'Nother Michael Card song. From his album, "The Early Works": this album has some of my favorites as well as least liked Michael Card songs, but oh, well. Here's one that often comes to mind when I'm feeling empty and futile.
Failed again to make the mark,
lost my way once more.
Tried to do it by myself
like so many times before.
Once again I turn to you,
I'm hungry and confused.
Now all my strength's dissolved away,
and I feel like I've been used.
If you leave me to myself, O Lord,
it will always be the same.
It's you who'll have to hold my hand,
and protect me by your name.
I turn and find you there for me,
You've been waiting all along.
In your arms the sweet relief,
and you whisper me a song.
At times like these I ask myself,
"How could I have ever strayed,
and forgotten all you've given me,
and lost sight of what you paid?"
If you leave me to myself, O Lord,
it will always be the same.
It's you who'll have to hold my hand,
and protect me by your name.
Hmm. Songs from "The Early Works" that I really like:
Love Crucified Arose
This Must Be The Lamb
Hound of Heaven
Dragonslayer
By Your Name
Songs from "The Early Works" that I like but have theologically questionable lines:
The Voice of the Child
Light of the World
Stranger on the Shore
No Rusty Swords
Don't You Know
Now That I've Held Him in My Arms
Songs from the "The Early Works" that make me cringe or squirm decidedly:
I Have Decided
Tell the World that Jesus Loves You
Jesus Loves Me
Showing posts with label grrrrr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grrrrr. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Phone Calls and Such
Has anyone seen Veith's post on phone conversations? Thought provoking.
I admit to feeling embarrassed calling specific people. Most of the embarrassment, though, seems to stem from a fear of being annoying or unwanted. I am alright with business calls, for the most part. One is expected to call about business, to straighten out one's affairs, and then to hang up. It's straightforward and no one objects. I enjoy getting personal calls, even though I'm often stilted, stammering and awkward on the phone. Personal-social calls tell me that the caller cares a lot. I mean, a TON. (It takes effort to carve out time for a call, and effort to maintain a conversation. It takes courage to reach out across the invisible miles to the unseen other and poke him/her in the shoulder. "Hey! Talk to me a bit. Please.")
Don't get me wrong. I like email. I appreciate email for the very reasons that at times I prefer phone conversations to email. With email one can precisely formulate one's words with deliberation, while phone conversations necessarily disallow deliberation. With email, one has a copy of what was said and can review the message at will to reassure one's self of the content and sender's meaning. With verbal messages, the words are distorted through memory. With email one has the opportunity to say much without interruption - to paint a landscape that takes concentration. A conversation necessarily involves a back and forth, a give and take. With email I personally am less inclined to hold back what I wish to talk about for fear that the other doesn't want to hear it. In a phone conversation or face to face conversation, I feel rude if I talk of myself uninvited, or talk long. The insidious little voice in my ear whispers that it doesn't really matter to anyone but me anyway - the listener is probably smiling and nodding politely with closed ear and thoughts afar. I could babble as well as any, but when I do, it leaves me feeling the emptier and more foolish because there is seldom a response that indicates anything other than the polite listener. Those who ask more, who draw me out, who respond genuinely, give me the best gift any humans have and I love them with a sinner's love (Even the pagans love those who love them). Among these are my father.
To sum up, I like phone calls because they are risky, unchoreographed, and pure grace. One must remember them in faith. I like email because I can control it, prepare it, return to it for (relative) certainty, and participate with low risk of rejection. Phone calls are dangerous because they put you in direct contact with another human being, their ambitions, aspirations, vocations, loves, hates, moods, babbling. Emails buffer you from all these things and put you in contact only with a mind - an almost disembodied mind - that can deal with you coolly as and when it will in a disembodied and removed manner.
As in the days of my infancy, blood and gore are more beautiful than unruffled clothes. The rag doll is more exciting than the stiff china maid. The fragile china makes one tingle with delight, while the disposable paper plate does not.
I admit to feeling embarrassed calling specific people. Most of the embarrassment, though, seems to stem from a fear of being annoying or unwanted. I am alright with business calls, for the most part. One is expected to call about business, to straighten out one's affairs, and then to hang up. It's straightforward and no one objects. I enjoy getting personal calls, even though I'm often stilted, stammering and awkward on the phone. Personal-social calls tell me that the caller cares a lot. I mean, a TON. (It takes effort to carve out time for a call, and effort to maintain a conversation. It takes courage to reach out across the invisible miles to the unseen other and poke him/her in the shoulder. "Hey! Talk to me a bit. Please.")
