have to wonder if it's not just an excuse.

Maybe I'm stupid, maybe we're all stupid and that's why we fail. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I didn't see, for a moment, that searching look in the teachers eyes as he tries to make sense of it all for one of us. Was he searching? Was he searching for a student to understand? Or for himself? For how he got into all of this, and where he lost the way?

Ne Hospes Plane Veniam... But we are all guests, even the guide.

A Break in the Rain

We looked out through a break in the rain and some idiot asked, "Why is the waterfall falling so fast?"

"Because it's been raining for a month now straight," Mrs. Dean says. She's not far off. It's been stormy lately; thunder and lightning if we're lucky, tornado's if we're not. Off and on, but unrelenting, since that day we hurried home from the lake with the twisters on our tail.

Before that it was nice, though. We had a sunny early spring. The flowers came out one by one, and I noticed them all for the first time this year. I watched the leaves explode into broad or skinny and shapely bunches from tiny buds and bare branches before.

But though the branches were bare, the winter was mild too. The warmest January on record, with only a few days showing their teeth at 8 degrees. We even had a day so warm we walked around in shorts and stuck our feet in the lake.

And I noticed all the colours last fall, too. Before that stretched a lazy summer. A year of my life. Brief, in such terms. So what does that make this break in the rain?

Independancy

I almost hesitate to write this for fear that I'll wake up tomorrow a wreck again, but I think I've found myself and might cut my emo week short. I developed a dependancy, see, and it was wrested away for better or for worse. It's nice to have something to lean on, I'm not saying it's not, and for them to lean back on you can be the most amazing thing in the world. But these things have to work two ways or theyre not something Miranda does. Living with the sun itself is amazing, but part of you always fears that the sun might go away. There was something in living for someone, and having someone live for me, but as I start being self contained once again, theres a peace of mind in that, too. :D

Miranda's Emo Week

This coming week, I will be more emo than I have ever been in my life, and ever hope to be after. Those of you following closely will kindly regard April 23, 2006 as part of this week and not a seperate instance of pathetic teen angst, as this event had already started then, but I was kindly lied to and told to ignore it.

The River

But I remember us riding in my brother’s car,
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir.
At night on them banks I’d lie awake,
And pull her close just to feel each breath she’d take.
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse.
Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true?
Or is it something worse, that sends me
Down to the river, though I know the river is dry,
That sends me down to the river tonight?

- Bruce Springsteen, The River

Toda la culpa

4/21/2006		8:19:14 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Yesterday I went hungry all day until 8 pm
4/21/2006		8:19:19 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		Aiaiai
4/21/2006		8:19:20 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		That's bad
4/21/2006		8:19:28 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Yeah, and most of it was your fault :P
4/21/2006		8:19:39 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Sí
4/21/2006		8:19:40 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		I deny my guilt
4/21/2006		8:19:48 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Tu tienes toda la culpa
4/21/2006		8:19:51 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Tu sabes es cierto
4/21/2006		8:19:52 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Bueno
4/21/2006		8:19:54 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Ha det!
4/21/2006		8:19:55 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		^^
4/21/2006		8:20:08 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		Jeg elsker deg
4/21/2006		8:20:13 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Jeg elsker deg også
4/21/2006		8:20:24 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Jeg skal savne deg?
4/21/2006		8:20:32 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		Ja, det skal du faen meg!
4/21/2006		8:20:41 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		:P
4/21/2006		8:20:54 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		I'll miss the happy shirt
4/21/2006		8:21:01 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Its not for that long
4/21/2006		8:21:04 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		;)
4/21/2006		8:21:05 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		And the tongue action
4/21/2006		8:21:07 AM		Elindomiel (*)		Aryndil		Ha det
4/21/2006		8:21:15 AM		Aryndil		Elindomiel (*)		Ha det, kjæreste

My Name

My last name is unpleasant. It comes from French, which is disturbing, because I am not French. Well, I probably have one line of Frenchness that happened to go straight through a male line. It’s intriguing when you stop to consider exactly what must have happened to get you a certain last name. One single female is enough to break the chain. Females are the weakest link. However, it is largely due to the females that I do not have hairy legs today. Other than being French for a fancy estate that my family of hobos, hillbillies, and horse thieves could not have owned, Metheny is unpleasant because the spell check continues trying to change it to the word Methane. Even with its constant self assured righteousness, it might not know how right it is. I will not expand further.

