I think; therefore, I am dangerous.

Speaking of thinking, I've been doing a lot of that lately. The process of trying to get my internal clock tweaked back into some semblance of ... well, as close to normalcy as I ever get... it's a process that has involved a lot of lying awake in bed trying to quiet my thoughts. In the process that whirlwind I call a mind has been visiting some very interesting topics lately. I get the idea that if only I could think on that level all the time I would soon have no troubles in life. But the mundane distracts and irritates, focus is lost, and life is more interesting.

It makes me think of story plots. Whenever someone uninitiated to the ways of storytelling watches a movie or reads a book & says "but wouldn't it have been simpler for so&so to do such&such instead?" Sure, but there would have been no story worth telling had they done so. Is it sad that I console myself about real life that way sometimes? Yeah, life would have been easier if I had done that or hadn't done this, but think of the great stories I would've missed out on living! :)

Am I a writer or what? :P Plotting: it's my life.

But anyhoo, I was speaking of sleepless nights and thoughtfilled silence (yes, I know thoughtfilled isn't a word, but thoughtful doesn't mean that anymore so :P).

One of the things I find myself doing at night is having conversations with people. I don't know how many people do this--I've heard everything from "oh yeah, I do that too, all the time!" to "you do what?! That's crazy!" So take your pick. But my inner dialogues often take the form of an imagined conversation between myself and an acquaintance--who exactly changes depending on the topic of conversation, but still. I try to have them answer as close to their personality as I can... sometimes that makes for interesting encounters with the person later, I've accidentally been very angry with a friend before because of how the imagined conversation went, only to have to remind myself when I met them later that such a conversation never actually happened, so I really shouldn't be angry at them.

Sometimes I wish I had the guts to have these conversations in reality, instead of just in my head. It's easy to speak my mind there--kind of hard not to, actually--but in reality? Psh, who knows what the person will actually say in response? It's ... terrifying, sometimes.

Wow I ramble a lot... I would apologize, but if you're reading this I suppose you already knew this & decided to read the blog anyway, hm? :)

I really don't like that word, "blog", it's so... it doesn't taste right. :P But this is ground I've already covered--onward! To knew & unexplored territory!

Have you ever considered how very dangerous it is to not think? We are told often how dangerous thinking can be--this is why when a totalitarian government--be it a group of people or a dictator--(I really like dashes, I never really thought about that before...:)takes over the first things to be brought under government control is the press and the arts. These things encourage people to think through things for themselves, and are dangerous to the new regime unless they feed the people thoughts that the government approves.

I think this may also be why the Church & the arts have had such a tumultuous past. Religion too is a threat to totalitarian governments, but not necessarily because it encourages independent thinking--more because it encourages loyalties to a different place than the government. But I digress, back to arts & Church.

Artists I've met & admired say they pursue truth, they seek to discover & present truth in whatever form they find it, that they may show it to any and all who wish to see it. As an artist that follows Christ I don't feel threatened by this because I think in terms of "all truth is God's truth". Even artists that do not know Him can reveal truths about His nature by their work, because everything that is actual truth comes from Him. So I believe.

If this is the case why has the Church felt so threatened by the arts in certain times in history?

I suppose, if we--and by "we" I include both artists & church-folk--were honest with ourselves in examining this, it could be thought that those periods of history when the arts--especially theatre--and the church were most at odds were a result of one (or both) of two things.

1. Artists ceased to seek truth and instead sought to shock, to push the envelope for the sake of merely pushing the envelope. They ceased to desire to be the ambassadors of truth to the masses, and instead wished only to serve themselves and their ambitions. This would lead to followers of truth rejecting what they had to say, because they no longer spoke truth--or is they did, the truth was not the focus of the work, but merely a tool with which to shock & horrify.

2. The church no longer desired to hear truth. Such times in history are frequent, unfortunately, and artists were not the only ones to suffer the wrath of the church at these times. Anyone who spoke truth contrary to the "acceptable truths" of the church and her leaders were subject to persecution. I wish it were otherwise, but if the Church today is to learn anything from the past it must be faced unflinchingly.

But I must leave off my ramblings here, my battery dieth & must go to find it an outlet. Happy thinking!

If you put on flip-flops you're saying, "Hope I don't get chased today!"

I don't actually wear flip-flops myself... I don't want to take the pain necessary to develop that callus between the two toes needed to wear them comfortably.

It's the day after Thanksgiving, does that mean it's the Christmas season yet? I can sing Christmas songs without getting yelled at now, right? :)

For those of you who actually went out shopping on Black Friday, you're crazy & I'll pray for you... ;) I confess, I was not one of the masses mobbing the shops today. I remained at home, where we didn't put up our Christmas tree yet. I'm not entirely sure why, I think the day just got away from us. Story of my life.

