Not Dead Yet

Just lettin' you guys know that....

-Those who have not swords can still die upon them.

Ho boy! If life would simply slow down long enough to sleep! Cut off one foe, and another rises to take his place. Yeah, we find trusty and true comrades in the fight, but one can't help wishing for the banter after the battle, for time to make sense of all the hairs-breadth escapes and to appreciate the sacrifices made, time to laugh wearily at former fears and rest until the body and mind can hold no more.
Alas, school anon approacheth: truce, anyone?

(Speaking of frivolousness...No, this was not supposed to make sense or communicate anything deep.)

Choices, choices, choices.

'k guys. I'm trying to decide which poems to declaim for the Fair. They have to be related either by topic or author. Last year I did Scottish poets. This year I'm loosely using the topic of "Poetic Reflections on Character" (made by me).

I know I want to declaim:
How did you Die?
If
Nobility

Those are the first three poems below and require about 5 minutes. I could fill two minutes more, but I can't decide which poem to add of the ones I've typed out below. My least favorite of the options below is Be Strong and I figure that Not in Vain is probably pretty 'run of the mill'. But I can't decide between Polonius' Advice to Laertes and Waiting. I like Waiting a little more, but I don't know whether good ole Polonius fits with the topic better. I need some advice.

So please speak up and declare to me your wisdom!

How Did You Die?
Edmund Vance Cooke

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that!
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there--that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight--and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?




If
Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!


Nobility
Alice Cary
True worth is in being, not seeming,--
In doing, each day that goes by,
Some little good – not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their blindness,
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There’s nothing so kingly as kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth.

We get back our mete as we measure –
We cannot do wrong and feel right,
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight, for the children of men.

‘Tis not in the pages of story
The heart of its ills to beguile,
Though he who makes courtship to glory
Gives all that he hath for her smile.
For when from her heights he has won her,
Alas! it is only to prove
That nothing’s so sacred as honor,
And nothing so loyal as love!

We cannot make bargains for blisses,
Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses
Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by, is all.

Through envy, through malice, through hating,
Against the world, early and late,
No jot of our courage abating –
Our part is to work and to wait.
And slight is the sting of his trouble
Whose winnings are less than his worth;
For he who is honest is noble,
Whatever his fortunes or birth.




Not in Vain
Emily Dickenson

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.


Be Strong
Maltbie Davenport Babcock

Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle – face it; ‘tis God’s gift.

Be strong!
Say not, “The days are evil. Who’s to blame?”
And fold the hands and acquiesce – oh shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God’s name.

Be strong!
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not – fight on! Tomorrow comes the song.



Waiting
John Burroughs

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea;
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my hast, I make delays –
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me,
No wind can drive my bark astray
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

Polonius’ Advice to Laertes
(from Hamlet)
William Shakespeare

There, -- my blessing with you!
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. –Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion’d thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But no expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
Ad it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Adolescence of the Adiaphoron

My dearest reader,

You've stuck with me for a year and a half now. I've rambled, ranted, philosophized, picturized, and poeticized. After writing 245 posts, a fraction of which I've actually posted, over two years of intense personal change between the ages of 16 and 18, it is time for my blog to come of age.

Up until now, I've written pretty much whatever I wanted in whatever form at whatever time with no obviously intended purpose. Sometimes I've been pretty childish about it, and I'm not proud of it all. On the other hand, I've stayed within a fairly narrow range of topics which I guessed would be acceptable to those who might read the blog and refrained from those which might provoke disagreement or antagonism. It's time for both of these to be revisited.

I'm about to create guidelines for myself and my reader pertaining to the writing and reading of this blog. Once these are in place, I plan to launch a series of blog posts dealing honestly with thoughts on Feminity, connections between thought, act, and spirit, and other topics I've previously been hesitant to comment on. At the same time as I allow myself greater freedom topically, I'm going to reign in a bit of the disorganized ranting, steam-blowing, and emoting - at least channel it through more orderly expression.

The Adiaphoron is growing up, just like I am. It's a slow evolution, but necessary. I need discipline and so does my writing. Greater freedom calls for greater restraint and guidelines to employ that freedom properly.

Let's see how this experiment works!

Sincerely,
TruthQuestioner

Lithuania: Part I

Laubas, people!

At the beginning of our European adventure, I halfheartedly attempted to journal about the happenings each day, but our host packed things so tight that I had absolutely no time to record everything properly, nor energy after the day finally ended.

So, with Elle’s help (who, by the way, journalled very faithfully) I assembled a brief sketch of our doings here in the beautiful land of Lietuva. I’ll add random commentary also, but there’s no way I’ll be able to set down things as they were or do justice to them.

Monday, June 29th – Day of Endless Airplane Surprises

We were supposed to fly out from O’Hare, Chicago Airport to Warsaw, Poland about 5:30pm. But we packed early and were waiting around taking care of last minute things when the telephone rang. Our flight had been delayed 7 hours at least – not what we wanted to hear. However, there was another route which might just get us to Warsaw in time for our connecting flight to Vilnius. We would have to be at O’Hare in 3 hours. Could we do it? Mom’s never been one to delay. We called Grandma and Grandpa (as it was far too late to take the South

Once in O’Hare, we checked in, etc, only to find that our flight to Frankfurt, Germany was over-booked by 100 some passengers. Some-how, we managed to be among the persons assigned seats (Snap got upgraded to Business Class – lucky duck!): Thank God! Then the plane was delayed. And delayed some more. After an hour or so we boarded. Once on the plane, we settled in for a looooooong ride. 9 hours. I read some Lithuanian history, slept, edited some writing, read some Touchstone Magazine, talked with the Guatemalan lady on the other side of mom (practiced my Spanish), ate the food they gave me, and in general was immensely uncomfortable because they build seats for people taller than 5’ 1.”

Tuesday, June 30th – Continuation of Airplaneness and Commencement of Jet-lag

Once we landed in Frankfurt, we immediately sped across the airport to find our connecting flight to Warsaw. We had a slight problem, you see. When our tickets were printed, somehow, we didn’t receive my ticket from Warsaw to Vilnius. In Chicago we were told that they’d print it for us in Frankfurt. In Frankfurt they said to wait until Warsaw. I was a little worried. :P
Anyway, we noticed that this one family that had also taken our Chicago flight to Frankfurt boarded our connecting flight to Warsaw. Snap and I joked that perhaps we’d follow them, or they’d follow us, all the way to Vilnius. We shouldn’t have laughed – it happened. :D

When we landed in Frankfurt, Mom was in a bit of a panic. Our flight came in late, and there was only about half an hour till we were to board the Vilnius flight. We couldn’t read the signs very well, nor speak Polish (though English was spoken too [ish –as Snap says]) and we still needed a ticket for me! Needless to say, we had a rather frantic 30 minutes weaving our way through the airport and arrived barely in time to board the bus for the plane. (We probably would have missed it if Mom hadn’t sent Snap on ahead to let them know we were coming.)

On the plane, I read some more Lithuanian history and found out that the Millennium Celebration of Lithuania as a historically mentioned entity is connected with the Lithuanian’s martyring St Bruno. You’d probably know him as St. Boniface.

(Ironically, the Oak is symbolic for Lithuania. Snap: I thought St. Boniface cut down the Oak. TQ: And the Lithuanians cut down St. Boniface... [Yeah, I know. It’s pretty lame.])

Lithuania (Christianized by that time) also finally defeated the Teutonic Knights, ending their era of power, at the battle of Zalgiris or Grunewald under Grand Duke Vytautas. I also found out something very, very, very interesting. Apparently, at the time of Luther, the Grand Master of the weakened Teutonic Order corresponded with that reformer; the outcome being that both he and the greater portion of the Order became Lutheran and the former head of the Teutonic Knights swore allegiance to the Grand Duke of Lithuania as – guess what! – the Duke of Prussia! (That explains alot!)

Anyway, we landed in Vilnius, claimed our baggage, and were greeted by our hosts. (No customs, no passport checks.) They dropped us off at the flat which their friends had kindly agreed to let us borrow and left us to sleep for a few hours (after the mistress of the flat fed us well!). At 7pm, they picked us up and took us to see a bit of the city of Vilnius.

First we visited a cemetery in which rested a monument surrounding the graves of 14 persons killed by the Soviet tanks in an attack on a TV tower guarded by the Lithuanian nationals. Then we walked through Cathedral Square (past the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Lithuania and the Cathedral) and took pictures of the statue of King Gediminas – the first king of Lithuania. We climbed a hill above the Square, overlooking Vilnius, whereon were planted three immense white crosses. As our host told it, the original crosses were pulled down by the Soviets, but buried by the people before they could be destroyed so that after re-independence they could serve as a model for the present monumental crosses. (We saw those original pieces also). Finally, we left one of our newlywed friends with her husband of a few days (they were so beautiful together) and went with the other to meet his family and have dinner.

The family is lovely. The boy is one of those young men who just capture a place in my heart on first acquaintance. He’s witty, charmingly unembarrassed, yet sensitive and comical. Of them all, he spoke English the most fluently. The girl is wonderful as well, sweet, and very helpful. It was so nice to have another female to hang around with and to help translate despite age differences.

Wednesday, July 1st – Museum and Concerts, Concerts.

