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!

That shiny bright stuff that flashes in a thunderstorm...

Yep, I totally forgot how to spell it, so I went for the alternative instead. What's your point? Hmm?

I feel like I've been harping on love lately, but it's kind of been intriguing me, so I'll continue to write on what intrigues me. Besides, harps sound lovely, right?

But then comes the strange position I find myself in, what's left to write? Not to say that I've already written everything I have to say about it, but rather that so much has been written about it already, what's left to say?

Next time I'm in a poetic muse I shall attempt a poem around the line "love does not force, and force does not yield." It was already in one of my others, but I'd like to expand on the idea.

Love hopes, it dreams, it supports and holds,
Love whispers and shouts, it makes cowards bold.
Love is strangely demure, it pursues without taking,
Strangely strong, the heart never stops breaking.

Bah, I'd better stop forcing it, before disaster happens.... Still, it's something to keep in mind.

But still, what a crazy phenomenon this love is.

I had someone tell me lately that humans invented God to give a name to that third voice in the head, the "conscience", that the voice being named "God" was just another one in the head.

I've been turning this idea over in my head ever since, chewing on it, if you will. It sounds like a very plausible theory, but being a Christ follower makes one or two things more difficult to reconcile with this than I can...  wow, no idea where that sentence was heading, sorry folks. Let's just say that I can't reconcile that idea with what actually happens in my head.

Elaboration! :)

For one, there are a lot more than three voices in my head. Maybe it's because I'm a writer & an actor, but I listen to a lot of characters in there, and I've never bothered to count how many there are, but there's a lot more than three. However, having heard that still small Voice a few times, I can say with assurance that there is something Different about that Voice.

Having spent a number of years trying to listen to God, and trying to shape myself to His will, I've learned a couple of things about distinguishing His Voice from the cacophony of others in my head. One of the more telling signs that it really is God talking & not just myself is that He's a lot more persistent. It sounds trivial, I know, but you others who try to hear Him may know, it can be hard to tell when He's the one talking sometimes! But unlike all the other voices, He doesn't go away if He wants me to do or say something. There were a couple of occasions where the Voice just wouldn't go away, so I found myself going & doing what It told me to just because He wouldn't shut up about it!

Another difference is the things this Voice says. All the other voices, be they characters or manifestations of my own will, are generally consistent with what I know myself to be like in personality & knowledge. But this Voice will urge me to do something I see no reason to do, or It may tell me to say things I would usually never say. If I do & say these things the results are usually amazing, though sometimes I don't get to see the result. If I don't, the mundane is generally left uninterrupted. But the thing here that triggers obedience to this particular Voice is when it tells me to do something so utterly out of my comfort zone, or so out of the ordinary. I would never come up with these ideas! Sometimes no one I know would. But there they are, spoken of by that Voice.

Sometimes it's annoying, I admit. Like when I'm faced with huge arguments against my God--something I've been training & preparing for the majority of my life. But instead  of reminding me of the arguments I know I've learned, this Voice wipes them all from my mind, and instead tells me "This isn't the time for that, just listen. No no, you heard me, just be quiet & listen." Then I get all confused and the Voice just smiles at me and says "you mean you don't trust Me by now? Come on, I'll tell you why, but this important, you need to hear this."

So yeah, I'm not positing this as any kind of elegant defense for Christianity, please don't confuse this for that. This is just what's been going through my head for a while, & consequently spilled out into type.

Do with it what you will.

One of those Days...

Yep, here I am again, typing away about nonsense... seriously living up to the title I picked for this blog... I'm never sure if that's a good thing or not, but I'm going to act like it is until someone proves differently... ;)


What do I usually write about here? I'll have to go back & check, because I'm having trouble remembering... I want to write, but I don't know what to write about. Heck, I can't even remember what I usually write about! Maybe it's time for that idea I had a while ago, yes, I think I'll try that...

Once upon a time, long long ago, in a place that is far, far away

There lived a small boy. Now when I say he was a small boy I do not mean that he was overly tiny, though he was rather short for his age--which was about 10. The boy was pale-skinned under his multitude of freckles, and had hair that was strawberry-blond. His nose was a little bit of a thing, and slightly turned up at the end. His mouth was very somber and not at all prone to smiling--though when he did the result was delightful.

His eyes, you ask? What about his eyes? Well now, they were a tad peculiar. They weren't really green, though they seemed so at times. They were not really blue, but they looked like it when the boy was happy. Nor were they completely grey, brown, purple, or any other really definable color. Grey would probably be the closest that describes their colour, but ... well, it simply doesn't fit. The boy's eyes were every color, and no color at all.

What is his name? What, haven't I told you yet? Oh goodness, how ridiculous of me! The boy's name was Tom. At least, that's what we will call him for the sake of sanity. You see, his full name was Thomason Patrick Julius Gerard Brodine Carlton. But we'll just call him Tom, if you don't mind.

Well, now that you know Tom, allow me to continue...

Next time, that is, because it's now time for me to go. :) Bye!

Good 'N Cold

That's what my Dr. Pepper is telling me right now... Not sure I want to follow its example...

So I read "Howl's Moving Castle" yesterday--it's by Diana Wynne Jones (absolutely amazing middle name, by the way, who came up with that one? Props to them!), and it was a really fun read! A friend of mine introduced it to me by way of showing the movie, and while the two are rather dissimilar neither is really ruined by the other, so that's all well & good. The friend said that I reminded him of Sophie, the protaganist in the story, & I understand why now. I think we would get along very well--though I doubt anyone else would be happy about it... :D But I wanted to comment briefly on something I think was really remarkable about this story: it is mostly about an old woman. Most sci-fi is about people in the prime of their life, or immortal people frozen in the prime of their life. In this story Sophie is bespelled by a witch to become a 90ish woman, and she remains that way for the majority of the story. It gave the whole thing a refreshing flavour, something new, and I rather enjoyed it. I think I'll try some more of Diana Wynne Jones... Especially since I have a library card again... :)

I hate it when this happens... I think of so many things that I want to write about, but I get here to my blog & sit down to actually write something & one of two things happens. 1. I completely forget everything I was excited about writing until it's time to leave or 2. I realize that if I actually put that into writing there are certain people that may read it that will most certainly not take it the way it's intended & it will come back to bite me hard. :P Today it's the former. Bah.

So I guess I'll write about something else. I've got a few minutes, so I can afford to just ramble for a bit until something comes to mind.

Oh wait! I remember!!

Yesterday I was told, again, that I think too much. I find this extremely ironic, mainly because the person who told me this yesterday & the other person who has told me this most often in life are two people who probably hate each other's guts & would despise the thought of agreeing about anything. Yet here they are, both telling me I think too much.

Well, maybe I do. But I would far rather be accused of that than be guilty of not thinking enough. In my estimation, over-analysis is a far lesser sin than that of thoughtlessness.

I heard a chapel speaker say once something to the effect of "if that comment went over your head, then perhaps it's not the comment's height you should worry about so much as the stature of your head." I laugh because it's true....

Sorry if this sounds bitter. It's one of those phrases that I've heard a lot in life, mostly yanking me back to earth when I go flying off into wonder at how a seemingly lifeless seed is transformed into a huge tree, or how the dance of the stars is mirrored by the swirling of an atom. I try to share my wonder & get in return "you think too much". I know yesterday's comment wasn't meant that way, but it brought back some... interesting... memories.

So yeah, think too much, do I? If only I knew how to type a raspberry... FIE upon thee!! :P

That's all for now. I'm off to think some more.