Hey guess what y'all--this blog now has (officially) THREE FOLLOWERS! That's right, shout out to the new follower, you are noticed & much loved! :) <3

I played cards today for the first time in a long while. Mum & Dad & I went over to my sister's again for dinner tonight (leftovers from yesterday remade into new wonderfulness), and my niece coaxed some of us into playing "Liar" (known to some as Bull-S@$*), but the mothers didn't like us calling each other liars, so we yelled "poppycock!" instead... :)

Which, incidentally, sounds a lot like what we had for dinner. Have you ever had poppakosh? I have no idea if that's how it's spelled, but my sister's friend (the chef tonight) said that it's spelled as it sounds, & that's how it sounded to me... It's a Polish dish, made from shredded turkey/chicken, and a dumplingesque noodle, with a reddish sauce that has sour cream in it--unless you're me or my dad, in which case it's just a reddish sauce. I found it rather bland, but still very palatable.

Also, my Mum amuses me a lot sometimes. She has this computer game she likes playing anytime she gets a spare moment with the laptop (theirs, not mine); it's called Zuma, perhaps you've heard of it? In any case, she plays it enough that she's taken to trying to beat her own high scores. After one level she was so proud of the score she got that she took a picture of the screen with her cell phone & had to show it to me later that day. I admit, she showed it to me & at first I said "what am I looking for?" Then she told me what it was & all I could do was shake my head at her.

I wanted to make a random comment about what people say about my generation & technology... but I appear to have reached that hour when typing becomes more difficult & thoughts cease to appear in word form. So, I think I'll sign off here.

Sweet dreams all!

CAREFUL: I use big words...

In case you haven't figured this out already, I've been using certain of my flair collection on Facebook to provide titles for these posts... original? Nope. But they can be very entertaining, & I think it's such a shame that my flair collection would simply go to waste otherwise. ;)

Today is/was Thanksgiving! Just in case you didn't catch that earlier, I thought you might appreciate being made aware.

It's interesting really. A whole day out of the year set aside to ... be thankful. To be grateful? But, why?

In the "National Thanksgiving Proclamation", as cited to George Washington & found at http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/National_Thanksgiving_Proclamation (that's right, I just cited a wiki, but it's okay because this isn't a scholarly work ;) the purpose of Thanksgiving is "a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness."

Awesome, yeah? A whole day set aside to give thanks & praise God for all the blessings He has & continues to give us as individuals, families, and a nation.

At least, that's what it was then. But what is it now?

I suppose for a follower of Christ, for those who acknowledge a higher power that blesses, it is a day to be thankful. But suppose the celebrator does not acknowledge a higher power in need of thanking? What then is being thanked on this holiday?

I suppose it could simply be an acknowledging of those blessings, regardless of the source, or perhaps independent of the source is a better phrasing... A day to sort of cultivate a "count your blessings" mentality, beneficial to the happy & prosperous living of everyday life... Maybe? That seems to make sense.

But I thank God.

For the family I live with, and live away from, and the love I bear them both.
For the friends near and far, and the multiplicity of ways I communicate with them.
For theatre, in all its forms, and the truth it strives to express.
For writing, in its many varied faces, and the freedom it brings my soul.
For my church families, in every place, and the kindred love we bear each other.
For the Church, "she may be a whore, but she's still my mother!" and I love her.
For painting, and the beauty in each brushstroke.
For music I make & that which I hear and the heartsong it gives voice to.
For health and youth, and that it won't last forever.
For Pumpkin pie, green bean casserole, cranberry fluff, and turkey.
For candles melting wax, and crayons that decorate green bottles.
For sleeping in a bed, under warm covers, with a teddy bear.
For heaters! Yay warmth!!
For the first snow... and that it didn't stick yet.
For shiny.
For laughter.
For tears.
For dreams.
For books.
For boots and trench coats.
For defenestration.
For spellcheck and that little red line under my words.
For freedom.
For liberty.
For grace.
For mercy.
For hope.

Most of all, for love. That's really what I couldn't do without, and it's what it all comes down to.

Thank you, Father-God, Lord of my heart, Love of my Life, Creator of every Good, and my Friend, for showing me this wild Love.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.

I just have to share something that made me laugh (silently) a lot today... 

Actual conversation I overheard between my niece & nephew (13 & 9 respectively, & yes, they're siblings):

Aiden: Oooow!! What'd you bite me for?!
Bailey: What are you talking about?
Aiden: YOU BIT ME!! Why'd you bite me?!
Bailey: 'Cause you sat on my face!
Aiden: You didn't have to bite me!


Sorry Aiden, I kinda have to side with Bailey on this one, sitting on a face is asking to get bit. :)


Also, I was going through some of the stuff I kept from playwrighting class, and stumbled upon a sort of "autobiography" we were asked to write. It was never graded, & it's a first draft, but it does save time on trying to fill in details later... :) Unfortunately it's a first draft, & I don't really care enough to edit something like this, so here it is in its roughest form. Have fun! :)

I was born on March 9, 1988 on a rather small military base in Stuttgart, West Germany. This birth began a life full of irony in multiple ways.  From the first snow to revenging my mother on an irritating doctor, my earliest infancy was filled with entertaining stories.

            “What, are you teething?” I asked my friend, Matt, as he sat nursing his jaw against a cold bottle of water.

            His girlfriend spoke for him, “Yes, poor guy!”

            I asked if it was his wisdom teeth and—true to the dynamic of my group of friends—this innocent phrase had the three of us in a completely different topic before I could blink.