Miranda is a better name. Miranda comes from the gerundive of the Latin verb Mirari, to wonder at. This is the same root that brings us Miraculous and Milagros (which would be my name if I was a real Mexican because it is more ethnic). Baby name books fondly translate my name as Strange but Wonderful. Others have suggested the term “Easily impressed.” When you consider, however, the fact that I will swoon over anyone who can speak Serbo-Croatian, this would tend to lend force to the second argument. Tracing Miranda through Hebrew, a daunting task, brings the definition “Bitter”. Again, another name shares this root. This time it is the name Miriam.

I like the way my name is said in Spanish. The r is nice and pretty, the mi is nice and soft, and the anda combination, so troublesome in English, stays out of everyone’s way. In English, the r makes a growling sound, the a is heartily diphthongs, and loud obnoxious people say “aynduh”. This annoys me to no end. Of course, the Norwegians pronounce my name the same way as the Spanish. I have not tested my name on Germans or on African clicky people. In Japanese it is okay, even if it sounds like Milanda half the time.

END

The Colour Red

When I was out walking today, I noticed several beautiful trees whose leaves were a deep, blood red. I stared at the first one I saw for a few moments, marvelling at the colour itself. I continued walking only to find three or four more, each a slightly different shade. Most were small and delicate, but one was as tall at an average oak. The shades of colour simply captivated me, and I think that I am rediscovering red in the same way I rediscovered green early in the springtime.

Do you Speak English?

This is absolutely delicious:

http://rapidshare.de/files/19291668/Do_U_Speak_English.wmv.html

A Proper May Day

This is better; the first day of May was a rainy dissappointment, but it's doing better now. Today was a proper may day. The sky was blue and the leaves were green, and it was hot. Not hot like it gets down here in the middle of summer, of course. Not killing people hot, but hot enough that in a T-shirt I could feel the heat. It's always a little uncomfortable at first, late spring, just as the wet coolness of late fall can be. But soon, I know, it will fade into days of being wet and free and laughing down at the pool or by the lake, feeling absolutely drenched in sunlight. :D Spring's been great, but now that school is promising a withdrawel, On with summer!

Hope and Tissues

I cleaned up the mountain of tissues by the side of my bed yesterday. I thought it was a rather hopeful action; if I thought I'd add another layer of limestone or sedimentary that night, I'd do no such thing. I uncovered several books and a ponytail holder in the monumental undertaking, and by the end my nose was itching at all the dust I had stirred up. So I had no real reason to be hopeful, but if I did, would it really be hope?

April Showers... May Flowers?

We certainly had our share of the rainy season, now where are our posies? :P First of May yesterday, and it rained on all day, culminating with thunder and lightening later so I couldn't shower until this morning. I fear my perfect 4 season, 12 monthe state has lost it's touch...

Outlet Bookstore!

Down at the lake, they have a nice little outlet mall. Not that little, really; it looks humble sized from the street, but goes back a ways. There are all sorts of stores, from a chocolate 'factory' to kitchen appliances and "Claire's". In the summer, I remember, they have a little cart that you can buy pretzels from. I had a nice time shopping there on the Tantara trip in 8th grade.

When we went this weekend, it was raining and dreary, and instead of Laura and the rest of the choir I was with Grandma and Great Aunt Betty. But it was still lovely, of course, because we stopped by the outlet bookstore. It has great prices, although almost all of the books are hardcover. I picked up some good deals, and most of them will probably even turn out to be decent books. :P

For 2-3 dollars a-piece, I added three volumes to my oxford pocket reference series: a biographical dictionary, a dictionary of etymology (fascinating), and a guide to Egyptian Mythology. I'm not sure quite where I'll use the latter, but I'm female and I have a weakness for sales. :P