In the morning, our host took us to an open air museum of historic Lithuanian life. Traditional farmsteads from each sector of Lithuania form replicas of small settlements in the countryside. Interpreters in traditional dress explain architecture and traditions. (unfortunately, not in Anglishke) We had a lunch of traditional Lithuanian food at a small cafe in one of these villages, and our host suggested we try a certain drink: Gira. He explained that it was made with bread dough left to sit for three or four days in water with sugar. (Snap and I grin at each other.) It was served us in a bottle; this was not the real gira, said he. Someday we should try homemade gira. (Snap drinks and whispers to me, “Do you think it is...?” I nod. “I kind of like it,” says she. I grin.)
We made it back to Vilnius just in time to catch the first festivities of the Millennium Celebration of Lietuva. First we watched a ceremony by the riverside which we couldn’t see much of because of the crowd. Monks from the Franciscan Monastery were chanting (I think they were real monks??) and girls in traditional costume were putting wreaths of flowers on the water. (No, Nick, we didn’t participate. :D) Then we ran to a Franciscan church (much defaced by the Soviets and still in the process of restoration) for what our host called “a concert” (I think that this term meant pretty much anything musical performed by one or two groups indoors. I’m still not sure) in which songs were sung by choirs – apparently songs about St. Francis (?). Then we ran to the Vilnius University church to hear a concert by the Lithuanian Boy’s Choir and another choir after them. Then we found our way back to Cathedral Square for a televised National Signing of Millennium of Lithuania Document thingy. Since it was all in Lithuanian, I’m not actually that sure what was going on, but different Lithuanian important figures spoke and choirs sang songs, and bands played, and people were honored, and video clips on the history of Lithuania were shown, and I saw REAL LIVE MONKS! (they were barefoot too...) We didn’t get “home” until very late.

During our entire first week in Vilnius, Snap and I discovered that (very unfortunately) whenever we sat down for more than 15 minutes, we would find ourselves struggling against an overpowering urge to sleep. It was rather unpleasant because we were in constant fear that our host would think we were bored and be hurt.

Thursday, July 2nd – Day of Churches, Song and Dance

We spent the first part of the day with our newlywed hostess visiting churches in the Old Town of Vilnius. They were all beautiful. It saddened one to see the destruction wrought by the Soviets still awaiting repair. Many churches had once been covered with beautiful frescoes where now only bits of colored plaster still suggest the artwork. Most of the churches we saw were Roman Catholic, but we saw a few Russian Orthodox as well. I found the Orthodox churches artistically a bit surprising. They differed from all the other Orthodox churches I’ve been in (in my vaaaasst experience of a grand 2!) and the Eastern art I’ve seen. Large western looking paintings graced the walls in some, even forming part of the iconostasis. Many of the icons were westernized and lacked the unique form and perspective of the eastern icons. Often I saw a mix of western paintings and eastern icons in the same space, right next to each other. In one Orthodox cathedral, I saw relicts of several saints (from the area) preserved and housed in an elaborately roofed box. I eyed some of the icons for sale a bit wistfully too. At one of the churches, a lady took us to a table, and through our translator told us to take one or two of the pieces on it. Most were paper copies of icons, but in addition to one of those, I was given a necklace pendant of Christ with the Theotokos and Snap received a miniature icon of St. Valentine. Awesome! (Now I have both an RC “dogtag” and an Orthodox one. I plan to wear the Orthodox one as there’s nothing theologically wrong with it that I can see. (And my Protestant friends might ask questions. [Naughty me]) The RC one (from a Baptist School’s Garage Sale :P ) petitions the Blessed Virgin to pray for us, which I am uncomfortable with. )

After lunch, we climbed a hill (in pouring rain) to Gediminas Tower, a tower preserved from the wall of the castle that once overlooked the center of Vilnius. For the slightly romantic girl who loves knights, armor and chivalry, the little bit of brick and stone was immensely exciting. I loved every bit of it, especially the view over Vilnius from which I could imagine how I would defensively and offensively arrange an army around such a fortress. Afterwards, we were handed over to our other host who took us to the National Philharmonic to hear philharmonic choirs from all over Lithuania and Lithuanian choirs from other countries. I’ve never heard anything like it. (The hall was packed, but our host somehow worked us in after half and hour or so of waiting on the steps. It was so worth the wait.)

But the day wasn’t over yet! We missed the final half hour of the Philharmonic Orchestra concert to run to the Song and Dance Festival (part of the Millennium Celebration) in an outdoor amphitheatre snuggled in a deep valley in a Vilnius park. People lined the hills to watch. We heard folk songs and watched folk dances (in traditional costume) till late into the night. (actually early morning) At the end of the Festival, the musicians played traditional polkas from each of the four provinces of Lithuania and our host dragged me and Mamita down for a dance. It was awesome!

Friday, July 3rd – Swimming and the Children’s Festival

In the morning our hosts drove us to a small inland lake to swim. It was quite cold, yet desire to be good guests proved a strong incentive. Once accustomed to the water, the swim was pleasant and refreshing. Falling through the floor of the changing booth was not. (I wasn’t hurt, just a bit scratched.) Afterwards, we went to the Children’s Choir Festival in which over 16,000 children from all over Lithuania sang for hours and hours and hours. It was also amazing. (Our host’s children sang and played in one of the orchestras.) After this even was over, we went to eat and then walked along Gedimino parkway, near the Parliament building. Our host’s wife related to us how she and her husband had stood at that very corner not so many years ago with many other Lithuanians, forming a living barrier around Parliament to protect it from Soviet tanks. (This occurred the same night as the assault on the TV tower.) She also showed us an exhibit with remnants of the blocks and barricades surrounding the building.

Saturday, July 4th – Genocide Museum, Mass, and Opera at a Castle!

Mom managed to use the internet to contact Daddy, courtesy of our flat hostess, before our host picked us up. The order of the morning was to be the Museum of the Lithuanian Genocide (Nazi and Soviet), situated in the former KGB headquarters in Vilnius. Cold stone speaks louder than anything our host could have told us. Upstairs we saw offices, displays on the Lithuanian Partisan resistance, the deportees to Sibera, the KGB infiltration and police rule. But downstairs we encountered the cells; cells for solitary confinement, water treatment, some padded to prevent suicide by tortured prisoners, the execution chambers. I had heard the tales, but had never seen. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Our host didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to.

After that, we went to the Cathedral Square. Because of the Millennium Celebration, a media trailer had been set up at one corner of the square. Mom had been eager to use the internet to contact Dad, and Elle and I likewise wished for a clue of what was passing at home. Our host said that the loudspeakers had announced that everyone was invited to use the resources within the trailer (including computers with internet access). Nervously, with much glancing around us, Elle and I followed her into the booth. I managed to glance at my inbox and answer two emails, when all of a sudden I heard the televised microphone announcer behind me. I heard some sort of question, and turned just in time to see the announcer stick the microphone in front of Snap’s face. She turned bright red and whispered, “I don’t speak Lithuanian.” I heard the announcer chuckle and say something about “American” as he turned away. Mom totally missed the whole exchange, and we couldn’t convince her that we wanted to get out of sight NOW! Accordingly, Snap and I beat it out of there, leaving mom to spend another few minutes emailing.

Once Mom had finished with her internet communications, our host and we walked through the booths in the park next to the Cathedral square. It was full of various performing groups in traditional Lithuanian costume (singers, demonstrators, smiths, cooks, dancers, etc), vendors, and children and spectators of all sizes. Elle took pictures. At 5:00pm, we went to Mass with our host and his family (it was a special Mass that they had to be present for) and then drove to Trackai. Trackai is home to the best preserved medieval castle in Lithuania – a castle on an island. And as if that weren’t enough, we were going to see an opera – an famous Lithuanian opera staged in the castle. Several friends of our host’s son came along (they were hilarious and interesting. One looked like Prince Caspian while another spoke fluent English and looked like a Rohirrim from the LOTR movies.) We ate a light supper together at a cafe which included something akin to Pasties and a whole tall mug of gira! (I look at Snap and whisper, “It comes in pints!” She nods.” However, Snap did not like the homemade gira because of the pellet looking things floating in it.) I drank ALL of mine, pellets and all.

Unfortunately, it was raining when the opera began and we could barely see anything through the mass of umbrellas (the audience sat in the courtyard and the opera was staged upon the walls and on a platform in a corner. Even though it was in Lithuanian and I could understand none of the words (excepting a few names), I could follow the general storyline and I enjoyed the performance immensely. Our hostess also found a plot synopsis in English for us to read which greatly illumined the musical goings on. The Teutonic knights plot to take the castle, one princess marries her love, while her “sister” is deceived and seduced by the Teutonic envoy into betraying her people, is verbally chastened by her Lithuanian prince, and is murdered by the Teutonic envoy before reaching the castle. The Lithuanian warriors lose the battle and die in a burning castle rather than surrender. It was all very dramatic, including real fire! *eyes widen* Ooh, aah!

We took pictures in the dark in front of the castle.

Two items

Two small items.

First,
I copied down the following from an excellent and much loved (and worn) shirt of a friend in Vilnius. It was accompanied by illustrations:

Optimist - The glass is half full
Pessimist - The glass is half empty
Realist - The glass is.
Idealist - The glass should be full
Feminist - His glass seems more full than my glass.
Environmentalist - Save the water!
Anarchist - Let's break the glass!
Capitalist - Let's sell the glass!
Chemist - The glass is... (proceeds to list the chemical formula of glass which I failed to copy down)

Also, on the way home from the SB airport, Grandpa bought us Burger King. I was appalled (though quite humoured) at the message on the paper cups:

HAVE IT YOUR WAY
Maybe you want a lot of ice. Maybe you want no ice. Maybe you want your top securely fastened, or maybe you want to go topless. Hmmm? Maybe you want to mix COKE and SPRITE. Maybe you want to let your cup runneth over (we wish you wouldn't). Whatever you do, make sure to have things your way.