            “You should write this bit about the wisdom teeth down!” Amanda said, returning to the topic that started the conversation.

            “Yeah, that would make a good bridge between past and present.”

            My time in Germany was very short. My family moved to Virginia when I was six months old, then spent another two years in Germany beginning when I was three. So I am afraid that I really cannot share anything from personal experience about German culture, all of my stories being from my interaction with the other military kids.

            “Are you okay?” Amanda laughed as I made a disgusted face.

            “Yeah,” I set my coffee cup down. “It was just the dregs.”

            The conversation drifted to coffee, then to chocolate, then off onto another seemingly random topic that was somehow connected to everything we had discussed. Finally, being typical college students, we found ourselves talking about classes.

            “There are two people in this class that aren’t in the other class, and two people in that class that aren’t in the first class,” Amanda explained.

            I laughed and said, “That sounds like all of my theatre classes!”

            Amanda told us about another of her English classes.  “I meant to write ‘Spring Break’, but he was talking about ducks and I ended up writing ‘Spring Duck’!”

            Matt turned to me. “You should write about the ducks,” he directed.

            “Write about the ducks that jump twenty feet out of the trees and bounce!”

            I laughed and bent over my notebook once more.

            When I was five years old, my father received orders for us to move stateside once more. So off my parents, sisters, and I went to Minnesota. We only stayed in Minnesota for a short time though, to say hello to my mother’s family. From there we progressed to New York State.

            I remember that I loved New York as a child, but my parents told me later that it was one of the less pleasant duty stations we lived at. Yet, for me, West Point, New York is where most of my early childhood memories formed.

            Matt and Amanda have gone now. Such is life for college students: socializing squeezed into the midst of classes, homework, and (for some) rehearsals—or vice versa, for some. I look around me at the other students in the coffee-shop and see that they, like me, all have a book, laptop, notebook, or all three held in front of them while they break their fast.

            I waved as my RA entered Sufficient Grounds, and she walked over to say hello. She’s a very easy person to talk to, especially because she makes a point to befriend the girls in her hall. Our conversation wandered from my finger and its recovery to Christmas Break. Then she said goodbye as she went to find her own table at which to study.

            We lived in two different houses in New York. Then my family bid farewell to the state entirely when we made the four-day move to New Mexico. I was eight when we began living in the desert, and ten when my father retired and we moved to Minnesota for another short layover. From there we went to Texas, a state I learned to call home. I made many friends there, and grew into a maturity that marks the passing of childhood for some, and the beginning of new knowledge for others. Yet, we could not stay, and in my freshman year of high school my family moved to Illinois.

            I never loved Illinois, and the feeling was mutual in most cases. So I was only too glad to come to Bethel College and begin life anew as a college student.

            Sitting by myself in this coffee-shop, I listen to the ambient sounds and reflect. My life has been short thus far, but full, and I have many stories I love to tell. This love for storytelling, combined with my love of writing and theatre has led me to enroll in a playwriting class this semester. Thinking of this class and others, I wonder what new stories the upcoming months will bring. This thought makes me smile as I don my coat and walk into the snow.

Anyways, yep. That's the post for today. Have a grand Thanksgiving all! :)

"And they lived happily ever after.".......................................114

Never put a sock in a toaster

Just in case you should be contemplating that, don't do it!

It strikes me that this whole act of "blogging" (I dislike that it is called that, it's such a ... well, the word itself is unimaginative & ugly. *sigh* Dumb English language...) is really rather amusing.

I was reading some of The Diary of Anne Frank today, and in one of her first entries she remarks on how unlikely it is that anyone will ever read--or be prone to want to read--what she has to write. Yet, years later, her diary has been published, translated into many other languages, adapted for screen & stage, and has a museum in her honor. People still speak of what she wrote (as I'm doing now), yet she never thought they would even be interested in what she has to say. A strange kind of occurrence, yeah?

How different is blogging from that? Instead of being quiet & unassuming, writing merely for the catharsis of it, every person that posts knows on some level that they post it online knowing--or hoping--that it will be read.

Is it possible to write for others and for one's own catharsis as well?

I sure hope so. :) If not I fear I've been wasting my time.

I've heard it said that to be a writer only one thing is necessary: to wake up in the morning and want nothing more than to write. I don't know how true this is, but it's what has kept me journaling for years, & part of what led to my blogging. It's what kept me scribbling away long after I thought "This is such rubbish, no one will ever want to read this!"

Being involved in theatre, I've heard more times than I can count "know your audience". I have to confess though, when I write I don't really do so for the audience. I do it for myself, for the unburdening of my soul to the page. Then if anyone wants to read it, well, some of it anyway, they can take whatever comes.

Even for writing plays, including that "commissioned" 10-minute that was the final for playwrighting class, I don't really think I wrote for an audience. I wrote knowing certain parameters must needs be met, and knowing certain people would read it, but that's not really the why of writing it.

Perhaps writing isn't even something done for enjoyment. Perhaps it is something done because it's what I was created to do. It is my reasonable act of worship, my living sacrifice, that part of myself that is an integral to being me as ... as my soul.

