transitional ruminations

I feel as though I'm overdue in penning some words about the cultural transition that Ed and I have been going through. To begin, I'd like to grace you with a top ten list that illustrates one of the frustrations that goes along with transitioning, namely, the fact that people often don't know what to say to us. (Please note that I am not angry over these utterances, but frustrated.)

Top Ten Things NOT To Say To Cultural Transitioners And Why
(in random order, though I have a particular dislike for #s 5 and 7)

1. How was your trip?
It wasn't a trip. It wasn't a vacation. It was my life. Please to be noticing the difference, thank you. ;o)

2. We've been praying for you to come back.
I think I know what you mean when you say that, and you might think that's a lovely sentiment. But when you say that, what I hear is that you've been praying for me to be separated from people and places I love. That's neither helpful nor encouraging.

3. You've got a lot of time on your hands now! You could (fill in blank with an activity or a job for which I have expressed no interest).
I didn't come back here with no plan of what I want to do with my life. This was not a spontaneous, frivolous decision. Much thought and prayer and planning went into it. Please don't assume I'm sitting around, bored, with nothing to do, just waiting for you to come rescue me with ideas that would make *you* happy.

4. Oh, you were in XLand? I was in XLand back in the '70s....XLanders are so (fill in the blank with a prejudice you developed while you were over there for two years 30 years ago).
Please don't assume your experiences were my experiences. Also, please refrain from telling me, based on your few months' experience, what the people of my homeland are like. Not to be snotty, but I do believe I know them better than you do.

5. Adjusting? Oh, give it a couple of months, you'll be fine.
I see. And the last time you went through cross-cultural reentry was...? Oh, you've never left your home state? Ah.

6. It's so good to have you back. I don't know why anyone would want to leave here in the first place.
(Okay, so nobody has said these words to me directly....but the implication is all over the place.) Well, probably because God created a whole, huge, interesting planet that I want to know about, not just a single continent.

7. I bet you're proud to be back.
I'm sorry, but I don't even know what that statement means.

8. It's good to have you back.
Why? You've never had more than two or three conversations with me. You don't know me. How could my presence possibly signify in your life one way or the other?
(Note: This truly applies only to those who haven't made an effort to get to know the returnee. If you do know me, and if you have made the effort, it is definitely heart-warming to hear you say that you're thankful for my being here!)

9. Aren't you glad to be back?
Yes. No. Maybe. Sometimes, the answer changes from one hour to the next. If you're not prepared to listen to an answer you don't really want to hear, please don't ask.

10. We're so glad to have you home.
This isn't my home. For one thing, I didn't grow up here. From that perspective, I haven't lived in my "home" for 12 years. For another, I spent the last 6 years building relationships and planting roots somewhere far removed from here. This isn't my home. This is your home. On this earth, I don't have a home. And actually, I'd like it to stay that way.

11. Unspecified.
Open to anyone who wants to share some of their own experiences of being on the receiving end of remarks of this sort, as well as dealing graciously with them. I don't always. Especially when it's stuff like #s 5 and 7. ;o)


Looking over the last 8 months (we have been here over 8 months--that is so weird), I can see a lot of lows, a lot of highs, a few plateaus, and some banged-up knees and elbows as we've tripped and fallen and sprawled flat on our faces and gotten back up again. I say "we" because Ed and I both have dealt with our share of spiritual and emotional scrapes and bruises...but really, I'm talking about my own transition here. Cross-cultural reentry is an intensely personal experience (which is what makes it so difficult to describe to anyone who has never experienced it), so each person's is different.

My lowest point so far was Earlyapril through mid-May. The bathtub incidents kind of set off the depression--but if it hadn't been the bathtub, it would've been something else. But I've had help. Help from a wonderful, loving God, who has sent wonderful, loving people into my life and placed me in loving, wonderful communion with them. I've had help through open, honest, in-depth conversation. I've had help through "The Artist's Way" (by Julia Cameron--THANK YOU, GAIL!!!), which is opening my eyes more and more to what it truly is that God created me to be. I've had help through a loving, wonderful, commiserating husband, who has actively grown with me even as he deals with his own transition issues.

I feel very blessed. I not only feel it, I *am* it, and I live it. I hesitate to say that I am learning to be content, since that is such a huge concept....but I think I am beginning to learn it. I am beginning to know why I am here, I am beginning to know what the next step could look like, and it's an unknown shape, but I'm excited about it instead of terrified. I feel as though I am unpacking my mind here, instead of merely unpacking cardboard boxes. I am beginning to travel light again, instead of schlepping around the misery of not knowing who I am. I am beginning to feel/see/hear reference points, reorient my inner compass, tune my inner self to the resonance of God's universe.

No matter what happens, I always know that eventually, I'll be at peace. Moving over here, finding myself in a low spot of sadness and depression, I knew that eventually I'd be at peace.

It's nice that at-peace is starting to happen again.

anybody like to help me out?

Okay, without going into a long spiel to try talking all and sundry into my plan, here's the deal:

I am in need of an extra $100.00 this month.

Would anyone like to brighten my corner by buying one of my oil paintings or commissioning one for that amount?

If you'd like to buy one, I have about 35 or 40 to choose from.

If you'd like to commission one, I'll need an advance. ;o)

Whoever's interested, let me know here, or email me!

brain gearing up for weirdness, apparently

So last night, in two separate dreams, I dreamed that...

1. there were worm-hatching larvae in my hair, and...

2. I was searching through my high school, Georg-Büchner-Schule (GBS), trying to find my Religion class because I was absent on the day they handed out schedules. While I was searching, I ran into my ex-boyfriend and his wife, neither of whom have, to my knowledge, ever set foot in Germany. And in the dream, he was happy to see me, which, considering the actual past, I very much doubt would be an accurate reflection of reality.

I go through phases of bizarre dreams. Many of these bizarre dreams involve GBS and being unable to find something or do something correctly. Since that was pretty much the theme of my real high school years, this theme in my dreams isn't really surprising. But the really bizarre ones--such as larvae in the hair, or tentacles growing out of the face, or vampires being driven back by circles on the ground and chants in pseudo-Latin--the really bizarre ones generally crop up only when I'm stressed, or there's a lot going on in my life that needs processing.

Therefore, it's rather peculiar that I should dream something so weird (not to mention gross) at this point in time, because I haven't been feeling stressed. Yeah, I've had a lot to process of late, but it hasn't been *bad*...and the larvae dream was gross enough to wake me up and make me go into the bathroom to check my scalp.

I don't know what the GBS/ex-boyfriend dream was all about. Maybe there's no real interpretation to these dreams, and they really are the result of a hyper imagination.

I could well believe that, actually. ;o)

eleanor roosevelt

I just watched part of a documentary on Eleanor Roosevelt. I wish I'd seen the whole thing instead of just the last 20 minutes. I had no idea she was such an influential woman--so influential that she was known as "First Lady of the world." Not because of who her husband was, but because of who she was: an activist for human rights and equal rights all over the world. I didn't know that she was the driving force behind the United Nations' Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948.

Apparently, she was also so vocal about equal rights in the USA, she received all sorts of death threats from the Ku Klux Klan. But she single-handedly stood up to the Klan--with nothing but an elderly friend and an pistol for backup--no police, no FBI, nothing--and, amid protests, went to a tiny little town and taught a workshop on how to break the laws against equal rights in existence at the time. She said that not standing up to them would be "cowardly."

She was definitely one classy lady. I wish there were someone of such high, ethical standards and moral values in US politics today. She would've made a terrific president.

human war and spiritual warfare: let's be honest about this

I read an article online today to which I prefer not providing a link. My reason for such recalcitrant (there's that word again!) secrecy is that I'm not sure I agree with many of the sentiments expressed in the article--or, rather, if I agree with the sentiments, I am quite sure I don't agree with the tone in which they are delivered. Either way, I don't think I want to have a link to the article on my blog, as I don't want anyone to associate me or my worldview with the attitude that comes through in the article.

However, I will let you know that the article was posted at lewrockwell.com, was written by one Lawrence Vance, and was dated June 12, 2008. Search for it if you so desire.

All of that said, I want to quote one particular statement from the article, a statement I find most true and telling:

"We hear more from the pulpit today justifying military intervention in the Middle East than we do about the need for missionaries to go there."

Does that hurt?

Does it hurt all of us who desire to follow Jesus?

Does it hurt any of us?

Does it prick our conscience at all?

It should. Because it's the truth.

fyi

...all comments answered, to my knowledge. FINALLY! ;o) You'll find the answers beneath the comments that inspired them.

TTFN,
C.

p.s. a novel update

WARNING: SPOILERS!!!!!

I mentioned this on my Facebook status yesterday (as though Facebook had so Terribly Important A Significance in the Grand Scheme of Things), but thought I should record it here as well:

Yesterday (having been Wednesday), I finished Chapter 31.

The following, however, has not yet graced a Facebook status line:

Today (having been, and still being, Thursday), I wrote the climax to my novel.

As in, the big bang that happens when all the threads and action finally come together and some people die and some people live and a bunch of bad guys get killed off and the heroine has a this-is-seriously-going-to-mess-up-or-totally-fix-my-life kind of moment. As in, pretty much everything that has happened previously has been Leading Up To This Moment, which makes it a fairly significant moment in the Grand Scheme of Novelizing Things.

Not to give away any of the good parts, but there was also the incident of someone's face getting melted off. Don't worry, it was one of the bad guys. I kind of enjoyed writing that part, especially because I didn't know it was going to happen before it happened.

Ooh, ooh, and there was a major time paradox, too! Kind of like the one Doc warns Marty about. Things exploded. A good time was had by all.

Well, not by some of the characters. The ones involved in the explosion.

I liked it.

Ooh, and when I wrote the part with the heroine and her sister, I made myself cry. That doesn't happen very often. It was emotionally very draining. But cathartic, in a weird sort of way, especially because I don't have a sister.