Note to self: Why a Biblical allusion?

Note to Self

Note to self:

Write down what you do and what you win in 4H unless you want a huge headache when applying for 4H Scholarships! You can't just look at a ribbon and guess what year it was given and for what activity...

And do it for your children, because they'll probably be just like you...

Observations

1. When I am swamped I tend to blog more often and more mundanely. I seem to find more time, when I have no time, and then tend to say nothing in a manner intensely amusing to myself. Ironically.

2. This is a good post. Thankfully I read it before I read the next one, or I wouldn't have been quite as impressed with it.

3. This is an excellent post. It put together so many puzzle pieces for me. Wow. I'll probably be pondering for a while.

(I find it interesting that no matter what I read lately, I'm always finding myself traveling in a circle around the Eucharist, Sexuality (Marriage and Procreation), and Natural Law. Huh. I wonder why this is?)

Of course, my recommendation does not render these pieces "good." Check my perception before embracing it, as I usually bestow my verbal approbation rather quickly and impulsively (hmmmmm. *ponders*) I could have failed in my speculative intellect... (eh, Dr. Tingley?)

Beddy bye!

What, ho! Who ever in the world scrubs fecal matter off goats and reads ethics pieces a few hours later, all the while so exhausted she thinks she's going to drop down asleep? I confuse myself sometimes. Now to sleep for four hours... (Goat Show in the morning)

Lithuanian Churches

Seeeew.

Foist ov awl,

't 'pears dat da Evangelical Lithuanian Lutheran Church has been 'round fo' a loooooong time - since the Reformaysh. 't also 'pears dat da Evangelical Lithuanian is in full fellowship with da LCMS (my synod, in case anybody was wondering.... :P )

But 'part from that, I can't really say much else, since I don't speak/read Lithuanian. hmmm.

News
Ecumenical Contacts
Confession of Faith

No time, no time!

One breath at a time. My chest feels so tight with anxiety and frustration that it's emotionally hard to breathe.

I want to scream, but that won't help anything. Just keep praying and doing, Sarah.

Lithuania trip is coming so fast, I have so much to get done. Ultimately, though (tries to realize this) I'm not going to die if these things don't get done, though I will disappoint people and maybe ruin my reputation.

Blah. Well, from God is my honor - therefore I'm just going to do what I can and try not to sweat the rest.

Cross as Noose, Noose as Symbol

Finally I'm getting this post finished! I can't believe how long this is taking me and how busy I have been!

As for the bishop, the sight of the guillotine was a shock to him, from which he recovered only slowly. Indeed, the scaffold, when it is there, set up and ready, has a profoundly hallucinatory effect. We may be indifferent to the death penalty and not declare ourselves, either way so long as we have not seen a guillotine with our own eyes. But when we do, the shock is violent, and we are compelled to choose sides, for or against. Some, like Le Maistre, admire it; others, like Beccaria, execrate it. The guillotine is the law made concrete; it is called the Avenger. It is not neutral and does not permit you to remain neutral. Who ever sees it quakes, mysteriously shaken to the core. All social problems set up their question mark around that blade. The scaffold is vision. The scaffold is not a mere frame, the scaffold is not an inert mechanism made of wood, iron, and ropes. It seems like a creature with some dark origine we cannot fathom, it is as though the framework sees and hears, the mechanism understands, as though the wood and iron and ropes have their own will. In the hideous nightmare it projects across the soul, the awful apparition of the scaffold fuses with its terrible work. The scaffold becomes the accomplice of the executioner; it devours, eats flesh, and drinks blood. The scaffold is a sort of monster created by judge and carpeter, a specter that seems to live with an unspeakable vitality, drawn from all the death it has wrought.

Thus the impression was horible and profound; on the day after the execution, and for many subsequent days, the bishop seemed overwhelmed...One evening his sister overheard and jotted down the following: " I didn't believe it could be so monstrous. It's wrong to be so absorbed in divine law as not to perceive human law. Death belongs to God alone. By what right to men touch that unknown thing?"

Good Evening, Dear Reader.

The preceding excerpt flowed from the pen of Victor Hugo in his epic work Les Miserables, Fantine, Book One, IV (Works to Match Words). Reading to my brother several days ago (now a week and a half ago), this passage re-awakened a personal sadness over impoverishment of symbols and their meaning in the full sense of the word "symbolic."

Imagine wearing a guillotine or a scaffold around your neck. Imagine hanging a picture of a corpse swinging from the gallows on your wall. Imagine tracing a noose around your neck with your fingers. Imagine praying before a rack or torturer's wheel. Are you feeling nauseated yet?

Yet, as Christians, we do many of these things (their equivalent, at least) quite regularly.

For what is the Cross but an instrument of torture and death? And it was as much a symbol as the guillotine of Hugo's day to the Roman world. What was said of the guillotine and scaffold above that could not be said of a cross?Before God died upon it, the cross was a horror, the embodiment of shame and excrutiating, prolonged death. And for the Jewish and Pagan world encountered by Christianity in it's early years, the cross was still such a symbol. Hence "the reproach of the cross" and the "foolishness of the cross" and the "shame of the cross."

Now, culturally, it's merely decorative. We arrange flowers on it. We put it on our walls, on our shirts, in our churches, around our necks in silver and gold, stick it to our cars, even tattoo it on our bodies without even stopping to think about what we're doing.

But the Cross "is the law made concrete." It is not pretty. It is gory and revolting. One can talk all one wants about crucifixion and remain unaffected - just as I could mention "drawing and quartering" until I saw Gibson's Brave Heart. Now even the words sicken me. (For those who have read Saint Joan by Bernard Shaw [a perfectly frivolous work except for some delightfully profound lines] one might think of "the Chaplain"'s reaction to Joan's burning.) Would we be as silly, unthinking, and irreverent today in our use of the Cross if it were still the norm in criminal punishment?

Though we have never witnessed crucifixion ourselves, we nevertheless confess the Cross as the means by which Christ won salvation for the whole world by incalculable suffering. What does it say about our God and His sacrifice to lightly treat the symbol of His agony in our flesh?

I think of the days prior to my awakening to orthodox catholicity when I was party to mockery of Roman Catholics using the Sign of the Cross. (Yes, Confession time) Sure, I can plead ignorance - the "Romophobia" (term borrowed from an Anglican friend at Hope) of the circles in which I revolved in my early life. But that doesn't diminish the significance of the act. In fact, it almost underscores a new sort of shame which attaches itself to the cross these days.

1. There is a sort of shame among the Protestant contingent when it comes to any relation between the body and spirituality. For many of them, there's a disconnect between spirit and body, the two are treated separately, and the idea that something done to the body could have any spiritual significance is often spurned as false and superstitious. * Thus the water of Baptism and the bread and wine of the Eucharist cannot have any effect upon the soul, besides being "bodily" signs to remind the Christian of "spiritual" things.

2. As said above, the cross, culturally, has become almost "merely" decorative. There is a deliberate, if ignorant of the purport of the action, impetus to separate the cross from its function. (Perhaps there is a link to Modernism and Post-Modernism here that needs to be explored.) People (generic populace) do not automatically think, "grotesque death" when they see a cross. They think, "religious," "christian," "jewelry," or any number of other categories (which they also often incorrectly define). This is especially aided by the Protestant de-body-ing of crosses. Remove the corpus and you've got two perpendicular lines intersecting. With the corpus, the average yokel might think, "Catholic," "Jesus," "church," or even "corpse," before he gets going on the aforementioned list.
People simply don't see a cross as a cross anymore. The sign is no longer symbolic of its function .
This "de-body-ing" the cross does away with the shame of death. But somehow, effacing the shame of the corpse of true Man from the cross, does not mesh with an understanding of the true God who truly became incarnate of the Blessed Virgin bodily, truly suffered bodily, truly died bodily, and was truly raised bodily.

So, on two counts, the mockery of the Sign of the Cross went awry. First, it operated on a false confession that what is done in the body does not matter. A sign doesn't do anything, therefore it is superstitious. Never mind whether it can confess the faith - that's done "with the mouth." Second, it failed to even remotely recognize the intrinsic meaning of the symbol as relating to either death or Christ. Both in the secular and sacred senses, none of the little "sitters in the seat of mockers" made any further connection with the bodily tracing of the fingers than "superstitious Catholics." We felt no shame, because we recognized neither shame nor glory in the simple geometric shape of the cross.

What is left of the glory if the shame never was?

I mean, if there was no intrinsic shame in the cross, why is it such a wonderful thing that Christ has made this tree glorious?

