Did I Mention I Write for a Magazine?

Well, it's an e-zine, and it's called Femnista, it's amazing, and the new issue just came out this weekend!! You can find the link to read or download it here: http://www.charitysplace.com My column is on page 16, but I encourage you to read all the other lovely articles covering Austen, Dickens, Bronte and To Kill a Mocking Bird.
Enjoy!

Who Am I?

I’m a Christian.

Did you know that? It’s a serious question, did you know? Not the “Oh her? Yeah, she goes to church regularly.” or “She doesn’t swear or drink or sleep around so she’s probably religous.”

I’m talking about being a person that people call a Christian without being told to, not just where I do go on Sunday mornings or what I don’t do during the week.

Did you know that the term “Christian” was coined by so called “Heathens”? To classify people who believed in Jesus Christ. And back in the day when the word was invented, being called one wasn’t exactly a safe occupation, and yes, it very possibly meant death.

Now it’s... “I’m better than you.”

And honestly, sometimes that makes me cry.

When I say that I’m a Christian, is that what you think I mean? And more importantly, is this idea supported by my actions?

I have, in my younger years given my life to God. I know that sounds like a religious statement. Hearing it often evokes mental pictures of Mother Theresa or one of those crazy curbside yelling fanatics who screams scripture all day long at passing cars. I hope when I said it I meant that I realized that my ideas for my life are useless, shallow and worthless, and I saw that God’s plan for me was better, the best, cause he’s the best, and I wanted to be like him, like Christ. In essence, a Christian.

My realization was a very long time ago. I’ve spent over a decade comfortable in the knowledge that God loved me and I was going to heaven. But, have I been a Christian? No, not always, and mostly... not at all. Whether or not a person grows up in a envorment where church is present most understand somewhat the concept of Jesus. Jesus was that guy on the cross. He feed the poor, he talked to people, all people. And he talked about love a lot.

Love.

Gracious goodness, what a word. Poets have only been striving for thousands of years to figure that one out. It’s beyond complicated. The Christian community claim to love their fellow Christians, yet they are all too eager to call attention to their faults. That they don’t have enough love. I find myself privately thinking like that more often than I care to admit “Those Christians think this about me, they think they’re so much better... “ They... they.. THEY!

But what about me? In my “Christian-ness” am I loving people? And I’m not just restricting this to my fellow believers, approving of their Christian-ness and loving them, it’s easy enough to put on one’s “Church-face” at church and in my public life as the good girl who does (and doesn’t do) the right (or wrong) things.

But you know what? I’ve lived with my “Church Face” long enough to know that the man I claim to serve would hate it. Really really hate it, like spew thee out of my mouth type of hate. Because no matter how holy looking my church face is, it doesn’t love my fellow men like Jesus did. Jesus didn’t judge people, and he commanded us not to, to look at our own selves first, and the one who has no sin to cast the first stone. When I head to church on Sunday mornings and see a drunk stumbling down the street, as I subconsciously straighten my appropriate church clothing and walk past I judge that person if I mean to or not. If I was a true follower of Christ I would love that person. I would hug my fellow human being and, yes, it would dirty my stuck-up church clothes. And I wouldn’t notice. I would give of my money and my time to make sure this person, knows that someone cares. And I wouldn’t give it a second thought. And I wouldn’t do it to look good or because somebody might be watching.

But I don’t.

I don’t give myself to these wonderful human beings that God made and God loves. Not in the way I’m suppose to.

Now I’m about to say something you’ve heard before. Several thousands times. I know I’ve heard it enough times to desensitize myself myself from the magnitude of it. And I’ve heard it from the lips of enough people who said it for the wrong reason. Their church face plastered so obviously on that it makes me want to avoid it all together. But all that doesn’t make it any less true. So please, bare with me.

Jesus died on the cross for us.

So many times it’s me, not us. People say it with an air of importance as if since you acknowledge that it makes them better. So called “Christians” treat it like it’s a high quality insurance company “I have State Farm. I’m in good hands. You’re not in good hands. Poor you.”

What about the fact that Jesus dies for EVERYBODY? And that he did it because he loves them? And what about the fact that he commanded us to do the same? To love people who don’t deserve it and give our lives for them.

I’m very good at talking about the concept of love. I can wax on and on about it without moving an inch out of my comfort zone to actually do some really loving, the kind that’s hard to do.

So basically, I’ve been lying to you.