On a metaphysical level, would I still be myself if I did not write? Of course I would, I've gone days without writing before. But at some level there was still that yearning for putting words to the page. Perhaps that's it: would I still be myself if I did not want to write? I've never wanted to not want to write. I've never really considered the second order volition with regards to writing before. But I don't really remember there being a time when that desire, that itch, was not present.

Strange stuff, this blogging thingummy. It's almost like journaling, except I know with relative certainty that someone will be reading this soon. Yet, I'm almost as free with words here as I am when I know the thoughts I pen are for no other eyes than my own. Is this transparency? Or simply picking the right topic? I'll have to think about that one for a bit.

"For a dreamer, night's the only time of day."

Also: apparently "journaling" and "playwriting" are not real words, but "thingummy" is. Go figure.

"To Live, to Live will be a great Adventure" --Peter Pan

Cloudy, but warm--that's the kind of weather I can live with, & I love it! it's all gloomy, but comfortable, and mysterious.

After all, "Sad is happy, for deep people." :) Thank you Sally Sparrow.

It's Thanksgiving week! And I find myself with every evening this week left completely free of any scheduled activities. Actually, the only "scheduled" thing I have to do this week is dinner with the family on Thursday. I may go mad, we'll see. If I do, I'll keep you updated. ;)

But seriously, it's so crazy, not having anything scheduled to do. For the four years of my college career I had almost literally to plot out every hour because there was so much that needed to get done and so little time that was not already committed. Now there's no less that needs to get done, but no schedule that goes with it. Is this being an adult?

I was talking with a good friend about something like this, & how I feel like I'm failing at life because I can't manage to multi-task without a schedule--but I also fail and keeping a schedule. He gave me some advice that I've been chewing on ever since: "direct your show, and stage manage your life". I proceeded to tell him that the only way I'd managed to stage manage as well as I did had been because I'd scheduled even those rare hours in my day that weren't taken by classes, rehearsals, work, church, and other things. Then he told how wrong I was to think that was going to work anymore.

So my instincts were correct--scrap the schedule & work from a to-do list. I was also delighted to hear him call all those forms stage managers use "busy-work". I didn't even know half of them existed, & didn't have time to make them even if I'd known of them, & had felt very discouraged when they were shown to me. But it's okay now, because I didn't really need them anyway. :)

I guess we'll try something new this week. Well, not new, exactly, just a different method of doing the same thing. Wasn't it Einstein that said something to the effect of "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results." ?

Yep. Trying something new. Woot. :) & Going crazy, that should be fun too.

I keep stalling because I have that nagging feeling that says "you were going to write something else too", but I can't quite remember what it was... That seems to be happening a lot lately, I think I may suck at this whole blogger thing, but oh well. I haven't lost either follower yet... ;)

Well, on more thing, then if that idea hasn't returned by then I'll just go.

One of my haunts that has wifi is McDonald's. There's a corner table for two behind a pillar thing that provides a lovely illusion of privacy, and I try to take up as little space as possible when I'm there for interwebs instead of food or people. To follow the rules I get a Dr. Pepper & sit back there listening to music & using the interwebs until my battery dies (my one complaint is the lack of any electrical outlet in the accessible part of the building). Naturally, I don't want to bother others with my music, so I wear headphones/earbuds/whatever. But I usually wear them in such a fashion that I can still hear what's going on around me--the importance of situational awareness having been drummed into my head from a young age.

But apparently this presence of headphones offended one the older gentlemen, who grumbled to his friend something about "younger folks", "wifi or something", and "can't hear a thing through those earphones". I looked over at him, looked him in the eye, smiled & shook my head. He looked a bit startled, then I re-immersed myself in whatever I'd been reading.

Nope, whatever it was didn't show. Ah well, maybe next time I'll have the presence of mind to jot it down before it flits away.

"Hamlet: the original Emo." ................................116

"Death: the #1 killer in the USA... tell your friends" 117

So Lily the Felon's Daughter closed last night. It always seems like such a shame to me, so much work for 2 shows. Ah well.

Monty had a blue mustache. It was kind of hysterical. :) And no worries, nothing broke, and no one fell off the stage! I think it was our best show yet.

I just wish I could have fully appreciated the post-show "glow/high", whatever you want to call it. But I was... distracted... by some problems going on elsewhere that I was made aware of, but couldn't actually do anything about. For the sake of diplomacy, that's all I'm saying here, at least until I can speak to the people responsible & fix this.

Unfortunately that can't happen until tomorrow, and I keep getting wound up & angry over it. I had a bit of a meltdown this afternoon. Grrrbah. Mom & I talked about it, & we agreed that it would be best if I got over the angries today, so they won't interfere tomorrow. I tend to cry when I get angry, and that tends to make people stop seeing me as a rational adult & reduce me to the status of a 7-year-old. Darn my tear ducts! With knitting needles! ;)

But hey, Thanksgiving is this week! Woot! Church is having their feast tomorrow--and I do not use the term "feast" in jest, we really do serve it up in style--or at least in quantity! :D

Oh, & I found out that my being a writer may not be as much of a fluke as I formally thought it was... Apparently Dad was a bit of a writer once upon a time. :) I never would have guessed! Mom said her mum was too, but she only used her talent for scathing remarks to people... May that never be the sole use of my talents!