At any rate, there's a lot to chaw on. I'm more and more convinced that words and actions mean and do things - they aren't meaningless, even when they are misunderstood and misused. The spirit is not separate from the body. Rather the spirit lives in the body - not in an alcove, but permeating and filling the material in such a way that both together constitute one being, "the reasonable soul and human flesh subsisting." Even so, (if not quite so precisely) signs and symbols are not mere combinations of color and line, words not mere combination of sound. But each contain within themselves a fullness of history and usage. (This is why I'd often rather have a used book than a new one. Used books bring love with them in dirt and scuffs, in yellowed repair tape, and reglued pages.) This culture has cheapened our words and symbols by both a reductionistic approach and an approach that denies a real reality. To weed a garden is not the mere mechanical motions by which a hand grasps a plant stem by means of muscular contractions and extracts it from the earth, but rather an action comprehending and participating in the weeding of all gardens by all women, the nurturing of family, the tending of soil, yes, even suggesting an icon of the work of the Ministry and unseen Spirit. In the same way, a cross is not two intersecting lines alone, but comprehends every crucifixion and death, justice and injustice, pain, ridicule and shame, culminating in the one great crucifixion which implicates life, justification, vindication, glory, and resurrection in the one word or symbol of a simple cross.

As Hugo says of the Guillotine, the Cross is a living thing, three dimensional in its function, physically and metaphysically. And more than that. In each dimension, the Cross is a paradox as justice meets injustice, sin enounters holiness, glory transforms shame, life conquers by death, perishable is raised imperishable, as the immortal God-who-is-Man dies in order that He might not live without us and that we might live as He lives, sharing the same body.

And Arg! It's 11:57pm. It so annoying to have a brainwave the night before church. I so hope I'll still be alert tomorrow for the sermon. Someone, just slap me. :P

*Luther (in The Freedom of the Christian does say, " And so it will profit nothing that the body should be adorned with sacred vestments, or dwell in holy places, or be occupied in sacred offices, or pray, fast, and abstain from certain meats, or do whatever works can be done through the body and in the body... On the other hand, it will not at all injure the soul that the body should be clothed in profane raiment, should dwel in profane places, should eat and drink in the ordinary fashion, should not pray aloud, and should leave undone all the the things above mentioned, which may be done by hypocrites."
But to say that this passage corroborates the prevalent Protestant position refered to above, is to ignore the sentence which sits between these two preceding and clarifies them: "Some thing widely different will be necessary for the justification and life of the soul, sincethe things I have spoken of can be done by an impious person, and only hypocrites are produced by devotion to these things."

Luther does not say that the soul and body are disconnected or that nothing done to the body can affect the soul and vice versa. He was not so foolish. Indeed, we are saved body and soul by Baptism - a sacrament of water accompanied by the Word and Spirit of God applied to the body to convert the whole person, marking them as redeemed by Christ Crucified for the life everlasting. (See Luther's Catechisms on Baptism) No, the simple point Luther aims to make is that justification is not meritoriously gained by a man's actions. Man is justified by faith - not a belief he works up for himself, but the gift of God which simply receives the forgiveness freely given into its hands by Christ. It is not a striving or reaching for, but a bodily open mouth into which another delivers sustenance. The soul is not removed from the body, but lives in the body and through the body.
Would we assert that what is done in the body is unrelated to the soul we might expect Luther to respond, "Not so, impious men, I reply; not so. Tht would indeed really be the case, if we were thoroughly and completely inner and spiritual persons; but that will not happen until the last day, when the dead shall be raised. As long as we live in the flesh, we are but beginning and making advances in that which shall be completed in a future life," etc. Not that in heaven we shall be bodiless, for what then would be the purpose of confessing that we believe in "the resurrection of the body"? As Hugh of St. Victor says (refer to Treasury of Daily Prayer, Writing for Friday, Easter 7), "But if I shall rise in an ephemeral body, then I shall not be the one who rises. For how is it true resurrection if the flesh cannot be true? Therefore, clear reasoning suggests that if the flesh will not be true, without doubt the resurrection will not be true. So also, our Redeemer showed His hands and side to the disciples who doubted His resurrection He offered them His bones and flesh to handle, saying: 'Handle and see: for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as you see me to have.'"
All that to say that this Protestant idea is by no means an orthodox one nor can it be properly ascribed to Luther.

I Would Not Be Afraid.

I do not want to be afraid any longer.

Pain, I will endure - it is my lot here on earth.
Longing, I will contain - it sustains my hope.
Love, I will give and not withhold - it nourishes the spirit

But Fear,
Fear corrupts Love, kills and squelches it.
Fear twists Longing, by strangling hope of fulfillment without abating the yearning.
Fear manipulates Pain, diverting it from it's proper end, and sealing lips that should pray.

Where shall I run from fear?

When I was small, I would run to my mother's arms, snuggle beside her in bed to escape nightmares. But she would always send me back to my own bed after the initial calm. Now I am too old to snuggle up in her lap. The fears I have now, my mother cannot calm.

But I am still a child of God. And I still have my Mother the Church. What then shall I do? Shall I run to her? I would - inasmuch as I am still a child. For only as a trusting child can I receive her comfort. And here is the sadness of it all. When I think myself begun to be wise, I begin to doubt my Mother. When I begin to doubt her, her gentle ministrations fall on skeptical ears. Ears which would believe her, but into which the wisdom of the world has whispered doubts concerning the wisdom of God. Kyrie Eleison!
So the child in me would cling to her skirts, would cry out to the Virgin's Son for His forgiveness - and does so. But when He bestows His blessed mercy and forgiveness, why does the upstart fool in me scorn His grace by doubting His absolution?

Our God's mercy is infinite, but how if I should fail to see Him? How shall my eyes be turned from seeing my own sin to beholding the righteousness of Christ? How shall I cease to call "unclean" what God has declared "clean"? And how shall I trust His Word that it is so?

God has not given us a spirit of fear. God the Holy Spirit drive out this fear which does not fear, love, and trust in God above all things, and fill the vessel of earth.

Book Lists

Hey Dear Reader!

I'm getting ready to write a ton. Not just to write, but because I have an opportunity this evening (I think) to actually put to page some ruminations which I've been waiting a chance to blog. So, if new posts get a bit thick here, don't worry. They'll calm down soon. And, as always, remember that this blog isn't for you to keep up on my life: it's for me to have a place to spew and share the spewtle (It's a word now...).

So, I'm going to lead into this series of posts with some lists.

What I hope to read this summer:

Summa Theologica - Thomas Aquinas (at least parts of it. Yeah, I haven't been very faithful as of yet.)
Augsburg Confession and Apology Thereof
Iliad and Oddesy - Homer
War and Peace - Tolstoy (Courtesy of Mr. Rhein)
Phantastes - George Macdonald
Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Selections from Midieval Philosophers - ed. Richard McKeon (a garage sale book)

And others, as they turn up...

And now that the Lord of the Rings trilogy is out of the way, as well as The Man Who Was Thursday, I've had to pick the next books for my family/sibling reading aloud adventures. My goal is semi-classic/family friendly (read in "thinks will be Mom approved in language and taste")/ thought-provoking lit. that's comprehendable (in maturity also) by all sibs. Here's a tentative list.

The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - unknown (if the boys don't get bored with the poetry.)
A Man for All Seasons - Bolt

I don't know what to read them after that, but by the time we get there, they might be old enough to launch into some C. S. Lewis Space Trilogy or take on some more hefty fare.

I'm going to try to read Les Miserables with Lukie. He wanted to read it for family reading, but Mom wanted to hear a plot she hadn't heard before. I'd like to read the whole thing myself, but if I can do it with Luke, that'll be even better.

So I'm off to write some more....

And I Am Seized Once More by the Blogging Urge

Dear Reader,

This is one of those nights wherein I ought to sleep instead of holding tryst with my computer keyboard in the dark hours of the night but in which I find that my mind is o'er brimming with words, though I am exhausted by my day. Hence, I take upon myself to write a short post. Hah! A hopefully short post which I may expand upon later.

I'm going to try to explain why I like the painting The Justice of Emperor Otto III by Dirc Bouts C 1460.

This particular diptych moved me greatly and I've developed a deep admiration for and attachment to it. In fact, I selected it as one of the paintings on which I wrote for my Augustine College Art final exam. Yet, when I mention my appreciation for this painting to family and acquaintances, I'm met at first with curiosity and then with, after I mention the subject of the painting, a sort of aversion and incredulity. You see, the two panels are titled, The Wrongful Execution of a Count and Ordeal by Fire.

What do I see in a work of art with such titles? First, take a look.

Prior to Augustine College, I probably would have barely glanced at these images or simply passed over them in disgust at the subject matter. But, thanks to Dr. Tingley, I was not able to treat this diptych so.

Such pictures, one would suspect, must certainly tell a story. As Dr. Tingley explained to the class, this diptych was painted for the wall of a hall of justice in the Lowlands. Strangely, the first panel depicts a miscarriage of justice - apparently historical.

Otto III, shown with his wife, gazing from the wall, has just sentenced a count, depicted in white below, to death. Otto's wife accused the nobleman of attentions to her after the count refused her overtures. The count walks to his death attended by executioners, priest, and his own wife who listens to him with downcast face. He swears his faithfulness to her and charges her to vindicate him. As the apathetic courtiers watch, the count is beheaded and the countess receives his head from the executioner.

In the second panel, the scene changes as the countess pleads her husband's innocence. To decide the point, she undergoes an ordeal by fire, meant to test in her own body the word of her husband against the Emperor's queen. If she is hurt by the red hot iron bar, her husband has played her false and deserved his death. If she is unharmed, he will be vindicated. The hot iron mars her not, the Emperor is aghast and his court astonished. In the background, the false wife of the Emperor burns at the stake for her slander and unfaithfulness.