As you might be able to tell, all this has me as excited as a five-year-old on purple crack.

Writing swings my verge. It really does.

the one where i make another creative discovery

...said discovery being the realization that the laundry room of our apartment complex is an excellent place for working on my novel. Especially because I'm usually the only person there.

Procedure is as follows:

1. Take laundry to laundry room.
2. Stick laundry in washers.
3. Set up laptop.
4. Begin writing with no distractions, namely:

a. Internet
b. books
c. chores
d. Internet
e. paperwork
d. other that I can't think of right now
f. have I mentioned Internet?

5. Keep writing.
6. Take laundry out of washers.
7. Put laundry in dryers.
8. Write some more.
9. Keep writing.
10. Have a very productive writing day.

This completes Courtney's Ten-Step Laundry Program For Creative Writing.

elitism tastes good sometimes

"I don't have scientific data to back me up, but I've anecdotally witnessed a direct relationship between someone's willingness to read and their level of education, success, expectations for themselves, and general, uh, interestingness they bring to the table. I guess that makes me one of those 'elitists' we keep hearing about, but with that in mind, you may understand why it's been pretty...important to me that I instill a love of reading in my kids."

--Wil Wheaton
in his blog


If this were a Commonplace Book, and my profs were leaving me Post-It Note comments in it (which they did in my real Commonplace Book back in the Dark Ages of 1997), they would tell me that my posts are "heavy on Wil Wheaton" (in 1997, it was "heavy on Elton John). Guilty as charged (on all counts, past and hypothetical present).

That admitted, I really do enjoy Wil's thoughts. I won't say that I agree with him 100% on this particular quote: It doesn't apply to everyone; personally, I know plenty of highly interesting people who aren't big readers; but I do believe that the willingness to read affects education level and expectations for self.

In some ways, it can even determine education level and expectations for self.

Reading swings my verge!

hamster huey and the gooey kablooey

(Name that reference!)

I have a zit under the chicken pox scar on my chin.

I find this to be mildly ridiculous.

for my artist friends...

...and anyone else with whom this resonates.

An Artist's Prayer

O Great Creator,
We are gathered together in your name
that we may be of greater service to you
and to our fellows.
We offer ourselves to you as instruments.
We open ourselves to your creativity in our lives.
We surrender to you our old ideas.
We welcome your new and more expansive ideas.
We trust that you will lead us.
We trust that it is safe to follow you.
We know that you created us
and that creativity is your nature
and our own.
We ask you to unfold our lives
according to your plan, not our low self-worth.
Help us to believe that it is not too late
and that we are not too small or too flawed
to be healed--by you and through each other--
and made whole.
Help us to love one another,
to nurture each other's unfolding,
to encourage each other's growth,
and understand each other's fears.
Help us to know that we are not alone,
that we are loved and lovable.
Help us to create as an act of worship to you.

--Julia Cameron
in "The Artist's Way"

I cried when I read this.

in which i vent my spleen

So, ever since Ed and I got our Oklahoman cell phones (Handys, to my dear German readers), I have gotten heaps of unsolicited phone calls. Ed doesn't seem to get any at all, so I figure he's been blessed with a phone number that has never before been used in this dimension.

My number, however, seems to have had a previous owner who was either up to the nose in debt and on the lam (not lamb, hee hee ;o) from creditors and/or the Mafia, or simply enjoyed giving out the number to all and sundry so that all and sundry could use the number for the purposes of pointless harassment of The Innocent and Unsuspecting.

Namely, me.

I submitted my number to the National Do Not Call Registry (NDNCR), which is probably a misnomer. National We'd Like To Help You But We're Basically Powerless Would You Like a Teddy Bear? Registry would be more apt. The NDNCR is apparently maintained by the Federal Trade Commission, whose website even states that they cannot resolve individual customer complaints. Whoopee. The number of telemarketer calls has dropped since I registered, I'll give them that... But this does not resolve my problem of receiving about 6 calls a day, for five days in a row, approximately every two weeks, from the company HSBC Mortgage Services.

HSBC Mortgage Services is kinda clueless. Were they clueful, they would realize that I have never owned a house and, therefore, have never had a mortgage. Still, they persist on calling me x times per week (see previously noted statistics) VIA COMPUTER. That's right. Not only are they calling me, but they're using a poor, innocent computer to do their dirty work. The computer is voice activated, so it doesn't start talking until it hears a voice on the line.

Namely, mine.

I no longer answer the phone when I see that the display reads 800-395-3489. Sometimes, the computer stays on the line enough to be kicked over to voicemail, in which case I get a message that begins in the middle of a sentence, informs me ominously that "this is an attempt to collect a debt," and asks me to return the call to the aforementioned 800 number. (I never do, of course.)

HSBC called five times yesterday. Six times today. The day is young, yet.

Occasionally, I also receive calls from NCO Financial Systems at 800-477-1827.

As well as multiple calls from "Unknown," which I believe is HSBC cleverly disguising themselves so as to blend in with the wireless foliage of the modern telemarketing jungle.

Bunch of scaly, evil chameleons.

Personally, I think this should be illegal.

Stupid-kenupid telemarketercreditormortagerulemakers.

Blech.

"what is your glitch?" --"my glitch?"

Sometimes, I think my main problem is simply that I want to understand everything yesterday.

in honor of and reference to memory

Why is it so difficult to say what we really mean?

Why, when we try to communicate something important to us, do we so often send a message we didn't want to send, and end up hurting the other person without wanting to?

What must we do in order to learn to ask the right questions?

What must we do in order to learn how to listen for the answers?

Honestly: Is it so difficult to stop talking, open the heart, and let the soul truly comprehend what the other person is saying?

Why is what we want to say usually so much more important to us than that which the other person needs to say?

Why do we block others from unburdening their souls?

Why do we espouse total honesty, yet we cannot accept it when others are totally honest with us?

Are our relationships truly that fragile?

Are our relationships truly that shallow?

How can we have been so misled?

Why didn't anyone tell us?

Why can't we admit that the fault is our own for not having sought and delved more deeply?

Why do we lack courage?

Where is the safe haven?

Why do we paint love a color only we can see?

in which i ponder art and purpose

I am thinking about the act of writing.
I am thinking about music.
I am thinking about visual art, art on paper, art on canvas.
I am thinking about the multitude of ways in which we humans express ourselves in what is commonly known as a 'creative' way.

Genesis 1:1 reads, "In the beginning, God created..."
Genesis 2:26 reads, "God said, 'Let us make man in our image...'"

I have always thought that "in our image" refers to the fact that God created each of us with a soul.
I still believe that.

But I also believe this:

The first thing we learn about God from scripture is that he is a creative being. Since he made us 'in his image,' I believe this means that he made us to be creative beings.

Being a writer and an artist is, for me, paying homage to this fact. As a child imitates a father, so through my art, my creativity, I am imitating my Father by bringing forth something that, by human perception, wasn't there before. It is all by his design and through his workings in my spirit and in my life.

Every human, by Divine definition, carries a creative impulse within the soul. Every human. Without exception. Discovering that impulse is simply a matter of discovering how best to express it so as to bring glory to God.

cultural transitions bite...

...and I despise bathtub drains that leak into the neighbor's apartment *AGAIN*, thereby depriving me of a well-earned bubble bath.

Blech.

i've been blogging this in my head since 7am

Dear Traffic Hazards,

While watching you today, aiming snarky comments at you in my head--or aloud, when I was alone in the car--I decided that the time has come, as the walrus said, to let the you-relevant snarkiness leak from my mind, ooze down through my nervous system, trickle out of my fingertips, gush into my keyboard, and spawn its way onto my blog, where you may gnash your gnashing teeth over it in impotence. That said, here are the points I've wished all day that you might see fit to ponder:

1. The manufacturer of your car, law-abiding and foresightful individual that s/he is, wisely equipped your car with headlights. Yeah, if you could turn those on when it's dark outside....ummmmm.....that'd be grrreaaaat.

2. The aforementioned mountain-top-guru-esque manufacturer also built into your car a couple of nifty gadgets called turn signals.
     a. Some of you are using turn signals as a method for asking permission to change lanes, instead of using them to announce your intention to change lanes. Asking permission is not only a misuse of the turn signal (a misuse which should, I might add, be a federal offense, like tearing the tag off of a pillow--yeah, they know who you are, you delinquent pillow-tag-tear-offers!), it is also dumb.
     b. Some of you aren't using the turn signals at all. This is not only dumb, it is also stupid, because you are begging me to run into you because I don't know where you're going.

3. Entrance ramps are not parking lots. Please to be noticing the difference. Thank you.

4. Random Breaking Syndrome* is a disease. Seek help before it's too late**.

5. When I am abiding by the speed limit of 25mph and you, in your culturally-induced haste to get from Point A to Point Z so fast it threatens to tear the skin off your face, run up behind me and begin trying to push me to break the speed limit, the law of cause and effect comes into play.
     a. The effect might be that I simply ignore you, because I am in a good mood and not susceptible to your wily speed demon ways; stay thee behind me! Pwned!
     b. The effect might be that I actually slow down because I am annoyed (and you are not a droid, which is unfortunate, because it would make you more interesting). You are SO not swinging my verge, here.
          --> The cause of these effects is you, so do not gnash your teeth at me, or the effect will be that I purchase and apply to my car a bumper sticker that reads "I might be slow, but I'm ahead of you."

Cause-and-effect-really swings my verge.

6. I'm sure there's another point of severe snarkiness, but ruminating about you has kept me up long enough past my bedtime, so I think I'm going to go to sleep now.