I’m sorry.

I say I’m a Christian but... I’m not. I don’t follow Christ. I follow me. I follow my comfort zone and what makes me happy. I don’t love my fellow man like I should. I don’t give of myself enough to the people I approve of, much less the ones who it would be a little harder to love, I judge them. I look down on them. You would not believe the thoughts I’ve had about people that God loves enough to die for them. I lie. I cheat. I think myself better, smarter, prettier. I elevate myself to a special position just because I... grew up in Sunday School?

That’s wrong... so so wrong. It’s sin. It’s worse than drinking or swearing or anything else. I have misused the name of my Lord by saying I represent him when I have such hate in my heart.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

I’m sorry for putting my puny problems above the poverty and pain of humanity. I’m sorry for not being Jesus to you.

I’m a Christian.

And the real question is: Do I know that? Do I try to actually be like Christ to everyone I meet? I think maybe I should have anew dream of “When I grow up I want to be..” and I want to be a Christian. The real deal. The way it used to be. I want people who don’t believe in God to see my (probably disastrous, but hopefully sincere) attempts to follow him and think “That girl right there is someone who loves without judgement, without holding back, without pretense or a Church face. Kinda like a man once known as Jesus Christ.”

I know I’m not perfect like him and that I can’t be. And this is my confession. That I’m not. I’m not Christ. But I want to be, with everything in me, I want to be a Christian.

Did you know that?

Frigidarium: A True Story (Of Sorts)

I was trying to compose in my head

A poem, on my way to the shed

(Or garage, but that's hard to rhythm)

And I was taking my precious time

Being optimistic poetic me,

Not knowing what was going to shortly be.

The male members of our home

Wanted cake, frozen and under a dome

Of the ice cream variety

So I'd gone with female piety

To fetch it from the freezer

(I've been told I'm a people pleaser)

My mother told me to surely go

Making sure not to stub a toe

Through the back door since it wasn't locked

As the normal way between the cars was blocked.

My new poem was meant to rhapsodize

On how the magnolia petals lie.

How they crunch beneath my feet

As I walk on their soft, unblemished sheet.

I wanted to rhyme how the night air

And the cricket's beat transports me somewhere.

While my mind was on that

I pulled the door close so it didn't bat

And bang in the wind annoyingly

And bother my mother worry-ingly

I picked my way over garage-y stuff

Which I can tell you, is tough

When one is in pitch darkness

With only a small light in the mess.

I opened the freezer to discover

There wasn't light there neither!

I exclaimed my displeasure

And then felt around for good measure.

But it was a bigger than normal ice box

And I felt out smarted by the fox

Of my own absentmindedness

It was silly of me, I must confess

Not to remember a flashlight

Yet on went I with all my might

And stuck in both my arms

Never thinking of the harms

But I lost my footing

Horizontally positioning was my ending

And then my wandering hands

Came up empty... oh my Lands!

I was stuck in the cooler

Could I be more of a fooler?

Stuck like Pooh, half in half out.

I was most definitely a lout

And believe me, it hurt

As cold began seeping through my night shirt.

I struggled for a moment

And only manged to get more bent

I stopped and started considering

If nosily yelling and bellowing

Was in any way dignified.

If I told myself it was, I would have lied.

In this moment of self reflection

To my amazement and fun

Found the cake that I'd been sent for

Only to end up stuck in the freezer door.

I pulled at it much too promptly

Considering my task fait accompli

Then the lid came off, and with it the cake

How much more of a mess could I make?

I somehow caught them both right side up

But felt most unhappy and cutup.

I was stuck, in the dark

Balancing ice cream cake, what a lark!

Then, Oh rapturous joy unbound!

The wondrous mother of mine had found

Her daughter gone quite long

And worried something might be wrong.

She called from the entry way

To hurry and not delay!

I begged her to turn on the light

And to aid me in my desperate plight.

But alas, my muffled voice

Did not transport, she had no choice

But misunderstand me

And although I could finally see

For, the light she switched on

But to my aid, came none.

I urged myself out with relief

Happy to get past it with my teeth

Deciding not to go the way I came

In truth, I felt rather lame.

I snaked my way between the cars,

Almost like prison bars.

It was not nice going, I admit.

I was near on at the end of my wit

When on the hitching post

My Pj's caught, (this is not a boast!)

I tugged them free at last

And made my way fast

To the door to get inside

And I do not think I cried.