Today was my nephew's birthday party (one of them, it's tradition in my family for everyone to get at least three, usually with a different group each time), and we went to an arcadish place called "Jupiter's". It was fun... I mostly played Guitar Hero--I rock, by the way, Guitar Hero says so & it never lies. ;) It's so weird to think of the kid as being as old as he is, I remember--but I'm making myself feel older than I ought. Hehehe...

Well, my battery's dying, & I should skedaddle. Enjoy the cloudy days!

"Therapy is expensive. Popping bubblewrap is cheap. You choose."

"When life hands you lemons make grapejuice. Then sit back and watch the world wonder how you did it." 118

I hate it when this happens.

For the past day or two I've been without the blag-o-blag, mainly because the interwebs in my room decided to take a vacation. But I kept thinking of things to write about, funny anecdotes, jokes, interesting experiences--you know, the stuff one would normally write about if they write like me. But I get to the library, start up the lappy, and what comes to mind?

Nada.

But no fear, in the time it took to write that paragraph I've remembered some of what I wanted to write about. :)

Last night was opening night! We only broke three things... :)

First casualty: the curtain rod. For those who aren't familiar with the space, we're performing in a mansion, and the room chosen is this beautiful & huge hallway, separated from this conservatoryish area by a wall of glass-paned doors on the side that we're using for a backstage space. It's an alleyway setup, and for an entrance/exit a set of the doors was opened, a set of stairs installed, and a curtain hung from a curtain rod to mask the area. In his enthusiasm, our dear Monty was a little too vigorous in flinging open the curtains, and snapped that rod like a twig. The rest of the first act was passed by our director in holding the middle of the rod up with a long pole, and by actors in trying not to run into the director in our comings & goings. No worries though, it was fixed in intermission!

Second casualty: The desk. Well, the knob of the desk, really. There's a particular scene in which the villain sneaks in & steals the money from the desk (I hope I haven't ruined the show for you--the villain did it! Hahaha!). Well, he was a smidge too excited about it, because he ended up ripping the knob right off the drawer, and he had to open it from the sides instead.

Third casualty: the box. Same actor, same scene, moments after #2. His energy was still a bit too high, apparently, because after prying open the desk he took out the box from whence he was to lift the dough, and yanked the lid clear off its hinges. This made it a bit difficult for the heroine later when she was supposed to take the box out & be unaware of the money's disappearance...

Hopefully tonight we'll break legs instead of other things...

Oh! & I almost fell off the stage in my last scene. There's a bit of a gap between the stage and the wall... and I found it when I tried letting someone into the parlor... thankfully I found the wall as well though, so I wasn't casualty #4.

Yep. In other news: my nephew's birthday was also yesterday, & his party is tomorrow. Woot! :) I get to go too! :D
Also, tonight I'm leaving my SM in charge of Christmas Musical rehearsal. Hopefully by the time tonight is done everyone will have their lines memorized... or be at least a little more familiar with them.

Well, I hafta go get dinner & makeupped & all that. Ciao!

It was a nice idea...

That lovely scheduled plan I went to the trouble of thinking through for today?

Yeah, so it didn't happen. It kind of got rearranged.

A few times.

By noon.

:P

A well, the best laid plans of mice & men... If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans.
Forget plans, I think I like to-do lists better.

Well, dinner & rehearsal are still happening. So is writing probably.

I wish I were hanging out with friends tonight. I miss you all so much. <3

"Do what you love and you will find someone who loves the same thing. Don't look for love, beg for love, or suffer for love. Just live."

"Friends are like potatoes: if you eat them, they die."

119

Twice in one day! What's going on?!

Aaaah!

Hehehe... So I thought maybe if I post this I'd be more likely to actually follow through with it. You all have to hold me to this tomorrow list thingummy, 'kay? :)

Let's see... when to start the day...

We'll say 8am. Not too drastic, but plenty early enough. So I'll awake at 8, give myself 2 hours in which I am going to go through the arduous process of becoming a human being, then get into the real work of the day.

What have I got so far...
8am--wake up
8-10--transform into human being

The work of the day is mainly concerned with my room & assisting it in a metamorphasis from disaster incarnate to a clean living space with sealed windows & the ability to use a space heater. (Nothing like a lack of heat to motivate, yeah?) So how long does that last... I'll give it until 3pm.

8am--wake up
8-10--humanize self
10am-3pm (w/ 1hour lunch break)--cleaning

Then I need some solid interwebs time, so we'll say an hour for that...

8am--arise! Thou sluggard!
8-10--It's alive! I think... well, it's getting there.
10am-3pm (d'you think they know about second breakfasts?)--Scour the uncharted territories
3-4--Wifi time at the local of my choosing on the whim to be found then

Then there's actual scheduled stuff that happens, helping at church w/ dinner, getting ready for the show, rehearsal... Oh! I almost forgot, I have to find the Allerton House somewhere in there... Better allot an hour for that, I have a tendency to get lost easily...