At this point, please don't be repulsed by the tragic tale. True, it is tragic. It is sobering. But it is also beautiful in two points. One of these, Dr. Tingley brought out in his lecture: Human Justice ultimately accountable to Divine Justice.

Human Justice may be miscarried. Human Justice may be executed in anger and from false witness. Human Justice is fallible and may be twisted. Human Justice may condemn the innocent instead of aquitting him.

But Divine Justice will not and does not falter. Human Justice is accountable to Divine Justice. It is to Divine Justice and not Otto's Justice that the Countess appeals to as she confidently enters her ordeal. (Not that I'm advocating ordeals to determine guilt or innocence. Though, come to think of it, imagine how many criminals would continue to plead innocent if guilt were determined by ordeal!) Those who administer Human Justice ought to tremble before the Divine Justice to which they will be called to account. For those who such ministers condemn, fully believing them guilty though they were actually innocent, will be vindicated by the One who entrusted the sword to them.

Imagine being the judge who had to hear cases sitting before this diptych! What serious weight would it add to your judgements by its silent reminder of both the frailty of your justice and the Divine Court of appeal.

But there's another beauty to this painting-narrative which Dr. Tingley didn't touch on. This diptych could also be dubbed "A Tale of Two Wives" - one a faithless adulterer, the other a trusting, obedient wife. Both husbands trusted their wives. One betrayed and used his trust while the other upheld him even in his death.

Frankly, I'm quite amazed at the Count's wife. Her acts testify to a marriage of implicit trust between the partners. Honestly, how many women would first of all, believe a husband's assurance of fidelity when he had been condemned to death for unfaithfulness? And after that, how many women would trust such a husband to the extreme of testing his word in their own flesh?

Yet, this woman doesn't merely "trust" her husband in thought alone, or "hope" that he was faithful. She hears his promise as he's led out to die for breaking it and believes him. Not only does she believe him, but she quietly receives his final charge to prove his innocence. Her loyalty remains even after her husband's execution, nor does the shame deter her from keeping his trust. She appeals Otto's judgement and, moreover, does not satisfy herself with mere pleading. She offers her very body to test the Count's innocence. She trusts him not with her words alone, but with actively, she still trusts her very flesh to her husband just as she did in his life. The Countess enters the ordeal with a double confidence: a confidence in her husbands truthfulness, and a confidence in God as the just confirmer of the truth and vindicator of the innocent. Without such confidence, she would have reason indeed to tremble for her body. Yet neither of her confidences betray her - the faithful wife, obedient to her husband's last charge, passes the trial scatheless.

It is this unquestioning, undoubting trust and confidence in God and husband which marks the Countess' marriage in this pictoral narrative and so endears the diptych to me.

My brain isn't working well tonight, but I hope that was intelligible. Am not going to review before posting.

Comic Relief!

Dear Reader,

As I am in need of and currently enjoying little comic relief at this time, I thought I share some.

First, you simply must head over to Snap's place and read the history test! It's priceless.

Secondly, that Pine Cone Boy has given me permission to post quotes he took from Augustine. I stealed them from his blogses. Editorial Note: if there is a "me" in the following it signifies Zack. I must have forgotten to change it. Also, Bladerunner is Dr. Bloedow. And Metelsk is Dr. Metelski. And the funniest quotes are at the bottom so you really do have to read the entire thing!

Kyle: When I say there are seven students in my class, people ask, “You mean seventy, right?” “No, seven.”
David: “It’s kinda like seventy…”
Kyle: “…only divided by ten.”

Joel: Please tell me we have internet.
Zack: Nope.
Joel: Gah! My life is over!
Kyle: That was short.

Zack: I bet I know more Swedish than you do.
Kyle: (pointing at IKEA package) Then tell me what “Malm” means!

Zack: Fudge’d!

Joel: We have to make up a name for the frat we started five seconds ago. What rhymes with “frat”?

(On Joel’s strangely constructed closet)
Kyle: I can just imagine you sitting up there, reciting poety and thinking up rhymes for “frat”.
Joel: It’s like Narnia back here… ‘Oh, hey Aslan. Can you think of a rhyme for “frat”‘?

Me: Malm’d!

(This was a hypothetical dialogue Dr. Tingley was describing)
Torturer: Tell us who your accomplice is!
Victim: I like sardines.

Samantha: (on a fuzzy picture Tingley wanted us to indentify) It looks like a bat with a cleft lip.
Tingley: (on the same picture) Only one student has ever guessed it without any hints or prompting. He was one of the worst students that year, but he guessed it.

Tingley: People used to read Plato after supper, whereas now they read John Grisham or… Harry Potter. (looking at Zack's weird expression) I’ve probably offended some people already.
Zack: No, I just wish everyone would stop staring at me!

Kyle: Is there somewhere I can park around here without getting one of these? (holds up parking ticket)

Zack: The Basement People are on an excursion. Get all your hammering done now!

Harold: (on whether or not the Basement People would steal our stuff) I don’t think you’ll have any problems with them. (pause) I’m a little worried about your laptops.

Kyle: Also, when it’s raining, that tree tries to kill you.

Zack: (on Joel’s techno) Is that the song or are you rewinding?

([Zack]'d sat down next to Kyle with a creepy smile on [his] face)
Kyle: I thought you were trying to get me to drive you somewhere.
Zack: No. I just like being insane and enjoying every minute of it.

(later)Kyle: (on Joel) He’s insane and enjoying every minute of it!
Zack: Hey, at least I’m not smellily insane.
Joel: What?
Kyle: I think he doesn’t like your dreadlocks.
Joel: You’re a shameless antagonist!

Zack: (pointing at David’s cereal) Can I have some of that?
David: No… listen, my cereal is like your ice cream.(pause)
Zack: I’ll trade you.(Joel and David laugh)
Joel: I guess it’s not… that was really funny. (laughs some more)
Zack: OK, I guess I’ll have to write that one down…

Kyle: Huh? (opens a book cover which folded out without anything on it) I don’t get it. Why?

Dr. Patrick: Atheism explains nothing and leaves you with all the problems. At least Christians can blame God, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

Dr. Patrick: Do the hardest thing you’re capable of.
Joel: What?
Dr. Patrick: Do the hardest thing you’re capable of.
Joel: Oh. I thought you said, “Do the hardest thing and your head will blow up.”

Janice: Do you want anything to eat?
Clement: No, I’m fine.
Dr. Patrick: You don’t look it.

(Sarah was telling how she RA’d for another college once, and contrasting the guys’ disgusting residence with the girls’ lovely one)
Sarah: The girls’ house smelled really nice, with cookies and brownies…
Dr. Patrick: And not an intelligent word to be heard.

Bladerunner: In this course, you will never, never be allowed to say, “There is two”.

Kyle: (on his church) Most of the congregation is Chinese. And then you have a few token Caucasians such as myself.

Joel: Choir was mandatory, so I took that for a few years. Can’t read music. Then in high school I took band, and I was the trumpet. Still can’t read music.

Rev. Hayman: There have been a few people over the years who have gotten away with calling me “Dougie”.
Joel: Can I be one of those people?

Kyle: The rain is deceivingly wet.

Dr. Tingley: (reading Hegel) “To pit this single assertion, that ‘in the Absolute all is one,’ against the organized whole of determinate and complete knowledge, or of knowledge which at least aims at and demands complete development — to give out its Absolute as the night in which, as we say, all cows are black — that is the very naïveté of emptiness of knowledge.” (pause) Hwat?!?

(We were trying to translate the Latin idiom “Si vales, valeo” into a corresponding English expression. Various attempts included, “If you’re well, I’m well,” “If you’re fine, I’m fine,” “How are you,” and others)
Bladerunner: (clarifying) HI!!!

Dr. Tingley: Sorry I’m late today.
Joel: We’ll forgive you. Well, I will, anyway.

Dr. Tingley: If the fart, I mean, the heart… I’m really sorry these lectures are recorded.

(Emily was telling us how she abbreviated words like “tradition” and “delicious” to “tradish” and “delish”)
Zack: Gah, I HATE it when people do that!
David: Oh, it doesn’t mat to me.

Metelsk: Everyone has a book at home?
(we nod) Good. It has nice pictures.

Kyle: (on his Literature notes) I put down here on the timeline, “William the Conqueror does his thing. CONQUER’D!” And then later, here’s Christopher Marlowe. STABB’D!

Metelsk: (explaining Anaximander’s theories) That was his thinking. Well, good try.

Karen: Deer are so stupid! *sigh* We should just shoot all of them.

(I mentioned I was planning to bring an axe to the Ranch)
Janice: An axe? A hatchet maybe, or a tomahawk…
Karen: I love throwing tomahawks. (mimes doing so)
Sarah: See, this is what makes me afraid of Americans. Americans and Zack.
Zack: I like weapons.

Zack: (finishing drying pot lid) Here’s your LID.
Joel: Put it on the pot, please.
Zack: Never. I’ll die first.
Joel: That can be arranged.

Bladerunner: (coming out of a long tangent about Roman history) No, we didn’t do the verb… why am I talking about this? We’re supposed to be doing Latin…

Bladerunner: A noun in the nominative plural.
Karen: …Virorum?
Bladerunner: Oh no, no, no, don’t do that to me, Karen.

Bladerunner: First verb.
Joel: Amicos…
Bladerunner: Now Joel. Now Joel, don’t ruin my day.