Yours Truly,
The Chick in the Ancient Red Nissan

*Random Breaking Syndrome (RBS): the illness which causes vehicle drivers to slam on their brakes without warning and for no discernible reason, seeing as how there are no cars in front of them, much less cars that are braking. The braking of a car in front of you, by the way, is indicated by the glow of two brake lights at the back of the aforementioned car. Or one brake light, if you are in Oklahoma. Or no brake light at all, in which case we move on to the condition of the breaking of the car in front of you, which occurs when you run into said car because it is rapidly decelerating and not bothering to inform you of the fact.

**In this case, "late" would be a condition occurring, for example, when you begin using the entrance ramp for a parking lot.

froogality

FYI, I updated my Froogle Wish List, should you discover, deep within your soul, the burning desire to brighten my corner by spending money on li'l ol' me.

*grin*

i wish this story were fictional

At the bottom of this post are the tags "being the church" and "brighten the corner where you are."

This post is about what being the church and brightening your corner isn't.

After the funeral, he spots someone he hasn't seen in years. He greets her, she greets him. He asks several interested questions about her life. So far so good. As she launches into her exposition, two children approach.

They are two children of the deceased. Rightfully so, he interrupts the woman in order to address them. The woman turns with him, and together they express their condolences.

But he doesn't leave it at that. Can't leave it at that. Stepping close to one of the children--a youth in black with pierced ears and a girl on one arm--he puts his hand on the boy's shoulder and tells the grieving one, "Just remember that if you do what the Bible says, this isn't the end. And you'll see him again, if you do what's right."

(The youth nods, and politeness tugs at the corners of his mouth. But in his eyes is the confused rage of a heart that is wholly misunderstood, grieving, yearning for intimacy...but learning once again that to be vulnerable is to find not healing, but rejection. Judgment based on appearances. And so he turns away from the well-wisher's concept of soul-care, thinking that among these self-proclaimed followers of God, there is no safe haven for the likes of him.)

Having executed his Christian duty, the well-wisher then makes for the parking lot and drives away. After embracing the children a final time, the woman turns to look for him. But he is gone. She guesses that the conversation must be over.

in which i don't know whether or not locusts and cicadas are the same thing

I intended to write about this weeks ago but forgot.

A few weeks ago, on a warm spring evening (as opposed to the hot spring evening we are currently experiencing--25 degrees Celsius at 22:00!), Ed and I were sitting in the office with the windows open, doing the kind of nothing that people do in their offices at home on warm spring evenings.

(An aside: I just now sneezed and hit my head on the edge of my laptop. Ow.)

As we sat there, doing nothing, I gradually became aware of a noise. I'd been hearing it for quite some time but hadn't consciously taken note of it. When I finally did begin paying attention to it, I knew immediately what it was: a locust!

Some people find them creepy. Some find them annoying. I find locusts completely fascinating, both in appearance and in lifestyle. ("Lifestyles of the Green and Bug-Eyed!")
As I told Ed on that do-nothing evening of a few weeks ago, the sound of locusts takes me back to childhood summers in Oklahoma, lying awake at night, sweltering in the heat, listening to the locusts as they sang me to sleep.

I've been a lot of places and heard a lot of things, but so far, for me, the sound of locust song is unique to Oklahoma. There's just no other sound like it. And because I associate it with the wonderful, boisterous, adventurous summers of my childhood, it's a sound that is very dear to me. I love walking out into a warm, humid summer evening in Oklahoma and hearing the locusts as they "sing" so loudly, they're almost deafening. Every time I hear them, there's a split second when I'm a kid again.

"Reeeeeeeeeeeeee!" said Ed, imitating the locust. "How would you like it," he asked me, "if your whole purpose in life were to crawl out of the ground in the spring, stretch, look around, and then start making that noise?!"

I laughed.

Oh, and speaking of humid, tonight is definitely the night for that! Earlier, I walked outside, and I could smell the heat and moisture rolling through the air. Like the locust song, this smell is unique to this place. No other place I've been smells quite like this. Germany has its share of humid summers, but they smell different: woodsier somehow, scented with tree mold and green, deep and dark and growing.

Oklahoma humidity smells like earth and rain and wind. It's a wild smell, scented with power barely restrained, occasionally threatening with a hint of ozone. This, too, takes me back to childhood, when storms meant running out into the rain for the sheer joy of getting drenched and seeing the lighting; when climbing water towers didn't seem foolish; when simply everything was possible.

great quote

"I was certain that God had a greater purpose for me, and I prayed every day for Him to reveal it to me. At first I was expecting Him to show me my entire future all at once--maybe with a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder thrown in for good measure. But I came to learn that God never shows us something we aren't ready to understand. Instead, he lets us see what we need to see, when we need to see it. He'll wait until our eyes and hearts are open to Him, and then when we're ready, He will plant our feet on the path that's best for us...but it's up to us to do the walking."

--Immaculée Ilibagiza
"Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust"

book comments 5 (in which i briefly wax political)

Most of my latest reading adventures. I think I'm forgetting a few, but I'm sure those few of you who actually read my book reviews will forgive me. ;o)

"Velocity" by Dean Koontz
--fast-paced, entertaining, good read, kept me on the edge of my seat
--Billy Wiles is the tormented main character, and I just wanted to cuddle him.
--SPOILER: The love of Billy's life is in a coma, and she doesn't wake up before the end of the book, if I recall correctly. This is a little too close to the situation of one of Koontz's other leading men, Odd Thomas, the love of whose life is dead. I'm starting to get a little tired of Koontz Leading Men who don't get to move on emotionally because their girls are either incapacitated or deceased. I'm a girl. I like a little requited romance here and there.
--That said, I still recommend the book. ;o)


"The Crucible" by Arthur Miller
--I will betray my ignorance of classic American literature by admitting that before I picked it up, I thought this was a novel, not a play.
--So it was a faster read than I'd been anticipating. ;o)
--thoroughly enjoyed it, thought it was a great comment on society, both past and present
--saw the movie a few years ago, so had trouble not seeing Daniel Day-Lewis and Winona Ryder in my head while reading
--no complaints about Day-Lewis visual; "Last of the Mohicans" is still a favorite
--but I digress
--"Crucible": highly recommend, especially in light of society's continuing penchant for inciting hysteria among the masses; nowadays, this takes place a great deal over email forwards :oP


"Cat O'Nine Tales" by Jeffrey Archer
--picked it up because the author is a British politician telling stories he heard while he was in prison (true!)
--collection of extremely clever short stories with often hilarious criminal punch lines
--fascinating, fun, excellent read
--Archer writes in a style I call "veddy British," and I love it.
--highly recommend


"Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust" by Immaculée Ilibagiza
--Um. Wow. Scary. Heartbreaking. Infuriating. Horrifying.
--I thought after watching "Hotel Rwanda," I had found out as much as I wanted to about the 1994 genocide against the Tutsis in Rwanda. Well, I was wrong, and I'm ashamed of my prior lack of interest. I think everyone needs to read this book. Especially everyone who has a strong opinion about the war in Iraq.

You think political errors have been made in regard to Iraq?

The political errors regarding Rwanda--specifically, the barely-there and very late-in-coming involvement of the world's democratic governments--stand out much more starkly. And are a whole lot more embarrassing. Those people needed the Western world's help *a lot sooner* than any of us gave it. I am embarrassed that we didn't give it.

But Rwanda doesn't have oil.

'Nuff said.


"By the Sword" by Mercedes Lackey
--classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy
--reminded me pleasantly of Andre Norton
--for the most part, fast-paced and action-packed
--got me interested in checking out Lackey's other novels set in this particular universe ("Heralds of Valdemar")
--I had some trouble relating to the heroine, simply because I'm much more of a girl than she is. ;o)
--I did get bored with and skimmed over a lot of the battle tactic and war strategy stuff, especially toward the end of the book. Those parts made me think, "Get on with the story!" The large gaps of time (one spanning ten years!) between chapters and parts were a little distracting
--recommend to anyone who likes "old school" fantasy ;o)


Coming Soon to a Courtney's Blog near you:

(drumroll, please)

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"The Golden Compass" trilogy, more correctly known as "His Dark Materials"!!!

Lighting will strike! Run for your life!!!!!!

;oD

the worst food in america

Check out this article about how bad restaurant (not fast food!) is for us. It's scary. And scary. And did I mention that it's scary?

According to the writers' research, this is the Worst-For-You Food in America:

Outback Steakhouse Aussie Cheese Fries with Ranch Dressing
2,900 calories
182 g fat
240 g carbs

"It's the caloric equivalent of eating 14 Krispy Kreme doughnuts, before your dinner arrives. Even if you split this "starter" with 3 friends, you'll have downed a meal's worth of calories."

This isn't food for thought. This is food for your fat cells. This is food to add on to your fat cells.

Blech.

more nickelback randomness

So it happened again. I heard a song I liked, Googled it, and found out it was Nickelback again. This is seriously starting to weird me out.

Anyway, this time, it was "Rockstar." The picture the lyrics paint of the celebrity life is painfully vivid and accurate. In spite of the two vulgarities, I still appreciate the song for its truth.

And the sarcasm just really swings my verge.

my transition meltdown. let me show you it.

I ought to be getting in bed right now. I've actually not been doing half bad about keeping to a regular sleep schedule lately. I'd hate to mess it up just because of a little case of RRRCS. Reverse Reverse Reverse Culture Shock. But as I was about to shut down the taplop, I realized I simply didn't want to go to sleep without blogging about this first.

Don't let the sun go down on your culture shock. Isn't that how the scripture goes?

Anyway...

I've been feeling edgy the last few days. Partially because of hormones--I'll spare you those details. But even if it is hormone-related, that doesn't make the emotions any less valid.

So. Edginess. Still, okay. Then came a couple of phone calls yesterday. Well-meant, and ordinarily not something I'd react to adversely. But I came away from them feeling inadequate, untrustworthy, weak, and foolish (notably, not by the callers' doing). I don't need to say that this did nothing to take the edge off the edge. So I won't say it.