8am--pry myself out of my coffin...
8-10--...with the assistance of coffee...
10am-2pm--do battle with mine enemies the riffraff of mine territories
2-3--locate Allerton House, go!
3-4--interwebs hunting!
4-6--help w/ church dinner
6-6:45--make ready for the evening's antics
6:45-7--in transit to the anticsness
7-9--Making a scene... or an act... or two. Yeah rehearsal!
9-10:30ish--familia ness
10:30-whenever--writing! :)

Of course, the last two might not happen, depending on if I find anything else to occupy my time with. But that's likely what will happen.

Maybe with a little self-imposed structure I'll actually be able to accomplish something tomorrow. I'll let you know then, regardless of the actual results!

... Of course, I'm kind of hoping they'll be good ones... :) I do get irritated when I don't get anything done.

"Not all who wander are lost" ~J.R.R. Tolkien.... .....................120 :)

Tiny Marshmallows

One of my favorite ways to stay warm: Hot chocolate, with just a dash of instant coffee for flavoring, & a mound of marshmallows on top. Yay marshmallows!

SO let's see, what's new... hmm....

It's show-week for the MTA's Lily the Felon's Daughter, and wife, and niece, and would-be girlfriend... hehehe... everyone in that family ends up being a felon by the end... Okay, maybe not technically, but almost!

So yeah, show-week, and I'm not going to make it to the rehearsal for The Present is the Future--the kids' Christmas musical--on Friday, because I'll be performing. It'll be fine though, I'm leaving my fantastic Stage Manager in charge, and she'll be grand. :)

Also, reading a new book! God is Great, God is Good: Why Believing in God is Reasonable and Responsible by Chad V. Meister (my philosophy prof. at Bethel) and William Lane Craig--edited and partially written by them, actually. It's actually a compilation of essays by various leading thinkers in cosmology, astrophysics, biology, theology, and philosophy--all written in response to the New Atheism movement and its leaders. So far it's very interesting, but I plan to read more from both sides before drawing conclusions.

Hmmm...

I feel like I should be writing something, but I'm not sure what that something is... So many possibilities, so many ideas, so little structure...

The things I shouldbe doing right now are staring me full in the face... the problem? I don't want to do them. I want to do other things... like write. But writing isn't on my list of things I should be doing, so I don't actually write (well, okay, I write here... does that count?), I just think about writing & am distracted from doing what I should be doing... Whew, vicious circle, hm?

Either way, nothing's getting done.

What I need is structure, a schedule, even if it can't be routine. A time for everything, and everything in its time...

Tonight, after rehearsal, I'm scheduling every minute of tomorrow. Maybe that will help. I'll let you know tomorrow how well I kept it... ;)

I feel like lots of time tomorrow will be cleaning... my room is a disaster area! And writing, I want to write, I miss it!

Maybe tomorrow will also include going somewhere with a reliable wifi connection, instead of the spottiness I get in my room if I sit in a certain place holding my laptop just right. :P

Well, I think that's all for now. Maybe I'll be able to post this today... if the wireless let's me back on.

"Be a Fruit Loop in a world full of Cheerios"

Two Followers!! :)

Huzzah! There are two people officially "following" my blog now! :)

So here I am in Indiana, visiting my alma mater (it still feels weird calling Bethel that...) & all the people here. The occasion of the visit was the phenomenal show I saw last night. And it was truly amazing!

I love theatre, especially the kind done simply for the sake of improving one's own ability to create truly good art. And last night's production was amazing. The first act, a show called Second Chance, was directed by my friend Veronica (the first show performed as a part of the regular season having been directed by a student @ Bethel College!). It was a portrayal of two friends, ages 63 & 68, and their interactions of a particular evening. The actresses, mind you, were both 19. Every one did a grand job though, the acting was very believable, the director remained true to the story (I was very proud of her in that she tried to reign in her comedic tendencies & go instead for true-to-life), the design was simple, but effective. And the story left me thinking, and I will likely be chewing on the themes for some time to come! :)

