31 December 2009

Moon Dance

"All that you touch
All that you see
All that you taste
All you feel
All that you love
All that you hate
All you distrust
All you save
All that you give
All that you deal
All that you buy
Beg, borrow or steal
All you create
All you destroy
All that you do
All that you say
All that you eat
Everyone you meet
All that you slight
Everyone you fight
All that is now
All that is gone
All that's to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon."
Eclipse, the Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd

I believe, in the most literal sense that I am a lunatic. Not mad. Not insane. Not crazy. No, I am a lunatic: affected by the moon.

Last night, I had the opportunity to walk in the dead of night. Nothing stirred as my companion and I made our solitary way on the streets. It was cold and cloudless. Wisps of fog drifted across cars, lawns, roads, houses, blanketing all in the oblivion of night. But above, the moon kept vigil over the sleeping neighborhoods. It hung in the sky, exactly as it has for thousands of years.

This was the moon that shone on Moses, on Alexander the Great, Aristotle, Plato and Socrates, on Cicero. It rejoiced with creation the night Emmanuel was born. It watched Caesar Augustus, Leonardo da Vinci, Christopher Columbus, Magellan, Shakespeare, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, E.A. Poe, Picasso, and so many others pass short existences on this planet we call home.

It has inspired dreamers and conquerors; it has guarded lovers and plotters; it has illuminated philosophers and astronomers. It is the direct connection between us and the past. We have all lived under its gaze, oblivious to the heritage it represents. From the dynasties of China to the monarchies of Africa and Europe to the democracies of today, the moon is the common denominator. Billions of people have looked upon it with wonder, awe, curiosity, and found inspiration. We are just the newest in the long line of lunatics.

If this legacy isn't overwhelming, you, my friend, are in sad shape. Frankly, the idea that the moon under which I have lived my life has seen billions of lives pass like dust fills me with awe.

Are you a lunatic? I am.


30 December 2009

[insert evil laughter here]

Yesterday, my extemporaneous club met with high hopes, lofty goals, and reams of paper to file. Yup, we were going to have a filing party if it killed us. And since it had been weeks since we'd met, everyone had many, many articles to file. Alas, our productive dreams were shattered. Alright, so we did end up filing all of those pesky articles, but on the way, we made many redundant unnecessary files (...sorry :P), had many instances of context fail, and generally tried to misinterpret everything being said to the most awkward degree. I blame it all on Calvin.

During the course of the afternoon, we discovered someone *coughcoughCalvincoughcough* had an affinity for the whole Honduras politics thing going on. We also discovered that we needed a file for 'weird people' such as the Salahis, Balloon Boy, and President Obama. Said file has now been christened the stupid people file.

Some of my favorite context fails (and wins):

"I'm in favor of the Chinese method of execution: a shot to the head. " "Ah, technology!!" <--- This being said by Jedi Gerbil, who had just found the technology folder laying about in the rubble.

It just occurred to me that the rest, taken out of context, sound completely wrong. So I shall stop there for the dignity of my extemp club.

Anways, there are five speakers in club: Jedi Gerbil, Barrelfighter, Calvin, Mrs. Incredible, and your humble narrator. We decided that since there are five exposed sides on the file box, each of us will decorate one side to our hearts content. But that wasn't enough. No, we'd write our own fictional biographies. And then someone (I forget who) decided to write another persons' biography.

Imagine my glee when I was assigned to write the fictional biography of Calvin, someone I know, literally, nothing about. Mwahahaha... This is going to be fun.

Now, if you'll excuse, I must dream up a nefarious past for my extemporaneous compatriot. ;)


29 December 2009


Alright. Apology. Yay! Yesterday, I posted about the song Stand Up, by Fireflight. And someone commented on it. That is not so unusual of itself, but the comment and the commenter were. It was a fairly innocuous post, saying only "hello" with about fourteen million ellipses after it. On closer inspection, however, each period linked to a different mature-content website. Yes, I have officially been spammed. The comment has since been deleted and the commenter blocked. For any of you who discovered it before I got to it, my apologies. It makes me deeply unhappy that someone decided to use my (personal) blog as a spreader of filth.


28 December 2009

Introductions All Around!!

Hi. I'd like you to meet my latest plot bunny. His name is Musical Monday. His one goal in life is to talk about a song or artist that I particularly like once a week, on Monday. Everyone friendly? Good. Let the party begin.

I love Pandora.  It's a free internet radio station that you can customize. For instance, if I put the song "Nemo" into it, it will create a radio station that only plays songs similar to Nemo. You can then add more songs and groom the station to your preference. Imagine my delight when my symphonic metal radio station gave my "Stand Up" by Fireflight.