Don't get me wrong. I like email. I appreciate email for the very reasons that at times I prefer phone conversations to email. With email one can precisely formulate one's words with deliberation, while phone conversations necessarily disallow deliberation. With email, one has a copy of what was said and can review the message at will to reassure one's self of the content and sender's meaning. With verbal messages, the words are distorted through memory. With email one has the opportunity to say much without interruption - to paint a landscape that takes concentration. A conversation necessarily involves a back and forth, a give and take. With email I personally am less inclined to hold back what I wish to talk about for fear that the other doesn't want to hear it. In a phone conversation or face to face conversation, I feel rude if I talk of myself uninvited, or talk long. The insidious little voice in my ear whispers that it doesn't really matter to anyone but me anyway - the listener is probably smiling and nodding politely with closed ear and thoughts afar. I could babble as well as any, but when I do, it leaves me feeling the emptier and more foolish because there is seldom a response that indicates anything other than the polite listener. Those who ask more, who draw me out, who respond genuinely, give me the best gift any humans have and I love them with a sinner's love (Even the pagans love those who love them). Among these are my father.
To sum up, I like phone calls because they are risky, unchoreographed, and pure grace. One must remember them in faith. I like email because I can control it, prepare it, return to it for (relative) certainty, and participate with low risk of rejection. Phone calls are dangerous because they put you in direct contact with another human being, their ambitions, aspirations, vocations, loves, hates, moods, babbling. Emails buffer you from all these things and put you in contact only with a mind - an almost disembodied mind - that can deal with you coolly as and when it will in a disembodied and removed manner.
As in the days of my infancy, blood and gore are more beautiful than unruffled clothes. The rag doll is more exciting than the stiff china maid. The fragile china makes one tingle with delight, while the disposable paper plate does not.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Friday, December 11, 2009
Out of My Ken
Dear Reader,
I have a sad state of affairs to report. The girl who is ignorant of fashion, clothing names, and ettiquette will be attending a wedding where the dress code is "day formal." Advised by the bride that this should be in the area of "Christmas Sunday Best" and "less formal than evening", she is still very uncertain.
The authority on fashion whom I most respect has interpreted "day formal" to indicate an "afternoon dress", "tea gown", or "dinner dress". Google is not helping me visualize these very well. What I have gleaned of info merely tells me (I think?) that there ought to be a close-fitting bodice with a flowing skirt (and maybe a train?), that there should be gloves worn (?) and some other variable and frighteningly incomprehensible bits about gloves and things.
I'll admit I'm very intimidated. I've never owned a pair of dress gloves in my life, nor am I at all familiar with what fashionable clothing called by it's proper name actually looks like. I know work-wear like Carharts, overalls, steel-toe boots - ya know, functional clothing.
This is a constant problem for me whenever I step outside the borders of hill-billy land and college-student kingdom. I never know what is appropriate wear nor how to fit my current wardrobe to meet expected standards. I consistently find myself (by my own observation and comparison of my attire to those around me) overdressed or underdressed for the occasion - or simply dressed very differently. I'm not terribly concerned about conformity, but I do like to not draw attention to myself in social settings where there is an established expectation.
Therefore, I want to ask some very dumb, very specific questions:
Do I need to obtain gloves? What sort?
Do I need a hat? What material? What style? What color?
Is a particular sort of shoes required? What sort/color/build?
What does the proper dress look like?
Grateful for any light on the topic,
TQ
I have a sad state of affairs to report. The girl who is ignorant of fashion, clothing names, and ettiquette will be attending a wedding where the dress code is "day formal." Advised by the bride that this should be in the area of "Christmas Sunday Best" and "less formal than evening", she is still very uncertain.
The authority on fashion whom I most respect has interpreted "day formal" to indicate an "afternoon dress", "tea gown", or "dinner dress". Google is not helping me visualize these very well. What I have gleaned of info merely tells me (I think?) that there ought to be a close-fitting bodice with a flowing skirt (and maybe a train?), that there should be gloves worn (?) and some other variable and frighteningly incomprehensible bits about gloves and things.
I'll admit I'm very intimidated. I've never owned a pair of dress gloves in my life, nor am I at all familiar with what fashionable clothing called by it's proper name actually looks like. I know work-wear like Carharts, overalls, steel-toe boots - ya know, functional clothing.
This is a constant problem for me whenever I step outside the borders of hill-billy land and college-student kingdom. I never know what is appropriate wear nor how to fit my current wardrobe to meet expected standards. I consistently find myself (by my own observation and comparison of my attire to those around me) overdressed or underdressed for the occasion - or simply dressed very differently. I'm not terribly concerned about conformity, but I do like to not draw attention to myself in social settings where there is an established expectation.
Therefore, I want to ask some very dumb, very specific questions:
Do I need to obtain gloves? What sort?
Do I need a hat? What material? What style? What color?
Is a particular sort of shoes required? What sort/color/build?
What does the proper dress look like?
Grateful for any light on the topic,
TQ
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Need for Caution: Contrition
I've become abruptly aware recently that many of the sayings and metaphorical phrases which I grew up hearing and using in a clean and witty sense may be understood in an unclean, perverted sense. I shall have to exercise much caution if I mean to keep my communication as clear as my thought.
To all my friends and readers: Forgive me if I have unintentionally said something offensive, suggestive, or improper. If it occurs again, please correct me and clarify. Apologies in advance.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, that's ok too.
To all my friends and readers: Forgive me if I have unintentionally said something offensive, suggestive, or improper. If it occurs again, please correct me and clarify. Apologies in advance.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, that's ok too.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Because I am an Epistemophiliac...