But then, of course, it was locked,

And I sighed and (loudly) knocked.

Only to have it opened to hear

After everything "The cake is not needed, my dear.”

…

So instead I ate Greek yogurt

(Healthier by far) but I still wanted to blurt

Out my woes to you, my friends

To the trivial my life does tend.

Yet it has it's almost charming in the end,

A funny story, is how I defend.

Such horrid rhythms and no meter

I apologies most humbly dear reader.

At the last you must know

The moral to this unnecessary show

Is that poetry is dangerous

And always cause a ruckus.

Ignore poetic magnolias soft and sweet

If you want to keep your feet!

(*Disclaimer* I have never professed to be anything close to a poet. Mostly I just like thought in short verse and capitalizing words in the middle of sentences ;-P)

*Much thanks to Merrill for her awesome-ness!

Fools In Love (Or: A Post In Which Lydia Gives Her Opinion On A Subject She Knows Absolutely Nothing About: Love)

People, in general, are idiots.

My mother, if she read that last sentence, would undoubtedly give me one of her well weathered “looks”. It's well weathered because I have a tendency to blurt out unfinished thoughts bluntly and without sufficient logic to back them up, and most of the time, I deserve the looks, and am smart to heed it by shutting my big mouth, but this time it's different, this time I've thought long and hard about it, asked opinions of several different people and spent an entire life time researching it.

I, as most of you know, am an incurable romantic. I believe there is a perfect someone out there for everyone, that true love exists, and yes, that 'happily ever after' is achievable. From this description it would be safe to assume that, paired with my occupation, as a librarian, and my love of enjoying stories I would be a devoted fan of literature and the silver screen's greatest love stories and couples,

Nope.

Can't stand them.

(I should note here that I complied this list from a sampling of several different opinions on the internet, and I don't hate all the stories on the lists. Jane Austen does, and always will have a special place in my heart, but stories like hers, although on the list, are a definite minority.)

Basically because the characters in theses stories (or at least the main guy and girl) are ridiculously idiotic. Why? Because, this being a love story, they're in love, and if stories are to be believed (they say life imitated art after all) love is neigh on insanity.

"When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal and exhausting condition until death do them part." ~George Bernard Shaw

I rarely agree with George Bernard Shaw (after all, Pygmalion, which was on some of the lists, has a rather unsatisfactory ending, although I love Freddie, I can't help but get the feeling that Eliza doesn't really love him) but here he seems to capture my thought exactly.

Now before all the other incurable romantics have me drawn and quartered let me provide evidence for my case:

Romeo and Juliet:

The mention of this Shakespearean masterpiece always seems to entice sighs from the present female company, I have no idea why. Sure, it's Shakespeare. Sure, the title characters are a cute couple, they love through family disapproval, they remain true and dedicated to each other, they are poetically, fully and deeply in love. Despite the fact that they're closer to FOURTEEN then twenty, it's adorable... that is until they both go and die because they think the other is dead. I understand that when in love at 14 one is never thinking straight but isn't it slightly ridiculous that it never crossed either of their minds to verify the information or even check for a pulse! Never mind that if the other one truly loved them that they would want them to stay alive! Some might find the “I can't live without you” sentiment to be true, but I find it a trifle uncaring, and selfish. I know I don't know what it's like to lose someone you love more than life itself, but from my own point of view if I died tomorrow the very last thing I would want my love ones to do would be to follow me. I love them, and I want them to live.

Various Couples of the Arthurian Legend:

Arthur and Guinevere and Lancelot. Ugh. I hate love triangles. The story of Camelot is one of the oldest we have, proof that the “love means I can take leave of my senses and do stupid things” excuse is nothing new. Guinevere has an affair with her husband's best friend which results in the down fall of Camelot. And her reason? Her husband was too perfect. Seriously Lady? You're excuse for bringing about the destruction of the greatest kingdom of all Myth and Lore is the annoying perfection of your royal husband, who, by the way, forgave you for ruining his life and kingdom before going of to die in the war YOU started. Oh I can totally see where you're coming from there. And Tristan and Isolde? She's married, to the man who raised him. And he dies. I really don't see how that's romantic.

Wurthuring Heights:

Both Catherine and Heathcliff marry other people who neither of them love as revenge on each other, and the then they die and become ghosts.

Gone With The Wind:

The film has rather gorgeous costumes... other than that... ugh.