I've been meaning to read some alternative history, and a fellow named Turtledove seemed to have good reviews, so I picked up two hardcover books from him: One assuming Japan took over Hawaii in World War II, and one assuming Nazi Germany succeeded to take over an empire, with the book set in alternative 2010 or thereabouts. I've started on the Nazi one, and I like it a lot so far. The heavy use of German phrases is lovely seasoning for a freak like me, and the other book seems to have as much Japanese. Yay! :D

Then I got "Ancestors of Avalon", because I've been impressed with the other books in that series, and it was only 1.50$ for a book that would be roughly ten times as much at home. From the same rack, which was all 50% off the lowest marked price, I got a book called "Talisman" which is about "Gnostics, Freemasons, Revolutionaries, and the 2000 year old Conspiracy at work in the world today." Even if half of it is rather questionable, it looks to be interesting.

So, I have good reading now. ^^ Wish me joy, and I'll try to review the books for you!

I'm off to the lake

I'm off to the lake. Again. It's getting a tad old, going all the time, but once I'm there I'll love it again.

Allergy Pity Post

Control Crisis

My sister's having a major control crisis. After she was on the computer an hour after her time had ended, I came in to take it. She was listening to a loud and abnoxious song and playing solitaire. So she was like, "Not until this song's over" Normally I'd let her finish her song, but I could hear it all through the house and it was bugging the crap out of me. Additionally, her tone implied "Moms not home, Dad doesn't know the time slots, what are you going to do about it?" So I told her it wasn't for her to decide. Still, she sat there and waited until the song was over. Then I took the mouse to sign her out. She literally hissed and grabbed my hand and flung it away, being like "I can do it myself!" Obviously, I grabbed her hand back, and she started saying, loudly enough to be heard all throughout the house. "LET ME GO RIGHT NOW." She was actually furious. So I didn't let her go until she could say it calmly, which took several (6-7) attempts. Then she goes, "FINE!" and flings the mouse as far as it could go on its cord, shoves me aside, and slams the door behind her. She stomped into her room, where there was a gigantic crash and a picture or two fell off the wall. O.o She's been getting worse every day. Someones got issues.

Depression

In the car, my dad said he felt depressed. It was when no cheerful remark came to me that I realized I wasn't so happy either, and my mood depreciated over the next couple of hours, filled with homework, worrying, mild annoyance, and disappointment. I've worked most of the weekend, but that's not the bad thing. The bad thing is that when there hasn't been work there hasn't been play, either. Only work, and not work. Theres a ton of work for school; all in that awful level of 'mini project' assignments that are too small to immerse yourself in, but more work than a normal assignment. We're reading books and writing essays I have no passion for; I feel so burned out in a passive, stupid sort of way that I can't say I really even care about the Spanish project (which was designed to be quite fun). On top of that, I'm exhausted (late nights last week, and no sleeping in this weekend), and the allergies are draining my energy steadily. Everything's just kind of blah... coldish and wettish and empty.

Dansko

I was buying shoes the other day, and one of the brand names, Dansko, caught my interest. I kept meaning to ask if it was a danish shoe (No reason, -shifty eyes-) but the salesman was too pushy to shut up for a second, and when he did ringing up the order I wasted the chance to ask for a tissue. Anyhow, I looked it up, and it does! Weird, maybe I should look into these random hunches more often... Brand names have to come from somewhere, you know.

Wings

Can you feel the things I feel with you?

I think I have wings.

Life is a dream, I pass through smiling...

But with perfection inside and out.

I'm so happy...

I feel like my heart is overflowing...

Simple and Clean

Simple and clean is the way that you're making me feel tonight...
It's hard to let it go.

The daily things,
That keep us all busy,
Are confusing me.

Thats when you came to me...
And I,

Wish I could prove I love you
But does that mean I have to walk on water?
When we are older you'll understand
It's enough when I say so,
And maybe somethings are that simple...

When you walk away
You don't hear me say please,
Oh baby, don't go,
Simple and clean is the way that you're making me feel tonight.
It's hard to let it go...

Hold me
Whatever lies beyond this morning
Is a little later on
Regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all
Nothing's like before...

- Simple and Clean, Utada Hikaru

Spring Green

Spring has come overnight, and green is everywhere! I took some lovely pictures of my yard and the commons.