Reader,
I crave this book. I found it in the library yesterday and it is amazing:
Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure, and Preposterous Words.
From this book, my friend and I learned yesterday that we are both "epistemophiliacs" and have since used that word rather randomly.
Is rediscovering her love for words and language, philosophy and debate. ARG.
I crave this book. I found it in the library yesterday and it is amazing:
Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure, and Preposterous Words.
From this book, my friend and I learned yesterday that we are both "epistemophiliacs" and have since used that word rather randomly.
Is rediscovering her love for words and language, philosophy and debate. ARG.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Just Wanted to Say
People,
You are blogging faster than I can follow you. I haven't read the Blackbirds for over a month and I see I'm missing out on some good stuff. I haven't caught up on Pasto's stuff either! And as for Liturgical stuff, Cultural stuff, and Bioethical stuff, well! That's taken a serious hike. And please don't be offended if I'm not commenting on personal blogses. *implores on knees* I'm trying to skim them 'bout once/week or so, but, whew! they get away from me.
But I took a minute after lecture today to check out some resources for me as a Nursing student and woman.
National Association of Prolife Nurses : These guys are BOLD and take it beyond abortion. Read their Policies under the Resources link. I'm considering joining.
Michigan Nurses for Life : also great.
Feminists for Life: I'll definitely be thinking about this one. I like it when women challenge the meaning and connotations that "feminism" has taken on in this culture. Being a woman does not mean being as much like a man as I can be. :P
So, yeah. News:
I'm doing fine. Not dead yet (see a previous post for image status. Wow, Eowyn's really lookin' good in that picture considerin' the circumstances. :P ).
Nursing classes are going great! I'm really enjoying the lectures and the lab skills because they both engage the mind in critical thinking and focus on real human beings and their individual needs in every aspect of life. Nursing is holistic care of the patient as a human being, and that is what I've always wanted to do without knowing how to state it in such terms. My professors are wonderful, especially the lead professor for this semester. She's no-nonsense, but has a wonderful sense of humor and a passion and concern for patients and students. She's not going to baby us: if we want this training, we have to throw ourselves into learning. But she's a caring and effective teacher even while she demands a full return.
The reading for the classes is IMMENSE. And I'm not kidding. We had double digit numbers of chapters assigned for the first day! I thought I read a lot for Augustine! Ha! (Well, I admit that I didn't do all the reading for Augustine College that I was supposed to - Music, for instance and the Art supplement occasionally. :P) But I've found (and been given) some strategies for picking out the information I need and moving on through, so once I get into a rhythm, I think I'll be fine.
As the week goes along, I'm my confidence is picking up a bit, which is very important. I was a bit worried by my own lack of self-confidence, initially, because I knew it would pose problems for motivation, info retention, test-taking, relating to professors, anxiety, sleep, etc.
My hybrid (online) course, Nutrition, meets on Saturday. Blah. I loathe online classes and Saturday meetings don't tickle me either, but, heh, I guess it spreads classes out a bit. Math for Meds challenges me - not with complicated concepts, but with my own slowness. I'm not a speedy mental calculator and I haven't had a math class in 2 years. Ouch! It's getting better as I work through the practice problem sets. Ooooh! and I am taking voice lessons with a Dominican monk! I can't really explain why that tickles me pink, but, if you know me at all, you might have a general idea. ;)
Alshoooooo, I'm reading the Apostolic Fathers for an idependent patristic study dealie-thing with Pasto' and am suitably thrill-ed. I finished I Clement and II Clement (albeit misnomered) while camping.
So, yeah.
gtts, any one? What about a grain? Silly apothecary system of measurment. Mutters. As I delight to share jewels of wisdom, "gtts" is short hand for "drop." Go figure. A grain is an (archaic) apothecary measurement and is equivalent to 60 milligrams. We have to be familiar with it because apparently old docs don't learn new tricks. :P (Yes, I know, mixed metaphor. Gotta stop doing that. It's just so much fun!)
Can you tell I'm a little tired and hungry and happy after a few stressful days?
Ending ramble now: press any key to continue.
You are blogging faster than I can follow you. I haven't read the Blackbirds for over a month and I see I'm missing out on some good stuff. I haven't caught up on Pasto's stuff either! And as for Liturgical stuff, Cultural stuff, and Bioethical stuff, well! That's taken a serious hike. And please don't be offended if I'm not commenting on personal blogses. *implores on knees* I'm trying to skim them 'bout once/week or so, but, whew! they get away from me.
But I took a minute after lecture today to check out some resources for me as a Nursing student and woman.
National Association of Prolife Nurses : These guys are BOLD and take it beyond abortion. Read their Policies under the Resources link. I'm considering joining.
Michigan Nurses for Life : also great.
Feminists for Life: I'll definitely be thinking about this one. I like it when women challenge the meaning and connotations that "feminism" has taken on in this culture. Being a woman does not mean being as much like a man as I can be. :P
So, yeah. News:
I'm doing fine. Not dead yet (see a previous post for image status. Wow, Eowyn's really lookin' good in that picture considerin' the circumstances. :P ).