Anna Karenina:

She commits suicide by throwing herself in front of a train. Pleasant.

Casablanca:

Two years later... “Oh look we've all managed to meet up in a charmingly named town and spend the rest of the movie giving each other meaningful looks and not talking about anything important.”

*close up of Ingrid Bergman crying cause she can't decide which man she loves more*

Which man will she end up with?

Her husband, or Humphrey Bogart?

And most importantly: Why Do I even care?

Believe me... I could go on and on and on about how stupid these people act in the name of love, and I just don't understand it, I guess because I'm a romantic, but a practical one. And while I understand that happily ever after isn't very practical I still don't understand why it has to go the complete other direction into death and tragedy , and why the tragic love stories are the one's society remembers and upholds as “true love”.

. How do we even know if their love was going to last longer than a week? Also, when they die, there's no point in their senseless death. Yes, their families reconcile when they die but I have a feeling eloping and bringing home an adorable grandchild a year later might have done the same. Grandparents tend to melt into piles of butter around cute babies. If they'd actually thoughts things through, it could have worked out better. Instead they make a bunch of stupid decisions, is stupidity romantic?In the heat of conversation a couple of weeks ago I declared to a friend that when one half or both halves of a couple dies I did not considered their story to be romantic anymore. At his obvious confusion at my words I've now taken time to rethink what I meant by them. You see, if a person dies to save another, it's the greatest sacrifice they can give, and that's very admirable. But I think death, as well as life, should have some type of meaning. I don't consider the death Romeo and Juliet to be romantic, somewhat because there was no life before the death, they'd known each other all of

So why is love acceptable excuse for being an idiot? Just cause one's senses are dulled with raging emotions it doesn’t mean taking leave of common sense should be considered the norm. Love is one of the reasons that make life worth living and a precious gift from God, it should be cherished -not misused.

Once, a young mother I know told me that when she and her now husband were engaged they'd stay up into the wee hours of the morning talking on the phone every night, and because of her job at that point in time she'd only get four or so hours of sleep a night before having to be up in the later wee hours of the morning, and she survived on that for a while with no bad effects. When asked for an explanation of this phenomenon she laughed and said with an eye roll “I was young and in love!” Now I'm know she didn't mean that she and her husband are no longer in love, but that it's different now, she's a mother of several young children I'm sure she covets every hour of sleep she can muster. Now that, I consider to be romantic. Yeah it was completely goofy of them to deprive themselves of sleep, their fiancee would still be there at a decent hour. Personally, I love my sleep, we're best buds, and I can not imagine giving it up willing like that, no matter how handsome and witty he is, so, for me that would be a simple, yet adorable form of crazy in love.

One of my dearest married friends reiterated the other day how uncomplicated she and her husband's per-marital relationship was compared to most people, and pointed out that nobody remembers the sweet simple couples, just the messy complicated and often horrible relationships. That lead me to ask:

Why?

Why do we as a society revel in the swirling dating lives, marriages (plural) and messy divorcees of celebrities? Is it so we learn not to repeat their mistakes, or because we find it, of all things, entertainment? This is these people's heartbreak, why should we revel in it? Why should we find Scarlett O'Hara's stealing of her sister's fiancee for his money to be “epic”? Why is Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart's kiss in Casablanca considered to be the most romantic ever when Ingrid Bergman's character is married to another man? Why isn't Albert and Victoria's loving happy fairy tale marriage as famous as Charles and Diana's dramatically tragic one? People tease me for being a romantic, but I don't really see what there is to tease about. As defined by our culture romance is... sad. Is it good that we uphold this sadness as the greatest we can have in life?

I'm still a proud romantic, and I do love a good sappy boy-meets-girl. The ones I tear up over, they aren't perfect, people make mistakes, people die, life happens. That's what I expect someday when I fall in love. I'll make mistakes, yeah, I'll say things I don't mean, and completely mess up. But if it's God's will and I'm going to do my best to steer clear from being a complete idiot. I think my guy and I, we'll be good, and it'll be my kind of romantic, basically: the non-needlessly tragic kind.

I Believe In Someday

I believe someday I might simply die of happiness...
today was not that day,
nor will tomorrow be...
but I have hope.
I believe in someday.

"...Dreams are dangerous things - they look solid in your mind, but you just try to reach for them. It's like gathering clouds." ~Hattie Big Sky

I used to be a good blogger, correction, I used to be an amazing blogger.