Today, I got an email from our dear friend Elsa, reporting on the latest ETM class that took place last week. And there was a photo, too. Not only that, but there was a meeting over the past weekend for *all* the ETM participants *ever*.

I took one look at that photo, read the first line of Elsa's email, and promptly started bawling.

I should have been there, was what I was thinking. I wanted to be there. Desperately. But I couldn't be there. And I suddenly felt like I was wholly and irrevocably in the wrong place.

Shortly thereafter, I called my parents to talk about something totally unrelated, ended up misunderstanding something Daddy said and getting upset all over again, and then bawling to both him and Mama. Later, Jennifer came for coffee, and I bawled to her. Then Isaac arrived, and I bawled to him, too.

By the time Ed got home, I was all cried out. Besides, just seeing him made me feel better. Later, Jennifer and I went for a walk and a talk, and that helped a lot, too.

I don't *really* think I'm in the wrong place. I'm not *truly* dissatisfied with where I am in life and why and whatnot. That might be how I feel right now, but I know it's not so. The feelings are valid, but they aren't a reflection of reality. They're simply part of the transition process.

So eventually, I'll be okay. Today was just a rough day. I've known for awhile it was coming. But, like the day I cried in Buy-for-Less, I didn't expect it on a particular day. It's impossible to predict what will trigger it.

Tomorrow evening, I'm supposed to substitute teach a Ladies' Class. On personal evangelism. You know, that thing I did fulltime in Chemnitz. That thing I believe is part of the definition of "Christian." I hope I can get through the class. With God's help, I know I can. But only if I let him take care of the transition-emotions. And I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of them and let him, yet.

Blech.

I don't like this.

I think I might do some painting this week.

That's all. I feel better now. :o)

i finished chapter 25 today!

...and it's ten pages longer than I expected it to be. Not sure what happened there.

But still, there is much rejoicing!

ima hogg

Today's featured article on Wikipedia is about a woman named Ima Hogg. I find this highly amusing, because I've heard anecdotes about her for, like, ever, but I never believed she really existed.

So now, having perused the article, I sit amusedly corrected.

Enjoy!

another very TCK rant, if you can stand it

...and if you can't, stop reading. ;o)

Okay, so a few days ago, I wrote about how I get really irritated when people give me 20 seconds of their attention, then turn me off right as I'm in the middle of answering THEIR question.

This isn't going to be a rant about that again.

But this *is* going to be a rant about something else to which I react with anger.

I'll be brief.


To Whom It May Concern--And You Know Who You Are:

Do not tell me I'm not a "good American" because I get upset when you bash Europe. To my face.

Do not tell me that I sound more German than American in my opinions. If I *am* more German, then it is none of your business.

And do not tell me that I need to decide which country I want to be a citizen of in my heart.
Do not have the audacity, the utter gall to say such a thing to me.

______

I'm done.
______

This isn't a cross-cultural re-entry issue for me. This relates to the ever-difficult, ever-present, life-long struggle of feeling torn between cultures. Even after I complete the current cultural transition phase, this isn't going to go away. I accept that, so please don't anyone worry that I'm having a meltdown. I'm not. I just read something this evening that reminded me of the incident described above, and I realized I'd feel better about it if I aired the dirty laundry in public.

you may quote me on this

Occasional incoherence builds character!

While you're at it, don't get stuck in the metaphysical toe cheese.

That really swings my verge.


(And on a side note, here's what the online translator does with those sentences...

...in German:
Die zufällige Zusammenhangslosigkeit baut den Charakter! Während Sie - darin, sie sich in metaphysischem Käse der Zehe nicht verstopfen. Das schwingt meinen Rand wirklich.

...in English:
The accidental unconnectedness builds the character! While you do not block yourselves in metaphysical cheese of the toe - in it, they. This swings my edge really.

*Love* it.)

something to chew on

I found this quote that I'd scribbled down somewhere. I have no idea who said it, but it's an excellent thought.

The worst thing that could happen to you is that you go to your grave a respectable fraud who spent your entire life worrying that someone would find out, but you ignored the only one who saw it all.

i finished chapter 23 today!

...which really swings my verge. ;o)

a few more interesting scriptures from the FHV

...FHV = Freed-Hardeman Version, which I mentioned sometime last week, or maybe week-before-last, but I'm in a hurry right now, so I'm not gonna look it up. Anyway, here are the verses of current interest:

Matthew 5:31-32
It was said, "Whoever divorces his wife is to give her a bill of divorce." But, I assure you, any man who divorces his wife except for fornication leaves her debased, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.
(Emphasis added because that makes so much more sense than any other translation I've ever read or divorce-related doctrine I've ever heard!)

John 21:15-17
After breakfast, Jesus asked Simon Peter, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love me more than these?"
He replied, "Yes, Lord, you know I like you."
Jesus said, "Feed my lambs." A second time, Jesus asked, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you love me?"
Peter answered, "Yes, Lord, you know that I like you."
Jesus said, "Shepherd my sheep." The third time, Jesus asked, "Simon, son of Jonah, do you like me?"
Peter was grieved because Jesus had asked for the third time, "Do you like me?", and he replied, "Lord, you know all things: you know I like you."
Jesus answered, "Feed my sheep."
(emphasis added)

some culture shock thoughts

Before I begin, here's another caveat emptor (I've been using that phrase so often lately, I really should make it a tag): I am not bitter; I am not trying to criticize; I am not complaining; I am meaning no offense. I am venting, and I am feeling frustrated, and I am making observations. So there are your grains of salt with which to take the following:

One. If you ever really want to annoy me: ask me a question, give me twenty seconds of your attention, and then, as I am answering YOUR question, either walk away from me or turn away and start talking to someone else.

This has happened numerous times since we arrived here in November. And the culprits are not inattentive children or flighty teenagers. The culprits are allegedly friendly, allegedly sensitive, and allegedly well-adjusted adults who ought to know better.

Forgive me my intolerance and closed-mindedness, but that is rude no matter what culture you're in. Please spare me your alleged interest in who I really am.

I know this sounds bitter, but I'm really not bitter. Frustrated. Annoyed.

Two. A lot of people here profess to be very proud to be American, proud to be part of this country. And yet I observe the same people, littering and wasting natural resources (leaving water running, leaving lights on, leaving cars running while the drivers duck into the store for 15 minutes...). Germans are, for the most part, lukewarm when it comes to patriotism. And yet they will drive you nuts with everything they insist on doing to protect the environment, to take care of their land (like separating trash into four different types for disposal and recycling; I am so brainwashed, I *still* feel guilty about putting everything into one trash can!).

So of the two cultures, which is really more patriotic?

Annoyed. Not bitter. Frustrated. And ***confused***.

an 'i am' poem

message to a friend who was


i am penitent and hopeful

i wonder if i will ever be able to ask your forgiveness
i hear a voice whispering discouragement into my heart
i see myself speaking to you of my sin
i want to assure you that i desire nothing of you
i am penitent and hopeful.

i pretend no more
i feel myself growing beyond the confines of who i was
i touch the places in my past that hurt
i worry that you resent me
i weep not, though: for
i am penitent and hopeful.

i understand that i cannot fix this
i say these things to you because i must
i dreamt i was not prideful, but i have awakened to what’s real

i remember our laughter

i hope i will one day have the honor of asking your forgiveness

meanwhile
i am penitent

and hopeful.


The above text © 2007 by Courtney Weger Cantrell.

dream #145

Drowning People of All Nations, Unite!

Last night, I dreamed that I was in Communist East Germany, and the Stasi were chasing me. I tried to hide in a skyscraper that was an apartment building. But as luck would have it, the Stasi had chosen that particular building in which to kill all of the occupants by drowning. I was caught up in the chaos of fleeing people and Stasi officers’ giving orders.

Somehow, I ended up pushing myself through a crowd on the stairs and getting into the basement. I thought I could find some loose boards among the panels that covered all the windows. But somehow the Stasi had managed to make the whole building watertight. They began pumping water in, and the basement started to fill up. Together with a few others who had kept their heads, I found a section of boarding that was loose. By holding our breaths and diving down to the floor of the basement, we managed to pry the boards away, let some of the water out, and help a few people escape before swimming to safety ourselves.

When I emerged from the basement, I found the streets full of people and Communist troops. A full-scale revolt had erupted, and the citizens were taking up arms and fighting back. I joined a crowd that was standing on some crumbling concrete steps, listening to a man give a revolutionary speech. A lot of the people had weapons that looked like shotguns. Then the dream ended.

keeping the joy alive

And, speaking of geekdom, here's a little something I just have to re-post every few years. I share it because this guy, whose name I believe is Gary, just makes me really happy. Every time I see this, I smile...

...and I sing and dance along. Huzzah!

"Gary" sings "Dragostea Din Tei".

i couldn't agree more, and i am a geek

As regularly as I read any blog (which has not, of late, been regularly at all), I peruse the blog of Wil Wheaton. On March 6, 2008, he posted the following:"

"Some books contain the machinery required to create and sustain universes."
-Tycho, at Penny Arcade

Yeah, let that roll around in your head for a little bit. It's really as simple and beautiful as that, isn't it?

I see a bookshelf, filled with different books from different authors, all acting as portals to different worlds and different times. The author may give them birth, but it's the readers who keep them alive.

--yellow text penned by Wil Wheaton
_________________________________________

That's exactly how I feel about books and about reading them. I've mentioned the worlds and universes aspect before. Here.

As for why I'm a geek....well, Wil Wheaton's a geek, and I love his blog. I don't always like his word choices, but I ignore them because I like how he writes and the fact that he revels in his geekdom. Besides, he played Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: TNG, and I loved him heart and soul when I was 13.

I revel in my own geekdom (see here and here,) but I suspect my secret recalcitrant side often prevents me from engaging in revelry in public. I admire Wil for his blatant and unhesitant revelry. I find, though, that I become more and more open about my geekiness as I get older, so perhaps I am learning something.

And, in the spirit of such...