Nursing classes are going great! I'm really enjoying the lectures and the lab skills because they both engage the mind in critical thinking and focus on real human beings and their individual needs in every aspect of life. Nursing is holistic care of the patient as a human being, and that is what I've always wanted to do without knowing how to state it in such terms. My professors are wonderful, especially the lead professor for this semester. She's no-nonsense, but has a wonderful sense of humor and a passion and concern for patients and students. She's not going to baby us: if we want this training, we have to throw ourselves into learning. But she's a caring and effective teacher even while she demands a full return.
The reading for the classes is IMMENSE. And I'm not kidding. We had double digit numbers of chapters assigned for the first day! I thought I read a lot for Augustine! Ha! (Well, I admit that I didn't do all the reading for Augustine College that I was supposed to - Music, for instance and the Art supplement occasionally. :P) But I've found (and been given) some strategies for picking out the information I need and moving on through, so once I get into a rhythm, I think I'll be fine.
As the week goes along, I'm my confidence is picking up a bit, which is very important. I was a bit worried by my own lack of self-confidence, initially, because I knew it would pose problems for motivation, info retention, test-taking, relating to professors, anxiety, sleep, etc.
My hybrid (online) course, Nutrition, meets on Saturday. Blah. I loathe online classes and Saturday meetings don't tickle me either, but, heh, I guess it spreads classes out a bit. Math for Meds challenges me - not with complicated concepts, but with my own slowness. I'm not a speedy mental calculator and I haven't had a math class in 2 years. Ouch! It's getting better as I work through the practice problem sets. Ooooh! and I am taking voice lessons with a Dominican monk! I can't really explain why that tickles me pink, but, if you know me at all, you might have a general idea. ;)
Alshoooooo, I'm reading the Apostolic Fathers for an idependent patristic study dealie-thing with Pasto' and am suitably thrill-ed. I finished I Clement and II Clement (albeit misnomered) while camping.
So, yeah.
gtts, any one? What about a grain? Silly apothecary system of measurment. Mutters. As I delight to share jewels of wisdom, "gtts" is short hand for "drop." Go figure. A grain is an (archaic) apothecary measurement and is equivalent to 60 milligrams. We have to be familiar with it because apparently old docs don't learn new tricks. :P (Yes, I know, mixed metaphor. Gotta stop doing that. It's just so much fun!)
Can you tell I'm a little tired and hungry and happy after a few stressful days?
Ending ramble now: press any key to continue.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Gar! (Not the Fish - The Other Kind)
I can't think anymore about Luther and Augustine. They're driving me nuts! I think I finally understand where they differ on the Will, but I sure hope and pray that what I'm writing makes as much sense to my professor as it does to me. Augustine (St) is so slippery sometimes!
To make it very, very simple, I think it's like this.
Augustine: Free Will.
"Salvation by Grace" recipe: God gratuitously gives a "good will" to evil merit, then helps the "good will" with grace so that the "good will" does good works which constitute good merit which is rewarded with eternal life.
Luther: Enslaved Will.
"Salvation by Grace" recipe: God gives faith to believe Gospel of salvation. Faith justifies because Christ's works are vicariously applied, thus fulfilling the law, without any works of the man justified.
To make it very, very simple, I think it's like this.
Augustine: Free Will.
"Salvation by Grace" recipe: God gratuitously gives a "good will" to evil merit, then helps the "good will" with grace so that the "good will" does good works which constitute good merit which is rewarded with eternal life.
Luther: Enslaved Will.
"Salvation by Grace" recipe: God gives faith to believe Gospel of salvation. Faith justifies because Christ's works are vicariously applied, thus fulfilling the law, without any works of the man justified.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Missing Supper
Slam a hole right in the middle of my nice day: I missed supper.
Ok, so maybe God has a reason for me to miss supper. I'm not complaining. But I guess I'd really, really like to.
I'm considering foraging in the basement to see if our Resident Director left any munchies in the fridge.
Homework on an empty stomach just won't be the same. Ugh! I guess forty days and forty nights is a whole lot longer to fast than just missing one meal. And praying on an empty stomach can't be any easier than studying!
Ok, so maybe God has a reason for me to miss supper. I'm not complaining. But I guess I'd really, really like to.
I'm considering foraging in the basement to see if our Resident Director left any munchies in the fridge.
Homework on an empty stomach just won't be the same. Ugh! I guess forty days and forty nights is a whole lot longer to fast than just missing one meal. And praying on an empty stomach can't be any easier than studying!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
A Conversation: Sorry
This isn't one of my most interesting posts (at least, it's not of the caliber of the posts I really keep this blog for) but I had to record a certain conversation which may shed light on the characteristic character of a couple characters.Understand that this is a shortened paraphrase of what took place, but Snap can testify to its overall veracity. I wish I could remember it as it happened, it would be more interesting that way, but I can't.
tq: Oh! Ow. My foot really hurts!
snap: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to crush your foot with the seat.
tq: I know that, and I already told you that I forgive you.