At least compared to the blogger I am now, which is a lowly, idiotic, lazy, I'll-do-it-next-week-probably blogger.

I am sincerely sorry.

But really I'm not all to blame. The big culprit?

This dude:

I admit, it does steal my time some, but more than that, it uses up my creativity. I prefer my statuses to be a bit on the witty side, or at the very least somewhat amusing, and hopefully never boring. It my fb status is ever as dull as "I'm going to bed now." You have my permission to fine me for dullness. It seems these past few months when ever I would have a creative urge, I would sit down to write a post, (and since it had been so long since I'd updated it would have to be a good long one) I'd eventually run out of time, and rather than publishing a half-finished or fragmented post I'd post the gist of my idea on fb.

For instance, the name of this post is my current fb status, I thought about writing a review about the book I just finished Hattie Big Sky, but I didn't have time, so instead I published one of the my favorite quotes from it. (BTW, I highly recommend the book, it's a Newberry Award winner!)

Since Facebook is daily stealing from my blog I thought it was time for my blog to steal back (considering it's all in the family anyway). Here are some of my status in no order at all since... as far back as I decide to copy/paste before I get tired.

Enjoy!

Lydia Margaret hates getting her hopes up only to have them dashed... :-(

I'm the type of girl who will walk 4 blocks in the pouring rain to avoid parallel parking.

Luke has renamed the Big Pond, it is now the Athletic Ocean.

IMHO middle aged women should NOT have Hannah Montana ring tones.

Sometimes I forget that when I'm talking... people listen to me occasionally.

Our house is currently layered gray over yellow with orange dots with the occasion patches of white. Seriously.

Apparently Grace University thinks I should try out for a music scholarship. ME! The girl who plays piano by ear, and can't carry a tune in a bucket with a handle. *dies laughing*

Sometimes all I want is be ultimately special to someone....

My "oh-so-strong-oh-so-superior" little brother just asked me to open a jar for him. *savors this wonderful moment*

Soup: It's what's for lunch.

A warmed-up car, cute tights and stylish boots, a little coffee in my cream.... I'm ready to start my day! :-)

I pride myself on being a person who can laugh at her own mistakes (and believe me they many and often) but I'm afraid someday soon I'll do something incredibly stupid, something that won't ever be funny, something I can't laugh off. It scares me....

"Do you ever feel like the whole world is a tux and you're a pair of brown shoes?"

I had the whole gas station and the cafe next door laughing at my attempt to back my car to where I could pump gas.... *sigh*

"TEA." = The Jane Austen equivalent of "How about them Cubs?"


"I'm like a facebook flair, little, round, and occasionally goofy."


Seriously, I have the most selfless, strong, caring, loving, understanding, sweet Mother ever. She's the BEST!

On Avoiding Writing

"Usually, writers will do anything to avoid writing. For instance, the previous sentence was written at one o’clock this afternoon. It is now a quarter to four. I have spent the past two hours and forty-five minutes sorting my neckties by width, looking up the word “paisly” in three dictionaries, attempting to find the town of that name on The New York Times Atlas of the World map of Scotland, sorting my reference books by width, trying to get the bookcase to stop wobbling by stuffing a matchbook cover under its corner, dialing the telephone number on the matchbook cover to see if I should take computer courses at night, looking at the computer ads in the newspaper and deciding to buy a computer because writing seems to be so difficult on my old Remington, reading an interesting article on sorghum farming in Uruguay that was in the newspaper next to the computer ads, cutting that and other interesting articles out of the newspaper, sorting—by width—all the interesting articles I’ve cut out of newspapers recently, fastening them neatly together with paper clips and making a very attractive paper clip necklace and bracelet set, which I will present to my girlfriend as soon as she comes home from the three-hour low-impact aerobic workout that I made her go to so I could have some time alone to write.”
— P. J. O’Rourke
The Wit and Wisdom of P. J. O’Rourke

Why do We Write? *Evil Laugh*

"Some people assume that authors write books because we have vivid imaginations and want to share our vision. Other people think we write because we are bursting with and therefore must scribble those stories down in moments of propondenty. Both groups are completely wrong. Authors write books for one and only one reason. Because we like to torture people. Now actual torture in frowned upon in civilized society, fortunately the authorial community has discovered in story telling an even more powerful and fulfilling means of causing agony. We write stories, and by doing so we engage in a perfectly legal way of doing all sorts of terrible things to our readers. Take for instance, the word I used above, "propondenty", there is no such word. I made it up. Why? Because it amused me to think of thousands of readers looking up a nonsense word in their dictionaries. Authors also create wonderful loving characters, then proceed to do terrible things to them. This makes the readers feel hurt and worried for the characters. The simple truth is: authors like making people squirm. If this weren't the case, all novels would be full of cute bunnies having birthday parties. So now you know why I would write a book. Ask yourself this: would any kindhearted individual become an author? Of course not. So there.

