“My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such violent reaction against it? A man feels wet when he falls into water, because man is not a water animal: a fish would not feel wet. Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that then my argument against God collapsed too— for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my fancies. Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist—in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless— I found I was forced to assume that one part of reality—namely my idea of justice—was full of sense. Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be a word without meaning.”

—	C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Thoughts From Fireworks

I was laying on a blanket, sweating like a pig while having ash dumped on me while probably damaging my hearing by subjecting it to loud crashes and booms continuously. I was thinking about how I live in an awesome country where we celebrate by blowing things up and (because I’m a big patriotic sap) how proud I am to be an American.
As the booms vibrated in my chest and I had to squint my eyes because of the brightness of the Grand Finale I shouted to my friend “There’s nothing quite like being here!”
And it’s true.
You know how on July 5th all the newspapers will have a big front page picture of the fireworks display from the night before? The picture will be all smoky and not at all a true representation of the dazzling beauty.
Or even the night of the actual holiday they televise the display from D.C. of NYC for people who are too lazy to actually go outside and look up, and that’s not the same. Even the magic of television doesn’t even come close to making you feel like you’re there. It’s something in the tantalizing fear of explosions being set off right over your head that just doesn’t compute through electronic images.
I guess there’s just something special about a bunch of people sitting outside staring at the sky together late at night that’s magical and unique and can only really be experienced by viewing it first hand, nothing else will do.
While I was “Oooo!!” and “Ahhh!”-ing tonight I had the thought that people are a lot like firecrackers. In the grand expanse of time we are but a snap crackle and pop across the sky, we’re all different colors, and although some linger, we all fade after a time.
And just like pictures and video of firecrackers, only those watching us in person ever see our true beauty, only they will feel our heat and have their hearts moved by us.
We never see our true selves, only reflections, and yet we place so much importance in those weak and flawed reflections.

We will never know what it’s quite like, being there, watching our own self as we glow brighter than the sun.

Truth:

I really do like being alone. No, It’s not because I don’t like being with people, I love people. The reason I like being by myself is because when I’m with people I see my own weaknesses in them. When someone is rude to me I remember when I’ve been rude and I feel guilty, when someone does something stupid I remember all the stupid things I’ve done and my face burns with shame. Why did I do those things?
It’s not that I don’t like people, it’s that I just can’t stand my own shame. 

Whenever People Try to Tell Me That Homeschooling isn't "Real Education" I like to Introduce them to my Sister

• The sister who can conjugate Latin verbs.
• She also understands Shakespeare.
• She has most of the opera Les Miserables memorized.
• She can name all of the 44 U.S. Presidents.
• She can tell you the leaders of World War II from both sides, Axis and Allies.
• She can recognize classic paintings and tell you about the artist at a glance.
• She knows the capitols of all 50 U.S. States.

Oh and did I forget to mention: SHE JUST TURNED SIX YEARS OLD.

Ignorance is Bliss

Libraries are places of information, a place to find answers.

But take my word for it, sometimes at the library, ignorance is bliss.
Take for instants the grease stained cloth I found in the elevator shaft. The cloth shaped suspiciously like a pair of men’s boxers.
I honestly would rather not know where those came from.
Or the parents who left their two year old in the children’s department by herself and when she couldn’t find them and audibly panicked they didn’t come back for her. The child was crying for her father, and he ignored her, and believe me, he could hear her, the entire library could hear the fear in that child’s voice, and yet it fell on deaf ears as far as her parents were concerned. It was up to me to calm the little girl and take her to her parents who then barely acknowledge her existence, only to turn around and take her back over by me and leave her again.
I honestly do not want to know what that child’s home life is like. I have to remain ignorant about such things in order to continue loving my job.
I have to maintain my bliss.

No Fooling

It’s sadly amusing to think about what my plans for today, April 1st, 2012, were. I was going to make vanilla pudding and eat it out of a mayo jar in public. I was going to sneak into the library before opening and hide all the rubber bands and pens. I was going to hack my brother’s facebook account and change his relationship status.

Now I’m avoiding going to sleep because I don’t want to think about tomorrow.

I don’t want to think about wake up early and packing the bright pink outfit I’m wearing for the funeral because pink was my Aunt’s favorite color and we’re all wearing it to honor her.

I don’t want to think about the long silent car ride to my Grandparents.

I don’t want to think about standing in line and meeting all the people who’s lives my Aunt touched with her beauty and go-get-em attitude.

I don’t want to thing about sitting there and listening to my sisters play Amazing Grace while I try to remember that my Aunt is in a better place. I know that she is in a better place, and I know that even though that’s a good thing, that I’ll be regretting never getting to tell her how much I admired her and never getting to say good bye.

I don’t want to have to be reminded all day of how really fragile life is, that you can be healthy and young one day and gone the next.

I don’t want to watch my big strong Uncle cry.

I don’t want to watch tears running down my little sister’s face and not be able to ask her questions.

I don’t want to cry myself.

But all this is going to happen on a day when I had been planing on grossing people out by fake eating mayo. Tomorrow won’t be any type of joke. There won’t be any fooling around, although in the back of all of our minds I think we’re still hoping a little bit that someone will jump out and say “Hey no worries! She’s not really gone forever! April Fools!”

But that’s not going to happen, and that’s the cruelest joke of all.

The Hunger Games

I liked The Hunger Games movie. Like LOVED IT. Judge me all you want, but that's the truth. I've always loved the books, and did love them before they were popular and I really wanted to love the movie, and I was not disipointed. The characters were either as I imagined them, or close enough, the plot was very close to the book and the production value was AM-AZ-ING. You know what one of my favorite parts of The Hunger Games movie was? Katniss’s arena outfit. No, I’m not really the camo pants type, and I’m not huge into windbreaker jackets. But that’s just my point, nothing about her outfit was what you’d call “fashionable” or even “attractive” in fact, it wasn’t all that flattering on Jennifer Lawrence. Shockingly enough even she can’t look particularly good in a drawstring shapeless piece of plastic and baggy camos. And you know what? I LOVE THAT.

I’m sick of every single adventure or action moving requiring the lead female to strip down to a low tank top for most of the movie. I have to ask… WHY?!? That isn’t at all realistic, believe me, I’ve gone on hikes through the woods, the last thing you want to be swinging around is your own bare arms, has no one ever heard of POISON IVY?!? Apparently these characters would rather look “sexy” than actually wear sufficient clothing during their adventure.

Not Katniss Everdeen.

I realized after viewing the film that at no point during the actual Games did I ever become distracted by, or even really notice, Katniss’s clothing. Which is exactly what I believe Katniss (as a character) would have wanted. She’s all about practicality, she never wanted attention drawn to herself, and if it took wearing a plastic bag and pants the color of dead moss, she’d do it.

In a movie with a female protagonist this is a rarity. Yes, Katniss is beautiful, and somehow she gets two great guys to fall in love with her, despite her having the people skills of a turtle. But she never flaunts anything, she’d rather hide in the woods any day then show off her face, or her chest, or her anything. Because that’s not what Katniss is about. Exploiting Katniss’s body was never a point of the film or the books, and I love and support that.

I'll admit that the vast popularity of the books and movie is a little annoying to me. Most of time popularity is an automatic sign to me that I must dislike whatever it is, but with The Hunger Games I'm wondering if this popularity isn't all that bad, if maybe, just this once, it's teaching good things.

All I know is I’d rather let my daughter be a fan of a book and movie series that shows the consequences of violence with a strong female protagonist who wears a wind breaker, than a movie where a sullen teenage girl wearing a low-cut shirt falls in love with two shirtless guys.