A few minutes later, tq moves her foot to the brake and groans again.
snap: I'm soo sorry, TQ!
tq: It's ok. I told you I forgive you. Stop saying you are sorry.
snap: I'm sorry.
tq: No, no, no. Don't be sorry for being sorry. I just want to groan without you saying you are sorry again.
snap: Sorry.
tq: Stop saying sorry! I forgave you and I'm really, truly not mad at you. But if you keep saying sorry I'm might get upset.
snap: Sorry.
tq: When you say, "sorry," I feel guilty for making you sorry and then I feel sorry. Please, please, stop saying you are sorry.
snap: Sorry!
tq: {laughs}.................................
tq: Oh! Ow. My foot really hurts!
snap: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to crush your foot with the seat.
tq: I know that, and I already told you that I forgive you.
A few minutes later, tq moves her foot to the brake and groans again.
snap: I'm soo sorry, TQ!
tq: It's ok. I told you I forgive you. Stop saying you are sorry.
snap: I'm sorry.
tq: No, no, no. Don't be sorry for being sorry. I just want to groan without you saying you are sorry again.
snap: Sorry.
tq: Stop saying sorry! I forgave you and I'm really, truly not mad at you. But if you keep saying sorry I'm might get upset.
snap: Sorry.
tq: When you say, "sorry," I feel guilty for making you sorry and then I feel sorry. Please, please, stop saying you are sorry.
snap: Sorry!
tq: {laughs}.................................
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Snuffling up Shampoo.
Someone please explain to me how it is possible to accidentally sniff a quantity of shampoo into one's nose thereby burning the nostrils and pharynx and such areas of the airway.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Carpal Tunnel?
I honestly am having a hard time believing it. Of all the weird medical conditions I’ve worried about contracting, it seems incredulous to likely be afflicted with carpal tunnel at the age of seventeen. It’s not right!
I wake up in the middle of the night to dead hands; hands which sense nothing but a vague tingling and do not move well. They have completely “fallen asleep” and I can feel the lack of blood flow. I must gingerly clench and unclench my hands while vigorously whacking them onto my knees for a few minutes before I can feel blood flow returning and sensation becomes normal. Ugh. My hands even lose feeling while I'm driving down the highway!
At first I thought this was normal – just a quirk of my personal physiology. Then I asked Mom and she comfortingly said, “You’ve probably just got a bit of Carpal Tunnel.” Great!
I suppose it is because I use my hands so much. When I’m not writing, I’m milking. When I’m not milking, writing, or folding paper critters I’m either reading or asleep or eating. Maybe I should give my hands a rest. But I don’t want to. I need my hands to live my life.
Hmm. Sounds like I’m scared of losing control. Maybe I am.
But I shouldn’t be. The fact of the matter is that I was never in control to start with. I may be worrying about a condition that I don’t even have. On the other hand, the carpal tunnel may be very real and I may never get rid of it. If that’s God’s will, who am I to complain? My life is just as safe and secure as it was before my hands started bugging me at night; my life is hidden with Christ in God. Really, nothing has changed.
Hmm. really selfcentered post stop needs to be ended stop ending now stop
I wake up in the middle of the night to dead hands; hands which sense nothing but a vague tingling and do not move well. They have completely “fallen asleep” and I can feel the lack of blood flow. I must gingerly clench and unclench my hands while vigorously whacking them onto my knees for a few minutes before I can feel blood flow returning and sensation becomes normal. Ugh. My hands even lose feeling while I'm driving down the highway!
At first I thought this was normal – just a quirk of my personal physiology. Then I asked Mom and she comfortingly said, “You’ve probably just got a bit of Carpal Tunnel.” Great!
I suppose it is because I use my hands so much. When I’m not writing, I’m milking. When I’m not milking, writing, or folding paper critters I’m either reading or asleep or eating. Maybe I should give my hands a rest. But I don’t want to. I need my hands to live my life.
Hmm. Sounds like I’m scared of losing control. Maybe I am.
But I shouldn’t be. The fact of the matter is that I was never in control to start with. I may be worrying about a condition that I don’t even have. On the other hand, the carpal tunnel may be very real and I may never get rid of it. If that’s God’s will, who am I to complain? My life is just as safe and secure as it was before my hands started bugging me at night; my life is hidden with Christ in God. Really, nothing has changed.
Hmm. really selfcentered post stop needs to be ended stop ending now stop
Friday, April 18, 2008
XX is a Female, NO MATTER WHAT!
If one more person says anything about this person's baby, I think I will retch.
Yes, I know that that is graphic. Maybe I won't vomit, but I'll at least scream.
This subject seems to have come up in every single class for the last week! It doesn't help that we're discussing reproductive mechanisms in Physiology today.
It's very interesting to note how many people seem to take all their current events information from Opra (did I spell that right?)
I don't care what "surgical alterations" were done, as far as I'm concerned, "it" is a woman, always was and always will be, no matter what kind of perversions she engages in.