Happy Belated π Day!
and
Happy Belated Ides of March!

they might be germans

Today, I've had "Particle Man" stuck in my head for some reason, and as I was unloading the dishwasher, I randomly started singing it to myself in German. So here's a snippet of translation for your enjoyment:

Partikelmann, Partikelmann,
er tut was ein Partikel kann.
Ob er lebt ist unwichtig,
Partikelmann.

Isser 'n Punkt?
Oder isser 'n Fleck?
Wird er unter dem Wasser nass?
Oder durchnässt er das Wasser selbst?
Keiner weiss,
Partikelmann.

Ta-dah.

P.S. For my German friends: "Particle Man" is a song by a group called They Might Be Giants. And all this has led to singing the politically rather incorrect "Drie Chieniesien miet diem Kientriebiess" in my head. I don't know why.

most recent novel-related facebook status updates

March 10, 2008
Courtney is now far enough along in the story to know there will probably be 35 chapters.

March 11, 2008
Courtney finished Chapter 27 today!

March 13, 2008
Courtney has figured out that she MIGHT have the first draft finished IN 10 WEEKS!


And today, I am working on Chapter 23. Note: I am not writing chapters in numerical order. Chapters 1-22 and 27 are completed, but I also have bits and pieces written for 24, 26, 28, 30, 31, and 35. Filling in the blanks is fun! ;o)

Ten weeks till first draft completion is probably an overly optimistic assessment. More realistic would probably be 12 or 13. But we shall see. I have still done more work on the story in the last few months than I have done during the previous two years! YAY!

thoughts on a bible translation

So once again, I'm trying to make daily Bible study part of my lifestyle. Over the last 2 years, I had made daily study a priority. Yeah, I had "backslides" or "relapses" or whatchacallits, times when I forgot or put it off or just didn't do it because I was feeling recalcitrant. (There's that word again!) But still, I was generally moving in the right direction, knew myself a spiritually stronger person, and knew myself as becoming ever more vulnerable to and intimate with God.

Since Ed and I moved back to Oklahoma, my daily Bible study has been nil.

There have been lots of reasons for this, but I don't want to get into all of that now. It's cultural-transition-related, so perhaps I'll write about that some other time. The point of this blopgost is to say that I am once more reading daily ( --> spending time with God daily), and I would like to share some thoughts about the Bible translation I have been using.

I'm not sure what the official name of this translation is. The cover reads as follows:

The Everlasting Gospel
New Testament with Psalms, Proverbs, and more
Hugo McCord, Th.D.
FHU Press

What I have is the 4th edition. Its foreword refers to the translation as the Freed-Hardeman Version (FHV). For simplicity's sake, that's how I will refer to it, as well.

I'm no Greek scholar, but I'm working on it. ;o) I've been studying N.T. Greek (Koine) for over a year and am pleased to be able to say that I now have a rudimentary understanding of the language which can certainly get me into a lot of trouble. ;o) That said (and I hope, by the tongue-in-cheek, you realize that I am considering myself anything but learnéd), in what little FHV reading I've done, I've identified a few problems in the New Testament translation. (I can say nothing of the Old Testament translation, as I've not yet dared to tackle Hebrew.)

So far, these seem to be little things. Most recently, I noticed that the FHV calls the Jewish 7th hour "7 o'clock" (John 4:52), which is incorrect. The Jewish 7th hour was equivalent to our 1:00pm. A minor detail...but it begs the question what other things have been overlooked. There's more to be said on this subject, I'm sure, but let me digress into what I actually wanted to write about when I set about writing this blopgost...

...which is this: The FHV translates several passages in such a manner as to clear up some major theological issues of our day. I won't name the issues, and I won't point out the particulars of why I'm quoting the verses I quote below. Suffice it to say that the translation of certain words and phrases in the N.T. scriptures concurs with what I've been taught, so far, by three different Greek scholars. Not that this makes me an authority or in any way reliable--I am simply giving my opinion. Given another 40 years of Greek study, I might change that opinion. But for now, the scriptures:

John 3:16
God so loved the world that he gave his unique Son, so that no one who believes in him will perish, but he will have eternal life.

Acts 2:38
...Change your hearts and be immersed, each one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ into the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Titus 3:5
...he saved us, not by works of righteousness which we had done, but according to his mercy, through the bath of the new birth and the renewal of the Holy Spirit...

Matthew 3:8
Bring forth fruit as evidence of a change of heart.

Matthew 5:48
You therefore shall be mature, as your heavenly Father is mature.

1. Corinthians 10:13
...God is trustworthy, and he will not allow you to be tried beyond your ability. With the trial he will provide an escape, so that you can bear up under it.

Acts 2:4
All [the apostles] were filled with the Holy Spirit, and began speaking in other languages as the Spirit empowered them.

Acts 10:46
They were hearing the Gentiles speak in languages and praising God.

1. Corinthians 14:5
...He who prophecies is greater than he who speaks in languages, unless he interprets, that the assembly might be edified.


And so forth.

A note on the foreword: McCord definitely had a sense of humor. (I say "had" because I heard that he's dead.) He writes, "...the KJV uses words such as 'grisled,' 'holpen,' 'sith,' 'unicorns,' 'strawed,' 'bewrayeth,' 'wist,' 'wit,' 'wot,' and 'trow'...while advising readers to use 'sound speech that cannot be condemned' (Titus 2:8)." ;o)

And a general note on various translations: I'm a strong advocate of perusing multiple translations at once. When I'm studying or preparing a lesson, I usually use at least 5 or 6. It keeps my mind open and helps me to see nuances. So no one should take this post as my recommendation of the FHV above all other translations. It is one of many I use; but it just happens to be one I'm currently very interested in, and one that translates a few things in a way I haven't seen in other translations.

courtney's cure for writer's block

Shannon voiced a writer's block difficulty, so I thought I'd share here what I wrote to him on Facebook:

Courtney's Cure for Writer's Block, Gleaned From Various Writing Sources

1. Grab Inner Editor by scruff of neck.

2. Drag him down to the darkest depths of the deepest mental dungeon.

3. Lock him behind the most solid steel door available.

4. Break the key off in the lock.

5. Skip light-heartedly back up the mental stairs.

6. Write, write, write...

7. ...and write anything, even if it's just stream-of-consciousness stuff that has nothing to do with your current project, without thinking about it, without changing anything, without correcting anything, without stopping, for at least 20 minutes.

8. Take a break and go do something completely unrelated to writing.

9. Wash, rinse, repeat.


That all sounds very tongue-in-cheek, but it really does work. The principle is just to give yourself the freedom to write anything and everything, without stopping to think if it's "good enough" or not. It's all about getting past the intimidating, blank white space--paper or word processor screen--you're trying to fill! :o)

*much eye-rolling*

On the radio the other day, I heard a "Jenny Craig" commercial. One particular line of their spiel caught my attention:

"You can lose weight for $49.95 a month!"

Well, hidey-ho and guess what, neighborinos....*I* can lose weight FOR FREE! HA!

What an utterly ridiculous commercial.

a conversation from today

Courtney: Does your stomach still hurt?

Ed: It comes and goes.

Courtney: Your stomach?

Ed: Yeah.

Courtney: I bet that feels kinda funny.

linguistic amusement

Someone might notice that I updated my links list today. (See far right column.) Among those links is now a link (how word-well-wielding is that?) to Thesaurus.com, which I reference multiple times an hour as I write.

I know that while penning my first draft, I should ignore my Inner Editor and worry about finding synonyms later, but I can't help myself. I think I'm addicted. And the Inner Editor is more than happy to supply me with synonymical drugs.

Anyway....I was just indulging my habit a few minutes ago by looking up another word for "relentless." Thesaurus.com gave me "ruthless." Which led me to the following musings:

Why isn't relentful the opposite of relentless?

Relentless is related to the verb relent.
If relentless and ruthless are basically interchangeable, why can one not make a verb out of ruthless?

As in:

1. I no longer felt relentless, so I relented.
2. I am begging you to relent!

1A. I no longer felt ruthless, so I ruthed.
2A. I am begging you to ruth!

I'm so glad to have gotten this off my chest. I'm going to go back to my story now.

another good quote

“Truth often carries with it the inherent necessity for change. The most common expression when real change enforces itself is the plaintive cry: ‘Why didn’t anyone warn us?’ Truly, they do not hear-—or hearing, do not choose to remember.”

~Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson,
“Dune: House Corrino”

a thought

"Every majestic oak tree was once a nut who stood his ground."

--Author Unknown


I'm a nut. What are you?
;o)

this time, a serious quiz...i think

Somebody sent me this link, so I thought I'd share it here: The Hermeneutics Quiz.

This quiz is designed to help you identify what patterns of thought etc. you use when interpreting Bible scripture. The designers of the quiz mean it seriously--and fortunately, they add a caveat emptor (I seem to be using that phrase a lot, lately.) by acknowledging that one little quiz isn't going to identify all the nuances of an individual's method of interpretation.

That aside, it *is* an interesting quiz, and it will lead you into a little bit of self-examination if you allow it.

I "scored" a 52, which, according to the quiz, places me in the "conservative hermeneutic" group. According to the quiz, the opposite end of the scale is "progressive."

I recently told someone recently, I no longer know what the labels "conservative" and "liberal" mean. The main cause of my confusion is the reactions of other people to my expressions of certain beliefs: The Conservatives label me "liberal," and the Liberals label me "conservative." As a result, for me, those two appellations no longer have definition and have become wholly meaningless bywords.

So when this quiz labels me "conservative," it perplexes me. Like I said, it's definitely thought-provoking...but it's also annoying--which, I suppose, means that it does have meaning to me, after all...and not a good one. The fact that the opposite end of the scale is "progressive" gives me the impression that "conservative" means "lack of progress."