Bladerunner: The verb?
Kyle: Iram… no, what am I doing…
Bladerunner: I don’t know what you’re doing. It puzzles me.

Bladerunner: “Caecilianus has a lovely dinner-guest.” (pause) A pig.

Bladerunner: Direct object.
David: Leonidas.
Bladerunner: Now David, don’t make my life miserable.

Bladerunner: The verb?
David: Salvi?
Bladerunner: What are you trying to tell me.

Sarah: The next chapter is exactly the same as the last one, except with masculine endings.
David: But that’s not exactly the same, then!

Joel: They look young and stupid. Why aren’t they in school?

Karen: (watching a beatboxing video) Can you imagine how much spit is in that microphone?

Prof. Warren: I won’t read all this; I don’t want to kill your brain cells.
Zack: You already have.
Prof. Warren: Yes, well, hopefully we’ve created a few along the way…

Kyle: I’ve decided to form a club called, “Paradise Lost: WTF?”

Joel: (on the Cyclopes) They’re irreparably nucleic.
Prof. Tucker: Now there’s a phrase.

Zack: I’m pretty sure I’m the metalhead of this residence.
Joel: Yeah. (pause) Actually, I’m not sure you are…
Zack: You’re right, I’m just a poser.
Kyle: Wow, that was a quick confession.

Rev. Hayman: (making some kind of Biblical illustration) If you hear a loud roar outside… (a bus rolls by loudly outside) …well, that’s not quite what I was thinking of…

Tingley: Something in my brain is upside-down.

Joel: Why won’t it just get cold?
Zack: Zeus is angry at us. We must make hecatombs.
Joel: We’ll pour out libations and slaughter a cow. Except I don’t have any cows. (looks out window) I hope that guy will do.

Tingley: We’ll be able to end early today. Mercifully. For once. (we didn’t, btw)

Tingley: (on a bust of a philosopher) What’s different here?
Samantha: He looks insane.

Tingley: (on a sculpture of Aphrodite and Pan) She’s got a slipper here, and she’s going to whack him. “Oh, you naughty thing!”

Emily: They’re probably in numerical order. Two coming after one, etc.

Clement: So how’s everyone tonight?
Zack: Peachy. I’m just peachy!
Sarah: I think we need to stop giving Zack sugar. And caffeine.

Note attached to plant: I’m drowning. Don’t water me, please!

David: (telling a joke) What do white children turn into when they go to heaven?
Joel: Black people?
David: No, angels.
Joel: Same thing.

Emily: (dramatically speaking of the alleged Beowulf movie) As Grendel’s arm was ripped from his body, so the plot of Beowulf was ripped from the poem!

Joel: (on Beowulf) He killed seven people before he was born.
Emily: Yeah. “I ate my twin!”

Karen: That’s not the question I was expecting…
Tingley: Deal with it.

The following bracketed quotes are from a film Dr. Tingley showed us:

[Narrator: Each man puts forth his own definition of love until finally, Socrates annihilates them all.

Teacher: Beautiful speech. Beautiful. But of course... it has to be demolished.]

Me: I have a possible solution to the subjective dilemma you find yourself in.

Karen: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!
Joel: You don’t hear much, do you?

Kyle: I learned all this reading Tom Clancey novels.
Prof. Tucker: Yeah, they teach pretty much everything in those except character development.

Zack: Look, did you have some kind of weird drink at that party?(pause)
Joel: (in really weird voice) The weirdest.

Tingley: That’s a good question, and we should answer it — just not now.

Sarah: I’m a horrible person.
Kyle: But it’s such a nice horrible.

Bladerunner: And who do you think Ovid is speaking to?
Kyle: Umm… who’s Ovid?

Prof. Warren: Well, we’re finishing up Gregorian chant today, believe it or not.
Zack: I don’t believe it.

(the following exchange took place on MSN)
Zack: Where are you?
Joel: I’m listening to MM in hermitude.
Zack: Hermitude? I think you mean the Hermitage, my friend.
Joel: No, hermitude. It’s like solitude, but with a beard.

Rev. Hayman: What’s the word you use for a people like this? Common lineage, common language, common goals…
Joel: …communists?

Prof. Tucker: (on Buechner) His theology is not orthodox, but… y’know. Who cares.

Tingley: Plato called Aristotle “The Reader”. Which is a good thing to be called. (pause) Better than “The Gamer”.

Tingley: Please excuse the proximity in that sentence of God and a dung beetle.

Prof. Tucker: …the reign of King Elizabeth.
Zack: Umm… isn’t that Queen Elizabeth?
Prof. Tucker: No, King Elizabeth sounds right to me.

Prof. Tucker: “Interactional synchrony.” Sounds like a Police album.

Prof. Tucker: “Most drafts can be cut by 50 per cent without losing any information or losing the author’s voice.”
David: Wow. That’s a lot of per cent. That’s almost, like, half.

Sarah: Does Wolsey get his head chopped off?
Prof. Tucker: No, I think he just dies.
Kyle: I’d like to point out right now that those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Kyle: I think you really need to revise your definition of “feet”.

(Joel’s laptop starts making a weird beeping noise)
Tingley: Where is that noise coming from?
Joel: My laptop. And it’s never made that noise before. I didn’t think it was capable of making that noise.(pause)
Tingley We — we don’t have to flee the building?

Bladerunner: The Rape of Lucretia, that’s a nice story…

Dr. Patrick: (to Zack) Yes, your veins are fairly prominent!

Joel: Sir, if you had a knife, would you beat someone with it?
Rev. Hayman: I’d be inclined to use a hammer.

Dr. Patrick: So since you got the Templeton Prize, how has your life changed?
Dr. Heller: It has been RUINED.

Dr. Heller: Cosmology is more narrow. Cosmology is concerned with one thing only: the universe.

Joel: (on his scarf) It’s like a day-long hug from a very fluffy man.
Janice: Or an attempt to strangle you from a very weak man.

Tingley: When you hear people talk about art, what do you think of?
Zack: I think of film, actually.
Tingley: Well, you would, wouldn’t you.

Rev. Hayman: What does “amen” mean?
Zack: (remembering that we’d looked this up, but I couldn’t remember what it meant) …aw, crap.
Rev. Hayman: It does not mean “aw, crap”.

Tingley: Now, some people don’t like the word “argument”.
Zack: I like the word argument.
Tingley: We know you like it, Zack. That might be the first thing we learned about you.

Prof. Tucker: (on the Rime of the Ancient Mariner) First reactions?
Dave: I liked it.
Prof. Tucker: OK. Why?
Dave: Uhhh… it was cool…

Tingley: …the forum here was populated only by pigs, deer, and vegetables…

Bladerunner: What case is “tibi,” Kyle?
Kyle: Umm… dative?

Bladerunner: Dative. Dative, David. (pause) David dative. Dative David. (chuckles)

Karen: (on how she’d been using Emily’s method of abbreviaysh) I was doing the Scriptures reading and I thought, “justificaysh”.
Zack: Heh, and sanctificaysh.
Dave: Whoa, guys. That’s not funny. It has to do with your salvaysh!
Joel: (coming over) Hey guys, I really enjoyed that talk on the Transfiguraysh.

Kyle: I like carnage, OK? Nothing wrong with that.

Kyle: What did I tell you about dreamworlds of magic? No more dreamworlds of magic!

Tingley: Does everyone agree with that? Or do we have… dissenters?

Tingley: In a syllogism, two negatives don’t make a positive, they make a big nothing.

Tingley: Is it valid?
Joel: No. Yes.
Tingley: I got a “no” and a “yes”… FROM THE SAME PERSON!

Tingley: (speaking of Zack) I just wish we could dial the irony knob down, though…
Dr. Patrick: No no, rack it up!

Dave: I dunno… is there such a thing as too much Bach?
Prof. Warren: (immediately) No.

Joel: (on the garbage) It sounds like some fruity tree gone wrong.

Emly: I need something abrasive. Can I borrow your personality?

Nova: I feel like one big frozen nose.

Tingley: (looks at Joel’s tea) Looks like Joel’s poured himself a nice scotch.

Joel: Accept my hospitality or I’ll KILL YOU!!!

Nova: Somehow proximity to the food makes me feel safer.
Emly: You clearly haven’t seen me cook.

(watching Andrei Rublev)
Cyril: It’s like Ottawa: always winter.
Nova: But never Christmas!

Zack: Some people don’t think squirrels will be in heaven.
Emly: (in silly voice) Well, the people who think that are probably not going there anyway.

Rev. Hayman: Were you saying something, Samantha?
Samantha: Oh, I was just gonna say what Dave said.
Rev. Hayman. Oh. You might want to change that… I was about to rip him to shreds.

(Tingley rings “bell” for quiet in the class)
Joel: Every time you do that it makes me think of a wedding.
Tingley: What do I have to do to shut you up.

Cyril: (to Jesse) Ah, you Eastern Orthodox weren’t REALLY worshipping God this morning because you were praying in a language you could understand!

(Cyril says something about the pope)
Jesse: Who you worship.
Cyril: We VENERATE the pope, we do not WORSHIP him…
Jesse: Yes you do.

Hey Roomie!: Strategies for Living with Your Room-mates, Housemates, (and Other People) Without Outwardly Breaking the Fifth Commandment.

Stuff I've gleaned from doin' it, readin' 'bout it, thinkin' it throoo and talkin' it ovah.