It's just wrong, but I don't dare scream that in class.
...Hmmm. I wonder what would happen if I did raise a ruckus the next time the topic comes up...So what if I'm "intolerant"? Why won't they "tolerate" me? Maybe I should try this as an experiment.
GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Yes, I know that that is graphic. Maybe I won't vomit, but I'll at least scream.
This subject seems to have come up in every single class for the last week! It doesn't help that we're discussing reproductive mechanisms in Physiology today.
It's very interesting to note how many people seem to take all their current events information from Opra (did I spell that right?)
I don't care what "surgical alterations" were done, as far as I'm concerned, "it" is a woman, always was and always will be, no matter what kind of perversions she engages in.
It's just wrong, but I don't dare scream that in class.
...Hmmm. I wonder what would happen if I did raise a ruckus the next time the topic comes up...So what if I'm "intolerant"? Why won't they "tolerate" me? Maybe I should try this as an experiment.
GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Monday, March 31, 2008
If only I could rest my feet flat on the floor!
I do so wish my feet would reach the floor!
I mean, my toes can touch, but I can't place my feet flat without sitting uncomfortably on the very edge of the seat and even then, the pressure is most uncomfortable - especially on college seating.
In order to maintain the comfortable upright sitting position resting against the back of a chair, I must push hard against the floor with the tips of my toes to avoid pinching the nerves and blood vessels in my lower limbs. When my feet swing, I can feel the blood pooling and creating pressure. As the feeling of pressure or fatigue of toe increases, I eventually revert to the position I like least in an attempt to thwart the mounting discomfort. Scooching to the mid center of the chair and reclining in a slouch against the back rest, I stretch my feet as far forward as possible in order to rest my heels on the ground instead of my toes and fold my arms to maintain a compact balance upon the chair. But this posture seems to tell my instructors that I am bored. I mean no disrespect, you understand, but I can't help this.
Eventually, even this posture becomes uncomfortable, so I wriggle again to the former pinching, leg swinging one.
This routine continually cycles interrupting my concentration upon subjects as interesting as Urinary Physiology.
I can't stand always shifting position.
Maybe I should bring a foot-stool to class!
I mean, my toes can touch, but I can't place my feet flat without sitting uncomfortably on the very edge of the seat and even then, the pressure is most uncomfortable - especially on college seating.
In order to maintain the comfortable upright sitting position resting against the back of a chair, I must push hard against the floor with the tips of my toes to avoid pinching the nerves and blood vessels in my lower limbs. When my feet swing, I can feel the blood pooling and creating pressure. As the feeling of pressure or fatigue of toe increases, I eventually revert to the position I like least in an attempt to thwart the mounting discomfort. Scooching to the mid center of the chair and reclining in a slouch against the back rest, I stretch my feet as far forward as possible in order to rest my heels on the ground instead of my toes and fold my arms to maintain a compact balance upon the chair. But this posture seems to tell my instructors that I am bored. I mean no disrespect, you understand, but I can't help this.
Eventually, even this posture becomes uncomfortable, so I wriggle again to the former pinching, leg swinging one.
This routine continually cycles interrupting my concentration upon subjects as interesting as Urinary Physiology.
I can't stand always shifting position.
Maybe I should bring a foot-stool to class!
Friday, March 28, 2008
I am NOT poultry!
Be it officially known and proclaimed through out all the land:
Truth Questioner is NOT a small, cute, fluffy, yellow, bird!
Woe to Aaron Garcia and all others who would adress her as such!
"Hey, chick from my speech class! How's it going?"
I hate loiterers in the Arts Building. They're weird. Loiterers in the science building are normal people. Loiterer's in the Psyche/History/ Philosophy building are somewhat stranger. But the kids that hang around the Arts Building are just....ugh....obnoxious and WEIRD. For the most part. I do know some un-weird people that frequent that building, but for the most part, I wouldn't want to be alone with the ear-ringed, tattoed, guitar-playing, hair-messed-up guys who always seem to be congregated in the little lobby snacking, loudly jesting, and idly strumming guitars. Don't get me wrong - I like guitars. Dad even plays one. But I don't usually feel totally safe around the guitar guys at college.
I had a wonderful voice lesson - the best so far! I even made it up to high F (perfectly, so said my instructor)! And because I had forgotten my music at home, but happened to have my hymnal with me, I was able to sing a good many of these familiar songs I love, plus a smattering of various classical pieces. I think that's what did it. The familiarity really loosened up all the vocal cords and gave me some small bit of confidence.
Then I tried to leave. And as I was walking out the door, 'Mr.' Garcia looks up from his guitar strumming and accosts me in the previously stated manner. I was rather uncertain about what I should do - I didn't wish to be rude. But in my eagerness to be out of that place, I ignored the inquiry and pushed open the front doors just in barely in time to hear that kid tell the rest of the assemby that, "That chick is in my speech class."
When I returned home, The Perfect One gave me a great response which I could have used had I been thinking. I ought to have said that I was unaware that the college allowed poultry in speech classes....