Simplicity vs. Familiarity

I've never played around with Indonesian or any of the languages considered truly "EASY" any more than I've touched the ones labled truly "HARD" such as Hungarian. As far as I'm concerned, in the languages I'm learning, it's a clear choice which is the simplest; Spanish puts on a tough act with scary words like Subjunctive, but its so easy underneath it all. Pretty, too.

I thought I'd challenge myself with German. But although it feels totally different, it feels so right, too. I feel like I've always used the German past tense. I learned it yesterday. (officially, that is; I've known a self-constructed pigdin form for at least a year; probably beginning when I read the list of irregulars off the board from the previous class.) Yesterday, and yet it comes more easily to me than Spanish's preterite, imperfect, et cetera - or even the difference between. It just feels totally natural to say the whole have part, thats understandable; but it seems just as obvious to add the ge- and all. I get to thinking we do that in English. Weird.

Ich habe gekauft. Ich habe gegessen. Ich habe fotografiert. Ah, I could sit here all day. :P

If this keeps up, my only problem in German will be a lingering hatred of Gender that doesnt roll over and bare its belly the moment it sees you... (I love you Spanish, with your O's and A's) and, of course, the word Ikke... Which initially struck me as different, but threatens, and nearly suceeds, to get out of my mouth every time I mean to say nicht.

The Last Shall Be First...

Apparently, the Racquetball society has gotten religious. It started the awards ceremony with a prayer, and then proceeded to follow the popularized scripture: "The last shall be first and the first shall be last."

As you all know, if you read my lovely blog as regulars, ;) I got the lowest trophy given by Missouri High School Racquetball or whatever it's called. Bah, whatever, it's still a trophy. But it meant that they started the awards ceremony with me. Being first, I had no idea where to go or what to do. First I walked towards the trophy and took it. That was right. Then I thought I returned to my seat. That was wrong. I didn't get that far, though. All the other judges, waiting to present trophies to their people, were standing in a seemingly expectant line. I went towards them helplessly, wondering if they wanted me to shake their hands. Lots of trophy things are like that, after all.

They were like, "Sure, why not." and took my hand. Bastards. They might have pointed or something. No, they indulged in my idiocy. But I knew something was off. I backed up. "Mark!" I hissed. "Where do I go?" He's half laughing at me, and says, "We'll get you back over there. I know it's hard." I'm smiling, holding my trophy, and thinking wtf? The second girl gets her trophy and Mark says, "Hide behind her and follow her back."

So I did. And then I was so humiliated I half hid behind Kate for the rest of it. Apparently, no one in the audience really noticed, but they could have given us the low-down on what to do, couldn't they have? I feel so... sacrificed.

Edit: It's still a shiny trophy :P

Summer Resolutions!

1. Start RPing again. Yes, it's a waste of time by some standards. But its far less so than playing video games, which I fear Ive started to take its place. And, it will bring my English back up to speed. It's been sinking steadily for a while now. Today I couldn't bring up the word Copious, for god's sakes. Luckily, I wasn't in a conversation or anything.

2. Get into shape. I lovingly remember my four pack. It's gone. Now I have a 1-pack. No, not economy size - it's mercifully a single serving. But I'd like some definition.

3. Stop disappointing Mrs. Hirayoshi. She's so nice to teach me Japanese, I need to at least study the stuff she teaches me. Remember, Miranda, Japanese is not Norwegian, and you cant brainlessly guess every word and have them be right 90% of the time. (On that note, I'm still cross about 'travel')

4. Accomplish the previous 3 goals without disturbing current patterns. I have to maintain all my friendships and keep up my grades throughout.

^^ Wish me luck!

Lake Time

I thought I was above such things, but here I am; back in St. Louis, still on Lake Time. I have school tomorrow. I have an inbox full of email. I have languages to pick back up. I know all this, but part of me is still at the lake, up on the cliff with the cool wind and the unbelievably blue sky, the grey rocks nestled in gold grass, or under a pine in the park, looking out onto the lake from the lush, damp grass. It is... adjusting for daylights savings and everything else, 9:24 PM. That gives me approximately 9 hours to adjust to my real life style. ¡Que lastima!