I take umbrage at that. True, I have my hard times of spiritual stagnation (which, I believe, we all of us have)...but I certainly do categorize the general state of my spiritual life as one of "moving forward" or "making progress."

I've thought for a long time that I'd like to write out a sort of "belief statement" for myself. As in, a collection of beliefs that I hold. I feel the need to do this for me, if for no other reason than to gain a little clarity (not the "Minority Report" versionof clarity, don't worry). This would be for my own benefit, so I might or might not post it here. Dunno. Hafta think about that one.

Anyway...like I said: The Hermenutics Quiz = a bit annoying, but also thought-provoking. And since the two (annoying and thought-provoking) so often go hand-in-hand (those two *really* need to quit with the PDA), I'd say taking the quiz is worth one's time. It swings my verge, anyway. ;o)

movie review: "The Golden Compass"

So. It seems to me that the societal furor over this movie has died down somewhat. Or perhaps I’m just insulated and isolated from it and blind to current controversy. (Feel free to correct me on that. ;o) Anyway…as the walrus said, “the time has come,” and I will try to arrange my thoughts about “The Golden Compass” in some semblance of order.

As I told one of my aunts recently, I almost wish I had heard nothing about this film before watching it. It would have been nice for someone to have said, “Courtney, here’s a newly-released movie. Please watch it and tell me what you think,” and left it at that. Unfortunately, life is rarely so simple, and I spent the entire movie trying to push other people’s opinions out of my head while attempting to formulate my own.

I think I achieved a degree of success in this endeavor. So now I’m going to state my opinion so other people will have the same difficulty in forming theirs that I had in forming my own. Ha! Take that! *grin*

Wikipedia provides a great synopsis of the plot, so I’m not going to regurgitate it here. In brief, what I saw was a fast-paced, action-packed, well-made, creative, inventive, interesting, original, special-effects-laced fantasy film.

For adults.

Not for kids.

If you know me, or if you peruse my blog with anything like regularity, you know that the sci-fi and high fantasy genres are my thing. I read them, I watch them, I write them. “Compass” fits very nicely into both, so from that vantage point, I enjoyed the movie immensely. (If you enjoy those genres and watch/have watched the movie, you’ll know where I’m coming from. If you don’t care for those genres, I won’t bore you with the details.)

So, if I’m a proponent of sci-fi and fantasy, why wouldn’t I show this film to kids?

Well, I think my main glitch (thank you, “Reality Bites”) is with the main character, Lyra Belacqua. I don’t know how Lyra is written in the books, but in the movie, she frankly comes across as an obnoxious brat. She lies to anyone she must in order to get her way (including to her closest friends); she shows little respect for anyone around her; and she spends most of the film with a spiteful frown on her face. Everything she does is for her own self-interest. As a heroine, her only redeeming features are her protectiveness of her dæmon, Pantalaimon (“Pan”), and her determination to rescue her friends from the Gobblers.

Some might claim that the protectiveness and the determination are more than redeeming of her negative characteristics. However, keep in mind that taking care of Pan is also in Lyra’s best interest, as she suffers any pain that is inflicted on him and becomes captive herself if he is imprisoned.

A side note on the film’s concept of dæmons, which includes what is, in my opinion, a major plot hole: Early on, the film shows that human souls appear in the form of dæmons, animals which can talk and accompany their humans everywhere they go. What pain the dæmon feels, the human feels, and vice versa. However, when one of the antagonists, Mrs. Coulter, becomes frustrated with her dæmon, she slaps him…and feels no pain herself. I think consistency should have demanded that Mrs. Coulter flinch as a result of the slap she delivered. Also on a conceptual point: If a dæmon is a physical representation of a human soul, then (a) how can that dæmon have a personality distinct and different from the human’s? how could the “soul” every do anything that the human didn’t want it to do? and (b) how could a female human have a male soul? or vice versa?

Anyway…I’m sure there must be answers to these questions, but they certainly aren’t to be found in the film.

(A final note on the dæmons: This isn’t the first time for the sentient-animal-inextricably-linked-with-human idea. Ages of myth and folklore have given us this concept in witches’ familiars. More recently in the fantasy genre, Jennifer Roberson made use of it in her “Cheysuli” novels, starting with “Shapechangers” in 1984. And she did a better job of it.)

Back to Lyra. Main characters should definitely always have some major flaw about them, perhaps even a tragic flaw. If that is what the filmwriters were trying to achieve through Lyra’s obnoxiousness, they failed. They succeeded only in making her annoying and nearly impossible to empathize with. She is the major reason I wouldn’t show this film to a child: I would want no child of mine to identify with her as a main character and imitate her. Main characters automatically function as role models for children. I certainly wouldn’t want my children to consider such an obnoxious, anti-authority personality a role model for behavior.

Furthermore, the film generally encompasses themes that I consider too adult for children. There’s the drunken bear whom Lyra recruits as one of her closest allies. There’s the sexual undertone as she (a child herself) manipulates the bear king into following her plan. There’s the violence of the bears themselves. (In a fight between two bears, one tears the other’s lower jaw off. I imagine a child would find this scary. But perhaps I’m being too biased here; ever since Three-Toes of “The Wilderness Family,” I have been terrified of bears, gentle Samson notwithstanding; so perhaps I’m just projecting a childhood fear in this case. {But I think not.}) There’s the concept of the kidnapping of children for nefarious purposes. There’s the idea that all authority is dangerous and to be thwarted.

I don’t think young children need exposure to such themes.

Older children, on the other hand, might benefit from watching the movie with parents and following up with in-depth discussion. I believe firmly that if parents are teaching the values and concepts they should be teaching in the first place, then they have nothing to fear from older children’s exposure to other beliefs and values. That’s all I’ll say about that for now, though, as that’s a whole ‘nother soapbox. ;o)

Now for the film’s theological implications.

I didn’t see any.

What?!?

Okay, here’s the deal: Society in the world of “Compass” is controlled by a religious entity known as the Magisterium. Another glitch I have with the film is that the nature of this Magisterium wasn’t presented very clearly. It was nearly impossible to catch the names of the leaders, figure out their specific functions (for instance, I knew Christopher Lee's character was there, but I never really knew why), or even discover their actual motivations. This aspect of the film felt very loose-end and hasty to me: Scenes passed quickly, unclearly, and confusingly. I came away with the sense that the Magisterium is designed to represent the Catholic Church, or at least organized religion, but I can’t say if that’s an idea I formed based on the film itself or on the opinions of others that biased me beforehand (see 2nd paragraph). :oP

What was clear was that the Magisterium is heavy-handed, has its fingers in all the pies, and carries itself with a general Orwellian air of everyone-is-equal-except-the-ones-that-aren’t.

To me, this is not a theological implication, even if “Golden Compass” author Phillip Pullman and the film’s scriptwriters meant it to be a theological implication. There was no “killing of God” in this film, as the hype would have us believe. If there was a veiled attack on “Christianity” in the film, then it came in the form of a subtle criticism of Catholicism, which would only be problematic if one equates Catholicism with Christianity, which I don’t.

I have also heard, though, that the “killing of God” doesn’t take place until the third part of the trilogy…but I am writing now of “Compass” and not of some as-yet-unmade film I haven’t seen. I have also heard that the theological implications are more blatant in the book…but I’m reviewing the film, here, not the book.

Caveat emptor, let the buyer beware—with “The Golden Compass” and with everything else in life. If I started boycotting everything connected with the proponents of atheism, I would eventually have to seek out a lonely cave somewhere and isolate myself from the rest of the world. History’s ascetics did the same, and that’s not the will of God for any human, I believe. His will is that we “test everything and keep the good.”

“The Golden Compass” is a film for adults, not for children, unless parents are willing to take the time and put in the effort required for serious, patient discussion. Those who practice discernment need have no fear of this film. If Pullman and the filmwriters have an agenda, the best defense against it is to examine it and combat it with knowledge, not with the kind of reactionary sensationalism that inspires fear and intractability. (I once posted thoughts in a similar vein on the so-called “Gospel of Judas” here)

By itself, this film is no more “good” (morally speaking) or “evil” than any other run-of-the-mill fantasy film. If the book’s author or the filmwriters intended it to have a moral message beyond the confines of its own fantasy-world-boundaries (aside from the idea of let-us-have-no-oppressive-bodies-of-government), that message doesn’t come across.

And I guess that’s all I have to say about that.

P.S. I took a big chunk out of my novel-writing day to get all this down, so I want to hear no complaints that I wrote too much or didn’t address something somebody else considers vital. ;oD

i crack me up

While messaging Isaac earlier, I realized that if Ed and I put our names together the way it's done with celebrities nowadays (as in Bennifer; Tomkat; Jendra, or Kennifer, as I like to call them) ;o) our options would be as follows:

Edney (This one is acutally in use, thanks to Enrico, who once called us "Court and Edney".)
Courtward
Courtnedward

or, my personal favorite:

Edwartney.


;oD

book comments 4

I coulda sworn I already had a post entitled "book comments 4," but after searching and not finding, I conclude that I haven't such. So, I guess I'll just get on with "4" and not worry about whether or not I'm duplicating something.

I've been reading A LOT lately (for what, prithee, would a writer be who never perused the written word?), and I don't have time to do in-depth reviews of every book. However, here's my Recently Read list, along with brief comments:

"Auralia's Colors" by Jeffrey Overstreet
--entertaining, mysterious, well-written
--fantasy with a refreshing, original twist
The "color" aspect reminds me vaguely of Lois Lowry's "The Giver," but the plots are wholly different from each other.
--highly recommend

"Karavans" by Jennifer Roberson
--excellent character development, lots of "painting" of "word pictures"
I devoured this one and am itching to get the sequel, "Deepwood."
--highly recommend

"A Man in Full" by Tom Wolfe
--have been trying to get through this one since October
--every single character irritates me
--don't recommend

"Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte (with the little dots over the 'e', but I'm on Ed's Mac and can't figure out how to get that letter--sorry!)
--positively brilliant
--engages heart, mind--and, dare I say, soul?--from beginning to end
Why had I never read this book before?!?!!!!?!?!?
Bronte made me feel as though my own well-being were inextricably linked to Jane's.
I was nearly as much in love with Mr. Rochester as Jane herself! ;o)
--highly, highly recommend!