Truth Questioner is NOT a small, cute, fluffy, yellow, bird!
Woe to Aaron Garcia and all others who would adress her as such!
"Hey, chick from my speech class! How's it going?"
I hate loiterers in the Arts Building. They're weird. Loiterers in the science building are normal people. Loiterer's in the Psyche/History/ Philosophy building are somewhat stranger. But the kids that hang around the Arts Building are just....ugh....obnoxious and WEIRD. For the most part. I do know some un-weird people that frequent that building, but for the most part, I wouldn't want to be alone with the ear-ringed, tattoed, guitar-playing, hair-messed-up guys who always seem to be congregated in the little lobby snacking, loudly jesting, and idly strumming guitars. Don't get me wrong - I like guitars. Dad even plays one. But I don't usually feel totally safe around the guitar guys at college.
I had a wonderful voice lesson - the best so far! I even made it up to high F (perfectly, so said my instructor)! And because I had forgotten my music at home, but happened to have my hymnal with me, I was able to sing a good many of these familiar songs I love, plus a smattering of various classical pieces. I think that's what did it. The familiarity really loosened up all the vocal cords and gave me some small bit of confidence.
Then I tried to leave. And as I was walking out the door, 'Mr.' Garcia looks up from his guitar strumming and accosts me in the previously stated manner. I was rather uncertain about what I should do - I didn't wish to be rude. But in my eagerness to be out of that place, I ignored the inquiry and pushed open the front doors just in barely in time to hear that kid tell the rest of the assemby that, "That chick is in my speech class."
When I returned home, The Perfect One gave me a great response which I could have used had I been thinking. I ought to have said that I was unaware that the college allowed poultry in speech classes....
Thursday, March 20, 2008
They That Sit in Moses Seat.
http://crazyvogelhaver.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-thought-i-was-sick-before.html
Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, "The scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, so practice and observe whatever they tell you - but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger." Matt.23:1-4
Just a thought.
Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, "The scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, so practice and observe whatever they tell you - but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger." Matt.23:1-4
Just a thought.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Grant Lord Jesus that My Healing
Grant Lord Jesus that my healing in your holy wounds I find. Cleanse my spirit will and feeling, heal my body soul and mind. When some evil thought within, tempts my wayward heart to sin, work in me for its eviction, weighted by your crucifixion.
I don't know what to do. I mean, I do, but I don't. It's wrong, horribly, repulsively wrong, but I don't know what to do about it or even if I can do anything about it. I feel soiled, filthy, violated.
Every so often, we watch a movie in Interpersonal Communication to illustrate a concept. Is it just the films we view here or are all movies really so violent, so devoid of godliness, so vile, suggestive and lewd? I don't watch movies enough to know.
What shocks me most is that these films that are so repugnant to my conscience are loudly acclaimed even by classmates who call themselves "Christian" and whose opinions often correspond to my own.
I find myself many times compelled to turn my eyes, to stop my ears at the profanity. I feel my face tensing into a contorted grimace at the disgusting, vile images, words and actions portrayed as entertainment.
How can I as a child of God respond to, and deal with such perversity? I know I have freedom in the Gospel, but contrary to what some might say, that freedom is not freedom to absorb or relish thoughts, sights and words dishonoring to my Father. Should I not come to class on these days? But then I will have no ability to participate in class discussion later. Should I attend but actively turn away from perverse themes and words? Sounds feasible, but in actuality is impossible because every other phrase often carries immoral connotations.
How in the world can I combat this? Oh blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sin is covered! Right now, I do not feel like that one.
I don't know what to do. I mean, I do, but I don't. It's wrong, horribly, repulsively wrong, but I don't know what to do about it or even if I can do anything about it. I feel soiled, filthy, violated.
Every so often, we watch a movie in Interpersonal Communication to illustrate a concept. Is it just the films we view here or are all movies really so violent, so devoid of godliness, so vile, suggestive and lewd? I don't watch movies enough to know.
What shocks me most is that these films that are so repugnant to my conscience are loudly acclaimed even by classmates who call themselves "Christian" and whose opinions often correspond to my own.
I find myself many times compelled to turn my eyes, to stop my ears at the profanity. I feel my face tensing into a contorted grimace at the disgusting, vile images, words and actions portrayed as entertainment.
How can I as a child of God respond to, and deal with such perversity? I know I have freedom in the Gospel, but contrary to what some might say, that freedom is not freedom to absorb or relish thoughts, sights and words dishonoring to my Father. Should I not come to class on these days? But then I will have no ability to participate in class discussion later. Should I attend but actively turn away from perverse themes and words? Sounds feasible, but in actuality is impossible because every other phrase often carries immoral connotations.