Fireflight is a Christian band that often edges into the metal side of rock. I must admit, recently I've been rather disappointed with Christian music because of its stereotypical lyrics and (even worse) its low musical artistry. I was surprised by "Stand Up" as soon as I heard it. It states that it's alright to have darker emotions as a non/Christian, a sentiment which is not usually found in CCM.

 Stand Up, by Fireflight.
"Look at all the lonely hearts
Shivering out in the dark
Hiding from the truth
Cover up the proof
Demons that I've tried to hide
Imprison me in my own lies
And all that I can do is cover up the proof
Don't be afraid to...

Stand up!
Stand up if you're broken
Stand up!
Stand up if you feel ashamed
You are not alone when you hurt this way
Stand up!
Stand up if you need love
Stand up!
This is not judgment day
You don't have to hide
There's no need to run
Everything will be okay

Secrets got me torn apart
Trying to destroy my heart
But I can see the light
It's cutting through the night
Don't run away
(Don't run away)
Don't be afraid to...

You say You love me
That's all I'll ever need
If You say I'm good enough
That's good enough for me."

27 December 2009

[insert eyeroll here]

After much quiet contemplation, it has been determined that 'normal' compliments are boring.  I was re-reading my journal yesterday, and realized that the only ones I remember are the odd ones. Some of my favorites include:

"You're creepy cute. Like a girl from a Japanese horror film."

"You've got a face that could explode a thousand missiles." Thanks, I think.

"I love the way you talk. It's so squeaky!"

And finally, "Now I know why I keep you around: self-esteem." Glad to help, o my friend. ;)

Have you ever heard/received a weird compliment?


25 December 2009

Merry Christmas!

As I write this, cries of "Look! A Large Ham!" resound through the house. It is my own dear brother carrying on a time honored tradition of hamming up the holidays. It started a few days ago, and likely will continue for a few more. I was working on a heartwarming Christmas gift post for my friends, serenaded by such hammy comments, when my email reloaded and I found an email from my friend Cassandra. Inside was a heartwarming Christmas gift for her friends. Which happened to be the same thing I've been working on. Bother.

Being the rather contrary person I am, this new development made me seriously consider not publishing this. After all, I can pride myself on *not* following trends. But then I reminded myself: I've been working on this for a couple days, so I may just as well publish it. Therefore, I present my heartwarming Christmas gift post for my friends:

In alphabetical order:

Bracie - Some days at church, I wonder if I'm not related to you. Unbiological sisters, almost. I like the sound of that.Whether it's singing "Holding out for a Hero" at the top of our voices while cleaning the sanctuary, or giggling over some new source of hilarity, or having serious discussions about capital punishment, we always seem to jive. But probably what I appreciate most about you is that you're gentle, and a lady of quality. That's a hard trait to find these days. It makes you even more beautiful because of it. Outer beauty + Inner beauty = Bracie, a dear, kindred spirit.

Cassandra - It's been said that the eyes are the window to the soul. One look at your eyes, Cassandra, and anyone can tell you have your heart in the right place. Seriously. While we've only spent much time together in the past month since Thanksgiving (:P) , I have really appreciated earning your friendship. You have a sense of humor that is mild, but funny, and your smile is always rewarding. ;)

Dory - How do you describe a problem like my Dory? With lots of Monk, caffeine, and impromptu harp caterwauling. And by the way, the caterwauling does not refer to your talent on the beautiful instrument. . It's incredible what we've gone through - from non-percolating coffee to late night Monk marathons, to mouthing off in choir. To adults, you're a sweet, gentle, kind girl, but I - I know the real you. Yes, you're sweet, gentle, and kind, but you've also got a killer sense of humor, amazing musical talent, and a certain affinity for officers. And yes, you do look like a Celtic Shield Maiden. It's on the record now. ;) Live long and prosper, my friend.

Escapist -Every once in a while, we meet people with whom it is easy to relate. You are one of them. As Cassandra put it, quite aptly, you are a "brother in Christ."  You are witty, intelligent, considerate, and pretty awesome. Not to mention imaginative. :P It's easy to talk with you, though it sometimes ranges well into goth-talk. But hey, if you didn't have goth elements, you'd be a very different person indeed. I appreciate your friendship. Thank you.

Jedi Gerbil - I've known you for the last two feet. What has it been, seven years? You were the first homeschooler I ever knew, and that's a good thing. Your sense of humor is amazingly dry, and your wit flows with such panache it's astounding. I can still remember that time we talked about cold fusion for what - 45 minutes? - just to bore our eavesdroppers. While those fun discussions were, well, fun, our serious talks have never failed to show another, more thoughtful side to you. You're a great philosopher, diplomat, and more importantly, a friend. This year, let's practice being extroverts, neh?

Keilah - Let's face it: You're gorgeous - inside and out. I have to admit, you've been a role model for me. Whenever I talk to you, you inspire me with your heart for homemaking, be it cooking, looking after your little siblings, and generally being a Proverbs 31 woman. Your gentle wit and earnest heart are evident in any area you are found, even when cooking for a bunch of 'savages' at a Productive Fellowships. I hope to know you so much better this time next year, and I look forward to continuing our friendship.