"Lisey's Story" by Stephen King
--weirdly entertaining, highly imaginative, excellent character development (as always, with King)
--possible, though, that only another writer could understand the Scott Landon character
In spite of my aversions to many of King's word choices, I'm glad I broke my "no-more-Stephen-King" vow for this one.
--recommend, but caveat emptor

"The House of the Seven Gables" by Nathaniel Hawthorne
--fascinating plot, lots of painting of word pictures
--too much description of a great number of things
Hawthorne irritated me because he made fun of one of his own characters, Hepzibah, encouraging the reader to laugh at her. The author comes across as a chauvinist, which made me less interested in his story. Yes, I am biased. ;o)
Much of my interest in this novel came from my own visit to the House of the Seven Gables when I was a kid. I'll never forget the secret passageway!
--recommend (but only because it's a classic)

"Evelina" by Fanny Burney
--fun characters, engaging heroine, excellent portrait of 18th century London
I enjoyed Burney's method of telling the story via letters which the characters wrote to each other. Ah, voyeurism! ;o)
I couldn't help but compare this novel to "Jane Eyre" (and, subsequently, Lord Orville to Mr. Rochester) and conclude that Burney's doesn't quite equal Bronte's (as the Lord doesn't quite measure up to the Mr.). But I still enjoyed "Evelina" thoroughly, couldn't put it down, and finished it in two days!
--definitely recommend

"Brother Odd" by Dean Koontz
--third in a...series? trilogy?
--fascinatingly weird, very descriptive, funny
I always enjoy reading Odd Thomas, though I think the first two books about him were better than this one.
I did love the nuns, though.
--recommend, but only if you've read the first two ("Odd Thomas" and "Forever Odd")

Ta-dah.

Up next: "Velocity" by Dean Koontz and "The Crucible" by Arthur Miller

i'm going to try to answer all comments soon

I know I don't have to, nobody's making me, yadda yadda, but I want to. I just haven't done it yet.

You get multiple chocolate chip cookies if you know why all the tags below are relevant. ;o)

conversations with a sleeping ed

A few nights ago, I went to bed just a little while after Ed, as usual. I read for awhile, then put the book away, took off my glasses, and switched off my bedside lamp.

As I was rolling over to get comfortable, Ed leaned up on one elbow, peering blearily up at me. I was getting ready to tell him good night again, when suddenly, he said, "Why are you all green?"

Thinking I'd misunderstood, I replied, "What?"

"Why are you all green?"

"What are you talking about?"

Then came the coup de grâce. He blinked and squinted and frowned as though unable to find the right words. Finally, he asked, "Are you the Incredible Hulk?"

;oD

one of the reasons i like living on the north american continent

Ed and I now live within easy driving distance of both sets of parents.

This means that the six of us can get together. Tonight, we did just that, as Ed's folks are in town for the weekend. I know I've mentioned before how much I am enjoying being around family...

...but have I mentioned before how much I am enjoying being around family? ;o)

It's just neat to sit in my parents' living room, look around, and see my parents and his parents, chatting together, laughing together, and getting to know each other better. They've been a part of each other's lives for ten years. I feel all cozy and pleased to think that they're finally able to spend time together, and Ed and I can be part of that and get to know our parents as they relate to each other.

My grandparents never really had that. My grandmas corresponded with each other for forty years, but the four of them never got together simply for the pleasure of getting to know one another. I'm very thankful that in this next generation, my parents and Ed's are taking a different path--and a more heart-oriented one, I believe.

Culture shock and missing Germany aside...this is nice.

a few items of randomness

The title says it. No further introduction.

--Tonight, Ed and I dropped by Buy-For-Less (not Best Buy! I'm getting it right this time!) after our dinner date. We strayed into the international foods aisle and pored over some of the items. This time, I didn't cry! And we bought Spätzle (Swabian egg noodles)!

--This week, I spent two days babysitting the Antwines' great-grandson, Ethan, since Clyde had surgery on Tuesday and Queenie couldn't take care of husband and toddler at the same time. (Imagine that!) Let me preface my following remarks with this: Ethan is adorable; an incurable flirt; and the best-behaved one-year-old I have ever met. The second day, he didn't feel well, and even then, he was still easier to take care of than nine out of ten other kids. He and I had great fun together, and when he came to me and wanted to be cuddled....well, to say my insides melted would be an understatement.

However, I also must say that I'm thankful that babies come in much smaller, less mobile packages at first. Going from no-kid straight to take-care-of-toddler absolutely wore me out. I can't remember when I was last as tired as I was at the end of those two days. And the fact that he needed my near-constant attention...well, I'll put it this way: I wouldn't be able to be a writer and take care of a baby at the same time. It just wouldn't happen.

So, for now, I am perfectly content to be the writer. Nothing against anybody or anybody's babies. It's not you, it's not them, it's me. So many of my friends and family have had babies over the last few weeks, this subject has been on my mind quite bit. My conclusion is that I am wholly selfish in this: I'm not willing to give up my time and energy for a child right now. That being the case, I have no business having one, and I currently have no problem with being selfish in this way. Yes, I would like to have a baby at some point...but not now.

Just in case anybody was wondering. ;o) Maybe this will forestall any comments such as, "Courtney, you need to have a baby." I haven't heard a lot of those since the miscarriage (thankfully, people do have a sense of tact!), but the number of such comments has been increasing of late. It hasn't gotten to the point of severe irritation yet...but I have found myself replying mentally with fairly snarky remarks that I'm not going to repeat here.

I didn't want this to turn into a baby-thoughts post, so that's all I'm gonna say about that for now.

--By the way, I whacked my head on the corner of the bathroom cabinet almost two weeks ago. The huge knot has disappeared, but it still hurts a little. I don't think I've ever hit my head that hard before. I actually saw spots, went to my knees, and thought I might pass out on the edge of the tub and probably hit my head a second time. Thankfully, that didn't happen, and I didn't even throw up (in which case I would definitely have passed out), but still.... God knew what he was doing when he designed that skull, lemme tell ya.

--Our email didn't work properly for a month, and I am still catching up on the piled-up inbox. There were over 250 emails to sort! I narrowed the must-answer ones down to about 70, and I'm slowly working my way through them. I'm down to 23. Of course, that's not counting the ones that have come in since I started sorting.

Verily, verily, I say unto thee, I am seriously tempted to boycott email and tell everyone that if they want me to write them, they'd better send something through snail mail, 'cause I ain't doin' this no more. I am tempted, mind you. I'm still resisting.

(Resistance is futile; I will be assimilated? Hmmm....)

Okay, enough with the random. Ich gehe jetzt ins Bett, und damit basta!

(English-only speakers, make of that last what you will, but I truly didn't say anything indelicate!) ;oD

purging the soul of negative thoughts that won't change anything

It is an unfortunate and frustrating thing not to be forgiven one's inefficiency.

But if someone refuses to forgive me for mine, it is not my problem.

excerpt from Pippin's thoughts

"Hey, look! A _____________! I wonder if I could jump on that?"

my good deed for today

Once again, I would like to direct your attention here. I won't say anything further about this, because here is quite self-explanatory.

something i miss about germany

In Germany, you can buy terribly swell stickers imprinted with the words "Bitte keine Reklame oder kostenlose Zeitungen." This means "No advertisements or free newspapers, please."

Guess where you get to place these ingenious stickers?

That's right, Gentle Reader: You get to place them ON YOUR MAILBOX.

In Germany, companies can get into trouble if your mailbox bears one of these stickers and ads and papers end up inside said mailbox anyway.

THIS PRACTICALLY ELIMINATES JUNK MAIL.

I MISS THAT.

THANK YOU.

griping about pop culture again

Today I decided that TV fads are the entertainment equivalent of a date-drug-rapist who keeps feeding you more booze after he sees that you liked the first drink.

This is only partly tongue-in-cheek. :op

i'm 17 today!

Well, the day is almost over, but I thought I'd still write a brief note to say that 17 years ago today, I became a Christian! The older I get, the more I feel like celebrating this day and not putting as much emphasis on my physical birthday.

After all, why should any congratulate me on my physical birthday? I had nothing to do with it. My mom did all the work--if anyone gets goodies on this day, she should be the one! And my dad should receive congratulations as well, since without him, I wouldn't have happened, either. ;o) As a matter of fact, both my parents deserve kudos (not just on my physical b-day, but on every day of the year!) for raising me the way they did, for being better parents than I ever gave them credit for as a kid, and for showing me what it's like to have strength and faith in God through adversity. I deserve no accolades on my physical birthday. Let it all go to my parents!

And what do I want for my spiritual birthday? Just be happy with me! No matter how crazy my life gets or how down I feel sometimes, I am always happy on a spiritual level (which has nothing to do with my emotions) because I have a relationship and intimate connection with God. That's something to celebrate every day of my life! And I am overjoyed for others to be happy with me on this day.

For today, I want to celebrate that I've been with God for 17 amazing, adventurous, and challenging years. I wouldn't trade them for anything!

P.S. As a somewhat peculiar anecdote, I'll also regale you with the tale that 17 years ago today, I threw up Mexican food and passed out. The End. ;o)

mouth boogers, revisited

In my first post regarding this disgusting dilemma, I promised an update on the mouth booger / toothpaste situation. I've been telling myself recently that I really needed to write that update (since I know you're all dying to hear whether or not my mouth lining is still sloughing dead cells with such great abandon), but I hadn't gotten around to it yet.