~Alcatraz Vs. the Evil Librarians
By Brandon Sanderson

NOTE: I am posting this quote purely because it makes me laugh, I do not in any way agree with the statement above and I can't actually recommend this book out right. It mentions magic and can be quite silly. I enjoyed it as a light read, but I can guarantee that not everyone will.

This is Pitiful and I Know it

40 words

Typingtest

L. I. I. L! A.F.U.L.F.L.

If you all are wondering what that anagram stands for see The Blank Page for the answer!

How's this for Deep?

Last Wednesday was a deep day.

The loss of my hair brush spun me into a deep, poetic, thoughtful mood. My mind was engaged with complicated subjects like life, happiness, God's relationship with man and... Change. Hence a 1900 word post.

If you hadn't noticed I haven't made a peep on the blogesphere since then. Because a) I was busy having a very delightful weekend with Aunt Alice, Abutton, Merry and E. and b) because I wasn't sure how to follow up my last post.

I'm only that deep once in a blue moon. The weirdest things affect my deepness, the weather, circumstances, a scripture verse or a flippant comment someone makes, they all send me into my infamous "deep mood". I wish there was a way to harness deepness (I do my best writing during deepness) but I can't control it and today the deepness is gone. *POOF*

So what do I do? What do I post that will make my readers think? Something me-ish but still something everyone will empathize with and understand.

I pondered it all day and finally came up with something I think everyone will agree with.

Ready?

"I wish there was chocolate that was calorie free, sugar free, carb free, fat free and guilt free that was yummy to eat, good for you and still good ol' sweet gooey chocolate."

Wordy Wednesday English Assignment About a Social Evil

Evil, it’s a hard word to pin down. The dictionary defines it as “profoundly immoral or wrong.” But what is immortality? Many would say it is what is right or wrong. But what is right and wrong? 200 years ago this would have been an easy question to answer. Then white and wrong was black and white. Even in underdeveloped countries and lands wrong always followed that same similar guidelines or laws. These laws can be boiled down to two basic principles (1) Do all you have agreed to do. (2) Do not encroach on other persons or their property. This sounds simple, no? The 2 laws cover about everything, and you could say that anyone who breaks these laws would be doing evil.

In modern day United States Of America, the 2^nd law is broke many times each day. No, I’m not talking about, acts of violence by criminals, I’m talking about murder. Murder, you must agree with me is encroaching on another person. But I’m not talking about the kind of murder that a person can get tried for. I’m talking about legal murder, our justice system accepts it, even protects this type of cold-blooded murder. There are professionals in this area of murder, and they are proud to tell you what they do for a living. Every day they kill humans, real, thinking, and functioning people, with fingers, toes, and feelings.

These professional killers?

Abortion doctors.

This evil?

The killing of 100,000 of innocent children.

The unbelievable part is, they find no evil in it. They find not wrong in doing what a child from most primitive nation on earth could tell you is wrong. But some how, in today “advanced culture” it’s suddenly right. Black and white are mixed, and all you have is a muddled gray, where no one remembers that there was a black and a white. Morality becomes something derived from personnel preference. In this thought I am the final authority on everything, there is no higher law or law at all. The 2 basic laws are ignored. When it is legal to take life from a tiny precious child, for selfish reasons and it is legal, law no longer is a “divine”, there is no accountability, there is no right, wrong, or even a point to life. Life is cheap in a society where it is casually extinguished. Life, which is the center of everyone’s beings, yours mine, everyone’s, how can it be “right” to hold your own life in such high esteem as to assume there is no one higher, but at the same time, put down another’s life, just because they are weaker than you. This is truly evil.

I haven't done a "Me Lately" post in... forever.

I'm Excited About.... My new laptop. Okay, so it's new to me. It was Debi's and then somebody managed to break it. Debi got a (really nice) new one and David fixed the old one so it's now mine. A certain party that we won't mention by name thinks it's junkie, but it's mine, so I love it.