Libby - Libby, let's redeem Converse together! You are a ton of fun to be around. From teaching me the basics of football from an opposing team, to wandering the halls of the CMS, we've had some interesting times together. And, of course, the obligatory raves about Chucks. You are ingenious, always coming up with clever, creative, and imaginative ideas and topics. And your paintings really are beautifully introspective.Your art is a true reflection of yourself: introspective, clever, brilliant, and beautiful. Rock on, Libby.

NtropyNcarnate - Bonkers. Batty. Brilliant. Beautiful. Oh, and amazing, alliterative, polyglottal and precious. Melon head, es lusus naturae. Whether you plot in study hall, or run up and down hallways chasing invisible aliens, or sit and translate the Grinchus, or watch Dark Musicals with me, I enjoy every minute of it. And those cookies? Nom nom nom... Your melodramatic, musical, and memorable musings on subjects from Latin horror movies to auto care and linguistics always make my day. And I'm thankful for every minute of our Latin classes, all five years of them.

Ophelia - How exactly does one approach describing Ophelia? There's a certain dash of whimsy, a certain dash of romanticism, and a large dash of fun involved. Cartwheeling at church, having snowball fights, and discussing the relative merits of various female singers, are all memories I've shared with you. You're beautiful, inside and out. You're fun, interesting, smart, and imaginative. I've so enjoyed getting to know you this year. It seems like I've known you forever.

Peach - Peach, you're amazing. You're creative, musical, funny, and pretty awesome to be around. From downing eggnog like whiskey to "Hi, I'm Awkward" conversations, we've had some interesting times. I enjoy how easy you are to talk too, as well as your wisdom. You're beautiful, inside and out. I hope I can see more of you this upcoming year.

Pipsqueak - Pipsqueak, my dear little Hobbit, you're hilarious.You really are. You're teasable, you're lovable, you're hang-out-able, and generally, personable. You're beautiful, Asian (Ow, don't kill me!), and very fun to be around. I love hanging out with you in Biology, and I can't wait for New Year's! Your beautiful personality and smile will be the first thing anyone notices, just asl long as you don't tell them about your love of German Shepherds, leather boots, jacket, and German. Whoops. No, no the pillow! Ouch!

Qwip - I remember when I first joined NCFCA, I saw you at a National Open, and I thought "Wow, that's one of the cool people." Little did I guess that three years later, I'd count you among my close friends. You really have a passion for the ludicrous, and that makes any interactions with you quite interesting. Actually, I really enjoy conversations with you because they can quite literally swing in any direction. You're interesting, clever, considerate, and entertaining (and handsome ;P). Take your pick as to which adjective you prefer.

Specs - Ah Specs, Specs, Specs. You, my friend, are an anamoly - in the best of ways, of course. I can quite honestly say that I know no other conservative, Christian actress who is perfectly at home in front of an audience and groups of hyperactive teenaged speakers. You're someone I've known forever, though that's only been five years. You're stunningly gorgeous, inside and out, and your dry sarcasm compliments your speech. Truly your speech is seasoned with salt. I'd even go so far as to say that you are "as shrewd as a serpent, and as gentle as a dove." Got to love that, right?

Unexpected Song - You're logical, beautiful, unique, well-read, and simply lovely. Whether you're owning the Apologetics event or discussing late night gal topics, you come off as a thoughtful individual. You always provide important and interesting insights, and I value your trust and friendship. It's such a pity we don't see each other often this year, and I look forward to spending time with you this upcoming year. May the light of Heaven shine on your path.

Maybe tomorrow I'll post about what my family did. But for tonight, that's all.



22 December 2009


On 31 October, Seattle policeman Timothy Brenton was killed while sitting in a police car, debriefing a trainee officer. The trainee, Britt Sweeney, escaped with minor wounds to her head and back. The suspected murderer is now in custody.

On 29 November, nearly a month after Timothy Brenton's death, four officers from Lakewood, WA, were targeted in an unrelated attack. Sergeant Mark Renninger, and Officers Ronald Owens, Tina Griswold, and Greg Richards all died at the scene. Only Officer Richards was able to respond, shooting gunman Maurice Clemmons in the stomach before dying. Maurice Clemmons is now dead.

And finally, 21 December, two Sheriff deputies responded to a domestic-violence call in Pierce County. Upon entering the house, a man in the upstairs opened fire on them. They responded, but received many wounds. The man who had let the officers in, and a teenage girl barricaded themselves in a room with the deputies, called 911, and started First Aid. One deputy is in critical condition; the other, stable. The killer is dead.