The second act was Zoo Story, written by Edward Albee & directed by Derrick. Again, everything from the writing, the acting, the directing, to the designs and operating were done very well. I will be thinking about this one for a while as well. The whole story left me deep in thought & I was held in thrall for the whole show.
~~~~~~
'Kay, sorry all, I didn't actually get to publish that before I left Indiana... I was a bit busy. ;)

But to continue, I confess, the show was really fantastic, but it was only part of the reason for going to visit Indiana. The people were really the main attraction! And it was so very wonderful, getting to see friends again. It was... more refreshing than I know how to say.

It was rather interesting to examine a couple of things about my friendships while there... Different people interact so differently sometimes, especially when there's deep affection present. I would die for any one of the people I saw while up there, but no two people are the same--nor is the way I show love to them. I suppose that my new-found "obsession" with this subject has kind of heightened my awareness of its manifestations around me. It was kind of funny, noticing such things.

Love is a poke in the arm,
It's a mischievous grin shot in your general direction, letting you know that something has been done,
It's taking your phone.
Love is a hug between friends that makes the rest of the room fade away,
And it's the rest of the room laughing at how funny and cute that hug is.
Love is a grandpa quietly slipping an envelope of money into your hand and not taking no for an answer,
It's dinner every Sunday afternoon without fail,
And a special bowl of potatoes, set aside.
Love is dinner paid for by friends
Twice,
And an uneaten peanut-butter and jelly sandwich on the passenger seat.
Love is driving four hours to see a show,
and staying to see the director.
Love is talking over dinner,
And laughing over nothing, anything, and everything.
Love is a sympathetic arm around a shoulder,
A shoulder to cry to,
And a box of tissues, placed before it was known they'd be needed.
Love is a walk in the rain,
Not going anywhere,
But just glad for the person walking next to you.
Love is creeping in to bed at 4am
And finding a place to snuggle between two friends who are camping out on the floor with you.
Love is a dance,
And it's one with two index fingers pointed at the ceiling.
Love is scream,
And getting bowled over by a friend who's happy to see you.
Love is watching someone practice their first kiss,
And not laughing at them--but waiting to laugh with them,
And telling them about your own.
Love is a brother,
And when he hugs me I come up to his armpit.
Love is waving a hand in the face,
And punching in the arm.
Love is watching them walk away,
And smiling because I understand why they do,
And it's so very adorable.
Love is an apology
For an offense that had been forgotten already.
Love is a two-minute car ride,
Taken just to catch up on life in general,
And to be in each others company.
Love is chatting about nothing in particular,
But merely being glad to be in the same room while it's happening.
Love is a sympathetic ear,
A warm smile,
And a delighted laugh.
Love is going to church on less sleep than should have happened,
And staying awake the whole time.
Love is sitting on the back row,
Because of who else is sitting there,
And getting just a little distracted from the sermon.
Love is a look,
That says more than words could ever dream of expressing,
And speaks to a place far closer in the heart.
Love is beautiful.

So yeah, that was my trip. :)

Post Number 31! Woot!!

So, life is delightfully sunshiny today. :)

It might help that the weather is warm enough for me to be comfortable in a t-shirt...
And my car is fixed & back & drivable...
And I'm going to see a show this Saturday... hehehe... :)

You know you love theatre when you're willing to drive 4 hours to see a couple of one acts... ;)

Okay, so it might be a little more than the show that's pulling me. Maybe. Possibly.

Did you know that November has another name amongst the writing community? It's also called NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. The idea is that writers across the country (continent? world? idk) spend this one particular month dedicated to "pull[ing] that novel outta that sock drawer!" ("Title of Show" anyone?). The goal is to write 175 pages/50,000 words between November 1 & November 30. No editing allowed! Otherwise no writing happens, or not enough anyway.

The problem is that I remembered about it on the 8th... already a whole week behind!

And I still haven't started...

But hey, nothing ventured nothing gained! Let the noveling (that sounds slightly dirty... :\ sorry!) commence!

Also, something else might get in the way...

I sense a research paper brewing.

Do you realize the injustice of this? I thought my days of research papering were behind me!! I'm graduated, shouldn't I at least make it to a master's program before I start on that again?

Ah well, I'm actually getting the idea I'll enjoy this. I could just stop at researching the topic, and be content with just knowing the info... but where's the fun in that? I feel like I have to document the research I do... is that a symptom of having been in school for all my life? Does that impulse ever go away?

Oh right, the topic is New Atheism. Right now the book I've read is the one I spoke of earlier by Hitchins, but I'm still digging through that one & taking notes. There's a whole host of others I found on the subject... but still need to get my hands on.

As soon as I get any moneys, I'm off to B&N. Maybe I'll put them on my Christmas list... hehehe... I can see it now, asking my sisters for a copy of The God Delusion, that wouldn't raise any eyebrows... ;)

If I do write a paper, or a novel, or both, look forward to some excerpts being posted. In the meantime though, I ought to go home & file some of those loose papers... there's some info in there I need for a job application & I've been avoiding the task. Time to get off my bum & go do it.

Ta ta! :)

Frog!

At least, so says one of my stray socks... I really ought to put that away... hm...

It's been an interesting weekend. I can't really quite say why it's been interesting, but it has. I find myself filling with a kind of quiet desperation. Life cannot continue on the course it's been taking--something will snap if it does, and I don't really want to wait around to find out what that something is going to be.

In other news: I found a wi-fi hotspot in my room! Huzzah! There's no real telling how long it will remain accessible, & I can only access it by sitting in a certain chair in a certain way in a certain spot in the room, but that's a lot easier than running to the library. Especially since the library isn't open at this hour. And since my car is still out of commission.

Yeah, it was the bearing on the left front wheel. Those of you reading this that pray, please pray for my car!

Also, the yard sale is over & done with, & nobody died! Huzzah! Yes, there was actually some doubt that would be the outcome at a couple of tense moments before the end drew nigh, but fear not! All are alive & sound! Well, mostly... ;)