· If this arrangement is going to work out, you’ve got to go into it PLANNING on MAKING IT WORK! If you don’t want it to work, then, believe me, it won’t. A healthy relationship takes effort and sacrifice– a ton of it.

Most of your relationships up till now you entered into by choice. You were attracted to something about the other person or shared a certain something (activity, quality, characteristic) in common. This is different. The only thing you are certain to share with your roomie is your room. That means you’re going to have to cultivate a relationship from the ground up, even if you’d rather not. Don’t think you can ignore this person – there’s nothing like a stranger in your private refuge. In order to be able to take any relaxation at all in your quarters, you’ve got to learn to relax with and trust your room-mate. The converse is also true. Make your roomie miserable and her miserableness will make you miserable.
Don’t start out pessimistic about the arrangement. If you do, your prophecy may very well become self-fulfilling. Go into the situation dissatisfied and things will deteriorate from there.

· Talk to your roomie! Communication is critical here. Don’t just think and look pitiful and expect her to get it. She won’t and she’ll freak out. Tell her what’s on your mind and what’s bugging you (even if you have to abbreviate it or explain it simplistically). That way, she’ll get to know how to interpret you and she’ll understand why you are acting the way you do. Explain your reasoning behind your feelings and acting so that she can understand why something bugs you. She might not think the way you do and might not understand why you are upset otherwise.

· Listen to her! This is even more important than talking. And I’m not referring to staring at the wall and grunting while she’s speaking. I mean ACTIVE LISTENING. Look at her when she’s talking to you. If you can, stop what you are doing and give her your complete attention. Don’t interrupt her. When she’s finished speaking, let her know you heard what she said by summarizing it back to her. Ask her if this is what she is saying. Ask questions to clarify and let her know you are concerned about her.

· Make your roomie your first research project. I don’t mean rooting out all the little tidbits of her life. I mean, RECOGNIZE THAT YOU KNOW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT THIS GIRL! Honestly. The stuff you assume about her probably isn’t accurate. Don’t assume you understand how she feels, what she’s going through, what she wants, how she will act, or EVEN WHAT HER WORDS MEAN! Her whole life and background has probably been completely different from yours.
So FIND OUT ABOUT HER. Ask her about what is important to her. Be interested in what she’s interested in for the sake of understanding her. Don’t be dismissive or ridicule what she values, but try to understand why she values it. Find out what gives her pleasure and what makes her uncomfortable and afraid. And PET HER A LITTLE BIT! She’s scared, ok? Help her feel comfortable in the way that makes her comfortable if it is at all right and within your power. Usually, it takes only a very little effort to comment about her nice sports shoes or encourage her to sign up for the Intramural team she really wants to be on, or help her carry her bags up the stairs, or walk with her to the cafeteria. You’ll be amazed how far a little interest in your roomie will go.

· Talk about living arrangements from the get-go. You’ve got to have some mutual understanding about how you are going to live, what is off limits, and what you must get each other’s permission for. DEFINE THE PERAMETERS AND LEAVE NOTHING UNSAID! Don’t be afraid to discuss even the most basic and ridiculous little things. Don’t assume that, of course we’ll both do this or that. Develop a basic understanding about the fundamentals of your life together and agree upon rules that will define your relationship and guard your trust of one another. Hope College had a very nice list of things roommates had to discuss and agree upon within the first week of school. We actually had to sign it and turn it into the R.A. to be used to settle any disagreements later in the year. If you are not given such a form, seriously consider writing up one between your room-mate and you. Discuss such things as:

Ø Curfew

Ø Who is allowed in the room and when (includes parents and sibs)

Ø Locking doors (when and who gets a key? You might also want to lock up some of your own valuables.)

Ø What stuff of yours is off limits (e.g. your clothes, cell phone), what stuff can be shared (e.g. tissue box, alarm clock, fans), and what stuff you’ll lend to her when she asks (e.g. stationary, blank paper, pencil).

Ø Bathroom, Cosmetic, toiletry arrangements. (If you have one mirror, sink, toilet or shower between the two of you, who gets it when and for how long?)

Ø Dressing. What is your room-mate comfortable with? (Some of us girls are squeamish about dressing in front of others. Some are very, very not and a few can be almost in your face about it. My room-mate and I were both more on the super-modest end of the spectrum. When my room-mate was in the room, I often took my clothes to a shower stall in the [communal] bathroom to change. She often did likewise. If one of us was still in bed, we accommodated each other by turning toward the wall. If one needed to quickly change for something, one asked first before whipping into and out of clothing. It was much like privacy arrangements were when me and my sisters shared a room)

Ø Friend arrangements. What are friends allowed when it comes to your room? Can they ever be invited to sleep over? Can they walk in at any time? Is all socializing to be outside of the room? If your roomie’s friends come into the room while you are gone, will your roomie keep an eye on your stuff and vice versa? How will friends let you know that they’ve been by to see you? Do you have a message board for the door or will your roomie leave you a note?

Ø Sleeping, Studying and Late Night Hours. How much sleep do you and your roomie want to get a night? What conditions do you both need to sleep – dark, semi dark, nightlight, shades drawn, computer screen ok? What are your sleep patterns: are you a morning person or a night person? Do you sleep-walk or talk and how seriously are you to be taken if you randomly start talking at night? (I scared my room-mate the very first night by talking about a heart-attack in my sleep :D )

At some point, one of you is going to have to put in some late night hours or study or work. What are you going to do in this situation? Where will the night owl work? (Renee and I had a really nice system worked out. Whenever the first one of us wanted to go to bed, the other agreed to either put up her work and turn in also, or take the work out to the hall, study lounge, or library. We left a small flashlight in a designated place so that the late one wouldn’t have to turn on the lights when she finally went to bed. We both had our share of being the late one. In the morning, we usually got up together, but if one wanted to sleep longer, the other used the flashlight again [or just the morning light] to gather what she needed. If we went to bed at the same time, we asked each other what time each girl planned to get up so that we could plan accordingly and not be surprised in the morning.)

Ø Music, Cell Phones, TV, video games, singing, playing instruments. Talk about what’s acceptable when. Do you prefer your roommate to take long telephone calls outside of the room? Do you mind her playing music or watching television? Only at certain times? What other noisy/potentially distracting things bother each of you or would you both prefer to limit? Are there certain categories of media either of you has moral or religious objections to?

Ø Religious observance and Politics. Do either of you expect to use your room for any sort of religious activity and how does the other feel about that? (includes devotions and religious symbols/imagery.)How much of the other’s religion or political stance will the other one stomach? How much is too much? Agree to be sensitive and respectful if not totally in accord.

Ø Decorations, pictures, graphics. Do you have any strong feelings about how the room is decorated? (Do you really just loathe that Artic Cicada Boa Constrictor hanging from the ceiling above your roomie at night? Don’t make critical remarks about it that leave her wondering or feeling insulted – just gently tell her that it bothers you, why it does, and suggest an alternative arrangement for the honorable impossible snake. ) What genre of pictures is acceptable to both of you? (Make sure porn is not an option, even though this may seem obvious.)

Ø Conflict Resolution. At some point you guys are going to rub each other the wrong way. You’re human, adolescent, female, strangers, and in a tight space. C’mon, it’ll happen. And it’ll certainly be both of your fault when it does. Discuss how you both want to resolve controversy and conflict. If your room-mate needs to talk it out with someone besides you, who is alright? Obviously you don’t want your laundry spread around the dorm. Will you both trust the Resident Advisor or Resident Director to mediate? What about a mutual friend? Agree to talk to each other about problems before griping to others. Agree to take complaints, requests, and suggestions graciously. Agree to work together to solve problems. Talk about a cool-down time, if you really blow the top, so that you can have a little space from each other.

Ø Accountability, Care, and Keeping Tabs. How much do you want to keep track of each other? A campus can be a big place and there may not be many there who will stop to ask questions if you don’t show up to class. Do you want to know/tell your room-mate roughly where she/you will be that day so that you can cover each other’s safety? If one of you wants to go to a party or other place, is the other willing to come along for security? How much notice do you need of major changes in her routine/special events and vice versa? If one of you gets sick, what should the other one do? How much care can you or are you willing to give? Whom should you call? What do you do for each other in an emergency – i.e. who should be notified of what?

Ø Alcohol, Drugs, and Tobacco. First of all, what are the campus regulations for these things? Settle whether you and your room-mate are going to abide by the regs. Seriously! Within legality, what are your views, concerns, health needs, etc. concerning these things? What can you both not tolerate? What will one of you do if the other is acting illegally with these substances or has them in the room?

Ø Males. Are they allowed in the room? When and under what circumstances? What are they allowed to do in the room? What are they allowed to say in the room?

Side Note: Jammies probably shouldn’t be skimpy. There’ll probably be guys passing through the hall quite often if you’re in one of those dorm arrangements where guys are in one wing and girls in another separated by a stair. Running to a communal bathroom could get awkward. Bring a robe definitely if you’re not one of those who wear presentable PJs.

Ø Cleaning and Laundry. Who will clean your room and how often? Where will you put the laundry and trash? How often will each of you do your laundry? What level of tidiness is preferable? What level is barely tolerable?

Ø What will you do if one of you doesn’t abide by what you have agreed upon concerning the above?