I've been Writing... Pure randomness. Since I have a wonderful laptop to write on I've had the writing bug. I started a story (if you can call a page and half a start) and we'll see where it goes. I've been wondering lately if I actually am I writer. Sometime "genius burns" as Jo March says it, but most of the time I only have a few embers. I have to write sometimes to get all the pictures in my head onto paper. I do admit last night I turned my light on at midnight to write a scene down, I couldn't sleep with it running through my head.

I've been Wearing... My totally awesome monkey sock/slippers. They're like slippers but feel like a really thick sock on your foot.Sorry, no picture, the batteries in the camera are dead.

I'm Reading... The sequel to Alcatraz vs. The Evil Librarians. I can't say anything for the sequel (I'm about 30 pages in) but the first book, I can honestly say, is the funniest book I have ever read (I would say Princess Bride being a close 2nd.) I think I like the Alcatraz books because they're very much my sense of humor. Completely random. I also can not honestly call it a "wholesome" or "Christian" book. It's fantasy so there is some stuff that might be considered "magical". (They explain it as advanced technology, so there's no real magic.) I picked it up at first because I'm a librarian and it looked amusing. If you want to read a book for pure amusement's sake read Alcatraz Vs. The Evil Librarians.

I'm Watching... The Andy Griffith Show. I always forget how much I love that show. Aunt Bee is so cute, so is Opie, Barney is hilarious, and Andy is Andy.

I've Been Thinking About... My Grandpa's birthday. He's turning 70 on Christmas Eve Day (I always thought that was weird... Christmas Eve Day, kind of an oxymoron.) I got him a really nice present that I think he'll like. Hopefully, because I'm not the best present-buyer.

My Plans for This Weekend Are... Babysit tonight, go to a sledding party tomorrow afternoon, write, sleep, read, maybe go to a move...

I'm Listening to... Days Of Elijah by Twila Paris.

What I want for Christmas... These Extremely Cute Shoes.

Randomness... I wore my checkered flannel PJs until after 10 today. I was wearing them under my overalls under my big DQ sweatshirt under my jacket. Can anyone say snow storm?

Quote of the Day... "A smile cost nothing but gives much. It takes but a moment, but the memory last forever."

I'm Wondering...How I'm supposed to post, listen to some music and sing along,write, chat with Erica and read a book and do some school at the same time. Also, why am I trying to do all that at the same time? (I admit, the school is getting the least attention.)

I'm Questioning... Whether people like to read my blog or just do it out of obligation, is it interesting and fun, or just a chore?

God is... Merciful.

Life is... Busy

Children are... Adorable.

I am... Me.

I've Been Published *dances*

To read my (published) review of Fireproof go here.

FREE ADVICE!!!

1.) If a person has a brother on a cross country team that person, while attending a meet, shouldn't enjoy his/her self so much that he/she doesn't think clearly.

2.) If this same person can not help but enjoy his/her self and commits #1 that same person should not eat the apple breakfast cake provided by the mom of said brother's teammate, no matter how delicious it looks. Bees will be attracted.

3.) If this person happens to adore said Mom's cooking and eats cake (Side Note: YUM!) therefore committing #2 and it is September, bees will be a problem. After the bees are swarming this person should not eat Nut Thins especially without examining the chip before putting it in he/she's mouth.

4.)If this person eats the Nut Thins, it's possible that one of the swarming bees might be sitting on chip, and will be put in said person's mouth.

5.) If, unfortunately, the bee is put in the mouth my advice is too spit the bee out as quickly as possible, before it can sting he/she.

6.) If he/she is unable to execute #5 fast enough, and he/she is stung on the lip, do not, I repeat, DO NOT start yelling incoherently "Mum a ba strounge ma und de wip!" Whilst holding lip due to excruciating pain. He/she will get laughed by brother's teammates.

7.) If he/she can't think clearly through the pain and does #6, bear it with as much dignity as possible. This dignity should not include holding a 6" by 6" cooling thing on the lip. Said teammates with laugh and tease more.

8.) If #6 and #7 are unavoidable he/she should try to laugh at he/she's self as a last resort.

9.) If all this is unavoidable, he/she has my sympathy.

10.) BTW if said lip swells over night and is a literal balloon on Sunday morning. He/she should tell story to friends to provide laughs.

Believe me, I know.