How in the world can I combat this? Oh blessed is he whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sin is covered! Right now, I do not feel like that one.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Research Papers and NO TIME LEFT
It can't really be 10:30 can it? I just deplore research papers. Why did the computer have to crash and lose all my sources? Why couldn't it have lost the page of sources that didn't matter instead of the crucial one that took me half the morning to write up? Why does the source and content cards (at least 30 of these) have to be due Thursday? I'm not going to get any school work done Wednesday or Thursday with the Seder prep on top of a full day of classes. I know I'm whining. I should cease, desist. I guess I'll check back in on this post after I'm finished rewriting. Who wants to bet that that'll be after 2am? Me! But no - the better bet is that I'll fall asleep and wake up at 8am - too late to get anything done. That would just frost the cake, wouldn't it?
I wish, I wish .....that I could have made the Baklava today - I always make that for the Seder. Mom ended up making it because I had too much work. I hope, I hope.....that Violet holds off on kidding til Friday - I just don't have time to deal with heater-less kids in the cold and a usually apathetic doe. I just want sleep, and church, and more sleep, then church again - forget research papers. But I guess that is my vocation as a student right now, so I'll quite wishing and hoping and get back to work!
I wish, I wish .....that I could have made the Baklava today - I always make that for the Seder. Mom ended up making it because I had too much work. I hope, I hope.....that Violet holds off on kidding til Friday - I just don't have time to deal with heater-less kids in the cold and a usually apathetic doe. I just want sleep, and church, and more sleep, then church again - forget research papers. But I guess that is my vocation as a student right now, so I'll quite wishing and hoping and get back to work!
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Help! Someone save me! Quick!
My face is completely covered with disgusting clay. I absolutely detest it. Why, Why must I wear makeup for the graduation photo? I've never in my life even worn lipstick before! Now, not only am I wearing lipstick, but am smothered in foundation, base, some other unknown powder and touched up with mascara and lipstick. All applied by Mom. I know she knows what she's doing, but the final effect looks anything but nice, despite her protests to the contrary. That nasty clay is cracked and unsmooth. I look so fake it's disgusting! I want to cry, but that will make the paint run. I want to scream, but that will make an already stressed out Mom even more stressed out. I've got one hour to finish all my homework for Co-op. AWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How can girls stand to be smothered with this stuff day after day? I just about suffocated while mom was putting it on! I know that I don't look the nicest with all the acne and red splotches on my natural face, but that is how I am and I'm not ashamed to show people how God made me. But even that not so pretty natural face looks a thousand times better than this smear of brown and pinkish goo.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
I'll just have to keep repeating the fourth commandment under my breath to prevent myself from washing it all off.
And lest I even consider such a thing, Mom warned me that if I wash off the make-up, it will leave ugly dark patches under my eyes for several days. Lovely!
I will be soooooo glad to take this gruesome, grotesque, uncomfortable, silly, grimy, clay-y, nasty, abominable, detestable, fake, fabricated, coquetish, useless, pointless, vain, brownish, timewasting, foul, revolting, offensive, nauseating, vile, ghastly, obnoxious, disagreeable, distasteful, counterfeit, bogus, false, spurious, bizzare, ugly, brazen, indiscreet, brash, garish, vulgar, gawdy, shabby, shoddy, low, base, repugnant, despicable, loathsome, odious, sickening, tan-ish, cracking, grubby, caked, encrusted, gritty, smudged, MASK OFF MY FACE!
Uh, just so everybody is clear. I'm rereading this post after a day of reflection and I want to make sure that I'm not saying what I don't want to say. I have nothing against make-up.....on other people. I simply hate it on myself. I hope nobody was offended if they or someone they look up to commonly wears makeup. I was simply commenting on a personal preference. Sorry for any confusion. I most certainly do not attach moral significance to the use of make-up.
How can girls stand to be smothered with this stuff day after day? I just about suffocated while mom was putting it on! I know that I don't look the nicest with all the acne and red splotches on my natural face, but that is how I am and I'm not ashamed to show people how God made me. But even that not so pretty natural face looks a thousand times better than this smear of brown and pinkish goo.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
I'll just have to keep repeating the fourth commandment under my breath to prevent myself from washing it all off.
And lest I even consider such a thing, Mom warned me that if I wash off the make-up, it will leave ugly dark patches under my eyes for several days. Lovely!
I will be soooooo glad to take this gruesome, grotesque, uncomfortable, silly, grimy, clay-y, nasty, abominable, detestable, fake, fabricated, coquetish, useless, pointless, vain, brownish, timewasting, foul, revolting, offensive, nauseating, vile, ghastly, obnoxious, disagreeable, distasteful, counterfeit, bogus, false, spurious, bizzare, ugly, brazen, indiscreet, brash, garish, vulgar, gawdy, shabby, shoddy, low, base, repugnant, despicable, loathsome, odious, sickening, tan-ish, cracking, grubby, caked, encrusted, gritty, smudged, MASK OFF MY FACE!
Uh, just so everybody is clear. I'm rereading this post after a day of reflection and I want to make sure that I'm not saying what I don't want to say. I have nothing against make-up.....on other people. I simply hate it on myself. I hope nobody was offended if they or someone they look up to commonly wears makeup. I was simply commenting on a personal preference. Sorry for any confusion. I most certainly do not attach moral significance to the use of make-up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