However, two things have served to motivate me: first of all, the gift of German toothpaste from Sophia (THANK YOU!!!) a few weeks ago, and secondly, the email I received from Doreen today, in which she expressed an interest in how my mouthbooger-problem-solving is proceeding. (Übrigens, falls ihr beide dies liest: Ihr werdet beide bald von mir persönliche Korrespondenz erhalten, denn endlich funktioniert unser Emailprogramm wieder richtig! Hurra ! Und danke, danke, danke, daß ihr an mich gedacht habt!) (Auch ein großes Dankeschön an alle anderen, die mir in letzter Zeit geschrieben haben, die aber noch keine Antwort erhalten haben. Ich werde bald zurückschreiben!)

Okay, so here's the actual update: Since my original posted complaint, I have experienced no mouth boogers! One might think that the mouth boogers read my diatribe and made haste to depart....but no, it was not my well-wielded sword (i.e. the mighty pen) that drove them away, but, instead, two--count them: TWO--American toothpastes! *gasp!*

The Rembrandt Mint toothpaste I mentioned? Works brilliantly! And Val recommended Tom's of Maine Orange Mango, which not only works splendidly but also tastes yummy! Imagine my delighted surprise when I realized that my mouth-booger days are over!

At least, they're over for now. As I've mentioned before, sometimes I've used a toothpaste for quite awhile before my mouth suddenly rebels for unknown reasons. Against that day, I am saving the Elmex/Aronal that Sophia so generously donated to the cause. That way, if my mouth does decide to reject both Rembrandt and Tom's of Maine, I can whip out my trusty German toothscrubbing pistols and blast those mouth boogers back to the oblivion whence they came!

By the way, I took Excedrin earlier, which contains a lot of caffeine, and which bears sole responsibility for what I think is the rather amusing wordiness of this post.

Thank you.

a culture shock tidbit

Below is my comment on something Allison posted in her blog:

Allison wrote: '...in the past couple days there have been a few instances when I have been waiting at a counter to either order food, ask a question, or pay for an item and I have felt totally lost in the non-order of the situation.... I was frustrated by the time someone finally acknowledged me and had the audacity to ask, "Uhh, do you need something?" (no, I just hang out here for kicks.).......A "bitte schön" would have been nice, but instead, nothing.......I just started talking, uncomfortable but not sure what else to do.'

I quoted all of that because those tidbits are *exactly* what I've been experiencing lately but haven't been able to put into words. THANK YOU, Allison!!!!! It's not that I'm demanding service....but it would be nice if the cashiers and whozits paid at least as much attention to me, the customer, as they do to each other!

Gah!

Helloooooo, culture shock, indeed. ;o)

today's migraine, revisited

The Excedrin never did seem to take effect.

However, I remembered that I still had a few essential oils remaining from the time I used them so frequently a few years back. (I stopped using them because the pure quality was so hard to find in Germany, and I couldn't afford to pay $50 in import tax every time I ordered some from the U.S.)

So a few minutes ago, I went to my stash and read the little pamphlet I have on the uses of some essential oils. I found lavender oil and peppermint oil and massaged some of each into my temples.

The relief was almost immediate. Where the pain-tension radiated outward from the center of my forehead, the cool of the peppermint radiates inward from my temples and seems to ease the pressure. As though someone were loosening that too-tight screw I mentioned in my earlier post.

The pain-tension isn't completely gone, but I am experiencing a definite relief. I'll keep using the peppermint throughout the rest of the day; perhaps it will eventually ease the pain-tension into nothingness.

migraine

Well, based on the title above, perhaps you can guess what it is that currently ails me. :o/ It started yesterday evening. I'm not sure what brought it on (I don't get these very frequently, so I'm never sure of exactly what brings them on), but it could've been too much coffee, not enough food, too much cinnamon, or a combination of any or all of those. Or something of which I've not yet become aware.

I thought that nine hours of sleep would take care of this, but it didn't. I woke up with it, and in spite of two Excedrin, I still have it. I'm hoping the Excedrin will still kick in; in the meantime, I am very frustrated and trying to stay as still as possible. My parents brought over three large bookshelves yesterday, and I was looking forward to organizing all our books today. So much for that idea. If the Excedrin does its job, perhaps I'll still be able to pursue that quest. I hope.

Perhaps you're wondering what I'm doing, blopgosting when I have a migraine. Well, I shouldn't be blopgosting, but I wanted to make note of my migrainal impressions while they're current, just for future reference:

--What pain I have is centered in my forehead, radiating out toward my temples.

--My face also hurts a bit, but this is painful pressure related to chronic sinusitis.

--There might be a connection between the sinus pain and the migraine; using nose spray seemed to lessen the pain a little bit yesterday evening.

--I don't actually have a lot of migraine pain. The migraine manifests itself more as a nearly unbearable tension behind my forehead and my eyes, as though everything behind forehead and eyes were slowly solidifying. Or like a screw being over-tightened, millimeter by millimeter.

--When I'm lying flat, I slowly start to feel better. Getting up and moving around causes me to start feeling weak and shaky and elicits an ominous churning in my stomach.

--My eyes are light-sensitive right now. They don't like direct sunlight, and they prefer not being in indirect sunlight, either. However, the indirect light doesn't cause an increase in pain, just a slight increase in that funny tense feeling.

--Speaking of stomach, I was hungry when I got up, but my appetite didn't survive past a few bites of cereal with walnuts and banana (my usual breakfast). I forced myself to eat more, so that I'd have food in my stomach when taking the Excedrin.

--Yesterday evening, I first knew the migraine was coming on when I started seeing these faint, snaky, shimmering lines around the lower edges of my vision. (I have seen these often before, but they're not always connected with pain/weird tension.)

--My sinusitis always flares up when the weather changes (whether it's changing from cold to warm or from warm to cold). I'm wondering if this migraine might also be a reaction to the radical weather changes of the last five days.

That's all for now. I'm gonna close my eyes for awhile.

boundaries

I'm thinking about how unfortunate it is that one person will often promise another person something regarding a third person's behavior. As in, Igor will promise Sam that Detlef will do such-and-such, even though Igor has not previously checked with Detlef about said action. So when ignorant Detlef doesn't do what Igor promised, Sam is disappointed in Detlef and angry with Igor; Igor is on the defensive; and poor Detlef doesn't have a clue what's going on.

Just FYI, I'm not upset about any particular situation; I'm just making some general observations based on some good conversations I had with various people today.

Anyway, the point is:

(A) We each must take responsibility for our own behavior.
(B) We each must allow others to take responsibility for their behavior.
(C) We are disrespecting ourselves and others when we don't follow (A) and (B).

Especially if you have ever been Detlef or Sam, I think you will agree with the validity of these points. You might have a problem with them if you tend more toward being an Igor. ;o)

Not trying to ruffle feathers, just notating some thoughts. ;o)

a linguistic aside

Just a couple of minor points, and then I really am going to bed:

-- Why is it that when I take my desk apart, I dismantle it,
but I do not mantle it by putting it back together again?

-- The phrase "misty-eyed" takes on a whole new meaning when one knows that "Mist" means "dung" in German. ;oD

barbeque-bolstered blatherings

So. Me, I'm up past my bedtime. Yes, shocking as I know it is, I have had a self-imposed bedtime lately. My eventual goal is to be in bed early enough, regularly enough, so as to be able to start my day no later than 7:30 a.m. Some of you, reading this, won't believe that's possible for me to accomplish. But, you naysayers, heed me well: During spring and summer of 2007, I was up nearly every weekday morning at 7:15, and outside running by 7:30. There's no reason I can't work back up to that. I've already been running three times within the last week.

I would've gone this morning, too, but the high Oklahoma wind whistling through my window deterred me. Instead, during the course of my day, I maneuvered furniture around the apartment again and dismantled, moved, and reassembled my 200 lb. desk for the third time.

What started this tangent? Oh yes, my current state of staying-up-late-ness. This evening, Ed and I moseyed across the street to try out this little barbeque joint we've been admiring over the last few weeks. It was yummy (though I'll order Ed's catfish next time instead of the processed turkey meat I so erroneously saw fit to consume), I ate too much, and now I am still digesting. My system is so weird and slow. Other people can eat a big meal and feel fine an hour later; me, I feel full and bloated and gross more than five hours later (i.e. *now*).

Sometimes, if I go to bed on a full stomach after eating too much, I wake up in the middle of the night and have one of my bizarre passing-out spells on the floor of the bathroom. The last one was....when? a few months ago, I think? It was in Dresden, anyway. Ed had to carry me to the bathroom in the middle of the night because I couldn't stand up (there was more involved here than possible loss of consciousness, but believe me, you don't want the gory details) while Randy blazed a trail for us by opening all the doors wide enough for Ed to move through quickly. Thankfully, I didn't pass out at this time

("She doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time...The eel doesn't get her. I'm explaining to you because you look nervous." ;o)

but it was only because Ed was talking to me, and the tile floor I lay on was so cold, giving me something to concentrate on. God watches over me, because I have never had one of these spells when I was alone. I don't know how I would get through one of these without someone with me, helping me stay conscious.

Anyway...I kinda try to avoid having these episodes if at all possible. ;o) At least nowadays, I have a vague inkling of a conceptual hypothesis of what might bring them on: It usually seems to be connected to digestive issues; and sometimes, specifically, to overeating in the evenings. So, a logically thinking person might assume that I would avoid overeating in the evenings. Well, I generally try to avoid overeating at all times. Especially during the evenings.

But sometimes, I am stupid. Sometimes, I forget. Times like tonight.

So here I am at one o'clock in the morning, rambling incoherently into my blog about indigestion and passing out, waiting for my body to let me know it's okay to go to bed. I think it'll need about half an hour more. Don't ask me how I know; it just feels that way.

Have fun storming the castle!

new year's resolution

I will be more connected to Jesus in 2008 than I was in 2007.

Wherever you are, I hope you'll see many blessings during the next year of your life!