· Be explicit. NO CONTEXT-RICH COMMUNICATION! Yes, we all love to leave things unsaid and simply understood between us. We like fun language with implicit meaning. RESIST THE URGE TO LEAVE THINGS MERELY “UNDERSTOOD” AND "UNSTATED!” It’ll just frustrate you both if you think you’ve said one thing, and your room-mate smiles and nods, thinking she’s understood you when she hasn’t or just doesn’t want to embarrass herself by asking what you mean. If your roomie uses context-rich language, SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE AND ASK HER WHAT SHE MEANS EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HER OR IF IT MAKE S YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT. It’ll save you grief later.

Say exactly what you mean in the clearest way possible (in so far as you can say exactly what you mean). At the same time, be tactful! Explain everything in the kindest way with the best possible interpretation of every scenario. If you are hurt by something your room-mate says or does, ask her about it. She probably doesn’t even realize she hurt you and likely didn’t mean you to take it in that way at all. If you hurt her, don’t be ashamed to apologize and ask her forgiveness. If she apologizes to you, don’t just mumble or look away or say, “That’s OK.” Such responses don’t bring closure to a bruised situation. Explicitly express forgiveness and bury the dead horse so neither you, she, or her friends can kick it again! (There’s my little context rich insertion into an otherwise explicit paragraph.)

· Identify communication barriers. Some people just don’t have the vocabulary you do. Words might be hard to find or might mean different things to her than they do to you. Hear with your heart and don’t pull her verbal message to shreds, even if it’s tempting. That won’t help anything. Recognize that the meaning she is trying to get across to you is probably not the exact literal meaning of her words, especially if she is worked up. Give her space and attention. Hear and try to understand before you talk. Summarize your understanding of her thoughts and let her clarify herself before you start to respond to her message.

RESIST THE URGE TO DEFEND / JUSTIFY YOURSELF! That’s the last thing you need when someone’s been intentionally or unintentionally hurt if you want to resolve the situation. Even if your intentions were good, somebody got hurt and you were part of the act that did it. Admit you blew it. It won’t hurt you to apologize. You won’t lose anything but your pride, and you’ve got more where that came from. :D (Too bad we can’t lose it all.) Not saying you can’t explain your good motivations – doing so will help your roomie understand why you did what you did – but make that PART of the apology, not preamble or modifier to it.

· Decide beforehand how you will deal with your little aggravations with your room-mate’s harmless quirks. Try your best not to show unnecessary irritation, especially with little qualities that are part of your room-mates personality. If they get too annoying, nicely ask her to cut down on them. She probably hasn’t a clue that they bug you.

· Please, acknowledge and be genial to your roomie’s friends. The last thing she needs is for you to ignore or belittle her friends – especially since she’s probably a little insecure in herself and in her new found friendships. You’re the only “family substitute” she’s got and she wants you to like and be nice to the people she’s trying to be friendly with. She wants them to like you. Don’t add to her stress, because you’ll be living with it. :D

· Remember that your roomie is NOT “out to get you.” She’s probably just as nervous and stressed as you are about living with another person. If you have to have a room-mate in the first place, it’s likely because there wasn’t enough room for everybody who wanted one to have a private room. That means that if she has to move out, she’ll probably end up rooming with the other person nobody wants to live with. She’s got a vested interest in making the room situation work.

My Mother always told me, “Never attribute to malice what can be accounted for by stupidity.” It’s good advice. The stupidity may even be your own and not hers.
Try to see problems and situations from her perspective. To do this, you have to ask about her perspective. When finding solutions to situations, make sure the solution will fix the problem from her perspective as well as your own.

· At the same time, don’t let her walk all over you either. Be firm when you need to be firm and KEEP YOUR WORD! If you said you would do something – do it, even if it’s something she’s not going to like. If you get into a situation where you are afraid of damage to yourself or your stuff from your room-mate, DON’T STAY IN THE SITUATION. Get help. Talk to your friends. Talk to your R.A and R.D. Talk to your parents.

· Remember that you both are females and have a lot of chemicals kicking around in your system. Eventually, both of you will probably start cycling in sync with each other. That means that if you are having a bad day, it’s likely that your roomie is too. Learn to recognize when you are being influenced by your physiology and not reality. Take a break and ride it out. Just try not to stress out about anything for a day or so. Things will likely look a lot brighter then and you’ll have a clearer perception of what’s going on. Your room-mate will too. Learn to recognize when your roomie is under stress as well. Learn to recognize when she just needs some space. Don’t take anything she says during these times personally. It’ll save you a lot of trouble.
I’d venture to bet that all my serious tension with my room-mate happened when one of us was either under extraordinary pressure, under hormonal influence, or didn’t look at things from the other person’s perspective. Most of the times, two or more of these things were combined.

· Your room-mate is either your most valuable ally or your most dangerous enemy in day to day life. Mundane living and nightly rest makes or breaks your academic life. This means that even if your roomie isn’t important to you as a person (because you’re a self-centered semi-truck ready to run everybody else off the road, or something like that) you still have a vested interest in her success, comfort, relaxation, and welfare. She’s not disposable. Invest time and concern in getting to know her, going out of your way to help and listen to her, and work at understanding her world. Her way of seeing the world might not make sense to you – but don’t ridicule it if it doesn’t. Yours probably looks just as silly to her. Finally, don’t give up if she has a bad day, or hide yourself away if you blow it. Keep praying for her, forgive, be forgiven, and make her concerns your own.

Yes, and I know I've forgotten something, but if you've gotten to the end of this post, you probably don't want to hear me repeat myself again!

A New Blog

Good Morning.



I should have gone to bed. Too late now. I wanted to get this done and once I get a project into my head, if I don't do it right then and there, I'll never get around to it. Hence I am awake with a splitting headache at 1:08am. Blah. (Unfortunately, the internet went out without telling me and I lost the majority of this post. Double Blah. Rewrite. Triple Blah.)

But, I put together a new blog. No, I'm not getting tired of this one. I love this little adiaphoron where I can scribble away at adiaphora and that which concerns it. But I needed a place for serious, heavy academic work not suited to my free and informal little blog.

You see, I put so much work into some of my academic papers that it seems unjust for them to be only read once and that by my professors. In hopes that someone will get some use out of them, I began a blog christened ΓΡΑΦΩ - I WRITE. Unlike The Adiaphoron, which I have purposely left open to all viewers, ΓΡΑΦΩ is viewable by invitation only both to protect the integrity of my academic work and to limit my audience.

Not everything I write will go up there. So far, only one paper from Hope College and five of my Augustine College papers struck me as suitable. But in this way, I can share what may be shared in hopes that it may be useful apart from the academic sphere alone.

So, if you've any bit of interest, just comment or drop me an email and I'll send you an invitation. It's not very exciting, so please, don't feel compelled or anything like that. It's just schoolwork.

Liturgy is Like Maccaroni and Cheese?

Every family makes Maccaroni and Cheese a little bit differently. And each member of the family fixes the family recipe a bit differently.

Some cook it out-of-the-box and some cook it "out of the box." Some make it from scratch. Some use oddly shaped noodles. Some put in veggies and some put in meat. Some put in extra cheese. A few put in hot sauce. Some sprinkle on parsley or offer it as an optional side. Some eat it as is.

Among the veggie adders, one may encounter the advocates of brocculi, carrots, peas, tomatoes, and stranger animals. Among the meat includers one might meet mixers-in of hot dogs, sausage, ham, or weirder substances. And the advocates of cheese besprinkle the mac with breeds as various as the possibilities of that fungal growth.

Those are more of the purist cooks. Then you get the ones who like to experiment and mix. The ones who throw in all the leftovers from the fridge and hope no one notices the incompatible tastes. Or the ones who change the recipe every week, startling the tastebuds into a sort of annoyance.

But even this is still Maccaroni and Cheese.

There are still the noodles and there is still the cheese. Other little practices more or less compatible with the noodles and cheese may be added, but the basis of the Maccaroni and Cheese remains the same.

It's when the cooks start forget about the noodles and the cheese that the eater of Maccaroni and Cheese should get nervous. When the dish becomes more about how many colors of veggies can be fit into it, or how many leftovers can be used up in the process, or how different it can taste from Mrs. X's maccaroni and cheese, the eater fights an urge to panic and go back to plain noodles and cheese - no embellishments.

I like fried perch - but please don't put it in my Maccaroni and Cheese. Hot dog chunks, in the right proportion and right context, can serve and bring out the flavor of the cheese and texture of the noodles, but not always. Sometimes the hot dogs can distract from the dish itself. Even brocculi in the wrong amount, or cooked incorrectly, can simply deter a child from eating and enjoying his Maccaroni and Cheese. Something about the stringy green against the yellow disgusts him - he just can't bring himself to put a spoonful in his mouth. Brocculi, most often a wonderful addition to any dish of Maccaroni and Cheese, has become a stumbling block keeping the child from eating his dinner, or enjoying it if he does taste it.

Embelishments are supposed to enhance the eating of the Maccaroni and Cheese. Where they don't, oughtn't they be left out or introduced gradually, so that the eater's tongue may come to find them palatable?

On the other hand, noodles and cheese cannot be disposed of and ought to be of the finest quality if they can be had. If one were to make Maccaroni and Cheese without noodles or cheese, it would cease to be the dish it was meant to be. Elbow maccaroni is good, but bowties set off the dish as a work of genuine art-cookery. Processed Cheese-Food is satisfactory and suitable for simple lunches, but genuine Cheddar suggests an entree of special quality and excellence for an occasion of the same.

Am I going crazy? If not, what have I forgotten in this nice little comparison?