I read White Fang and The Call of the Wild today, and noticed something for the first time. Did you know that Jack London was very much influenced in his writing by Nietzsche? I didn't either, until reading them this last time. I finally made the connection after reading something else by London in a philosophy class about "Nietzsche & the Novelist", and only today made the connection between that book & the Jack London that wrote White Fang... I'm a little slow sometimes, I admit it. But still, it's an intriguing thought...

I find myself at a slight loss for words at the moment, but I'm trying to write something--anything. My Mum, in one of her well-meaning lectures, told me that discipline (especially in writing) was something I am very lacking in. Since that was one of the original purposes in creating this blog, I figured I should apply myself more, yeah?

'Course, now I run into the problem at hand: What do I write about when all that fills my mind is a dull buzzing noise?

Apparently I write about not being able to write & other rambling stories. Well, why not. At least I'm writing something. Perhaps with practice I'll be able to come up with something more... interesting. In the meantime, "dear readers", I'm sorry for the drivel you have to endure. Props to you!

Maybe I'll start posting some of those writing exercises I've read... hmm...

But not tonight. Sweet dreams, all!

Sad Day :(

Alas! My poor Liffey Fairfarren (my car) had to be taken to the car doctors this morning. Note: she had to be taken, as in not driven, but towed. Her left front tire started screaming at me, so Dad & I took her in today & anxiously await the diagnosis & treatment on Monday.

Okay, so I'm a little attached to my vehicle, deal with it.

Then there's the yard-sale... oh boy. I love my family, I really really do. Honest! But sometimes... ah well. 

It's turning into one of those weekends. Sometimes I wish...

Half finished sentences, half whispered dreams,
Barely daring to finish the thought.
Some tiny part of me sometimes seems
Terrified of not being caught.

A song has been running through my head lately that seems rather apt for the feeling at hand, & I'd like to share some lyrics:

"If you're going through hell,
Keep on going, don't slow down
If you're scared don't show it.
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there.

If you're going through hell
Keep on moving, face that fire
Walk right through it
You might get out before the devil even knows you're there."
~Rodney Atkins, "If You're Going Through Hell"

So yeah. That's where today is for now. Hasta.

Slightly serious... ish... maybe... ?

Oops, sorry all, that one got away from me too early & shall have to be attempted again later. Sorry about the fake-out!

Who feels like rambling?

I do! I do! :)

Do I really have anything to say? Well, no I suppose I don't. But then again, that's never really stopped me before, has it now? :P

D'you ever have one of those days when you feel tense, just waiting for something to happen? Like you know something is going to happen, you're just not terribly sure what it is, or when it's going to happen, but there's an air of waiting all around you?

Today's not one of those days.

It's just another day. I know, no day is ordinary, it's only the way you live within it that is ordinary or not. But today really feels like it's a dampener on anything extraordinary happening in my life.

And it's election day, go figure. Shows how much I care about politics, hm?

Maybe I should go wreak havoc in protest.

I rediscovered a series I used to read when I was little, I think they gave me the inspiration for what I want to be like when I get older. "Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle" is the name of the series, written by Betty MacDonald. They were written in the 1950s, but are still surprisingly relevant. I would recommend them to anyone, and highly!

Hm, I think I'll tell a bit more about Tom now, if you're not interested you can stop reading here.

Let's see, I told you all about Tom, but I didn't say where he lived. He lived with his grandfather in the middle of a large city. Well, not right in the middle, but definitely not on the outskirts. They lived in a flat in one of the not-so-run-down parts of the city, and there was a theatre just down the street. In this place Tom grew to be very clever, but also very quiet. He learned to keep his mouth shut & his ears open, and in this manner learned far more about life and people than any boy of his age is ever expected to know. I suspect that his grandfather knew precisely how much Tom had learned, but the old man never called attention to it.

Well, now my battery really is dying, so I'll bid adieu for now.

"That Might be the Death of Me"

So I've been reading a book lately that has had my mind in a turmoil: "god is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything" by Christopher Hitchins.

DISCLAIMER: I'm on chapter 10 of 19, & this is only the first read, anything I write at this point is first-blush impression only. :)

Hitchins raises many fascinating and valid points, and has challenged me to delve further into the research that has been laying all too dormant of late. However, I find his style of writing to be... rather irritating.

First, let me confess. Part of my irritation may be due to the comment on one of my favorite authors of all time & someone I consider a mentor to my writing, C. S. Lewis. Pg. 7 states "some religious apology... is dreary and absurd--here one cannot avoid naming C. S. Lewis." So, I may be biased. I shall try to remember this & give the benefit of the doubt. No one likes having their heroes called absurd, even in less blatant terms than that. But I'll get over it. ;)

All the same, it was rather disconcerting to realize while I was reading today that part of my discomfort was due to the not-so-subtle message Hitchins has been sending that anyone who still believes in God is ignorant & unintelligent. Not that Christian's haven't been just as guilty of this transgression as Hitchins, but I don't really respect them either. If a writer of philosophy wants my respect, persuade me without insulting me. Apparently Hitchins doesn't consider this method worthwhile, which is regrettable. I would find his arguments far easier to focus on if I wasn't constantly made aware of the fact that he considers myself to be a backwards non-intellect.

But, before I write more on this, more reading is necessary. I dislike making hasty judgments, so I'll stop here.

In other news: my dog looks like she's been gnawed on by rats--at least, as far as her coat of fur goes. My folks took the scissors to her on Saturday & cut off all her mattes--which left very little. While I was at school no one seemed to think of brushing the poor thing, & there was no point to me doing so once I got back--the damage was already done. But now we're starting again!

Poor dog. :)

Also, who's looking forward to no more political ads!! Me! :) Happy election, all!