In a little under 60 days, five police officers have been killed, three wounded. These killings are so surprising, in part, because Washington has not been known for violence toward law enforcers. It's sickening. Please keep the officers and their families in your prayers.

21 December 2009

*big grin*

Haha! I was just told that I was as unpredictable as a bumblebee. It's most gratifying to know I've kept some of my pre-teen design features. =D

20 December 2009

100 posts, wow!

As the title would suggest, this is my 100th post. I seem to have reached the second 50 far faster than I reached the first. *toddles to check records* Indee-de-dee-de-dee-de-dee-dee-dee-do! It took me nine months to get to 50 posts, and two-point-five months to accumulate the second fifty. Wow. And no, I'm not sugar happy, I'm just thinking faster than you.

Actually, I wasn't planning on gloating about my *astonishing* post record. I can happily do that for you in the comments. I was going to tell you about a song. A very important. Or not. But I like it. A lot. So you should too. Maybe. Ish. I feel an odd tingling in my brain. The coffee's affecting me. But I like it.

.. Ahem.  Anyways, about six months ago, I rediscovered a Monty Python song. Specifically, I rediscovered "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."  For the few of you who haven't heard it, it's a very happy-go-lucky tune, even including whistling (!), with incredibly morbid lyrics. It's the best example of Lyrical Dissonance I've found in a while. The lyrics are so brilliant, it's hard to choose which verses to highlight...

Here. I think I may have found the best part.
"For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your scene - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of ****
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you."

Unfortunately, there's a mild obscenity in the last (posted) chorus. :( But certainly, this song has helped shake my melodramatic, self-important mood from the summer, because, let's face it, the best teaching song is one with a catchy tune and important/interesting lyrics. 

This song, I believe, is a very good way to celebrate my 100th post. 

B, who is singing about the bright side of life, and who really needs to step away from the coffee pot.


"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it seems as if they're here to stay... Oh, I believe in yesterday."

Actually, no... Wait. What am I talking about?

Yesterday, I discovered something: I have finally gained the teenagers' love of sleep. There have been countless articles, studies, and other various forms of adult-inflicted torture examining and explaining that teenagers sleep a lot because they need the sleep. However, for the first four years of my teenagish existence, I didn't really sleep any more than usual. However, since the day I turned 16, I have found myself craving the sweet touch of unconsciousness every night. Now, this may seem a weird discovery to make on a whim, so I shall explain why I finally realized this.

Yesterday morning, I was going to meet a couple friends from speech to discuss speech stuff. For this purpose, I rolled out of bed at 9:30 and trundled off to the meeting place by 10:30. Well, most of the party was there, but for the exception of lovely Lady Specs. She had had a drama rehearsal on Friday night, and her parents decided not to interfere in her sleep schedule yesterday morning. So it was that my companion and I received a call at 10:30 from Specs saying she'd "just woken up." We waited for a half hour, making un/succesful attempts at small talk, and during this interlude, I realized just how precious sleep was to me. I really do like it. So there.

After the speech meeting, which ran a half-hour late because it started a half-hour late, I toddled off to my friend NtropyNcarnate's house for some Latin translating "fun". Our text? "Quomodo Invidiosulus Nomine Grinchus Christi Natalem Abrogaverit." Yup. We got to translate "In what way our envious little friend named the Grinch stole the birth of Christ." The funny thing is that the Latin version is nothing like the original Dr. Seuss book. Well, it took Ntropy and I a full hour and a half to get through this creative Latin text - by "creative Latin" I mean giving five different nouns for "noise," and four different verbs for "sing". But after the long translating ordeal, we still had an hour for Christmas cookies!

I love decorating Christmas cookies. Just thought I'd say that. Anyways, we had quite good fun. Here's some of my favorite cookies we made:

This one was Megan's. His smile came out a little crooked, so he looks like he's sneering.

This is one of mine. I was trying for the teapot lady from Beauty and the Beast, but it kind of turned out looking like Jack from Halloween Town turned into a teapot. Or just a skullish teapot.

Also mine. *guilty*. I kind of thought he looked like whats-his-face from the Lion King. You know, the creepy monkey guy. Either that, or he's a juvenile criminal bear whose had his face censored and pixelated for privacy.

These are most of the cookies from when we were done. You can tell Ntropy's cookies because they look artistic. She did the snowman in the lower right corner; the angel  just below the center; the green and red candy cane; the tree and the bear near the green and red candy cane; the smiling bell in the top right corner, and a few others. Mine, however, are the angel of many colors, the brown candy cane on the right edge; as well as the flamey colored bell and the butterfly above the bell that looks more like a blob of red and purple sprinkles; and pretty much all of the ones that looked like a mad toddler's play station.

However, this one has to be my favorite one I made yesterday.

I am ashamed to say that I used tweezers to get this angel to resemble a vaguely humanoid thing.  Glory and wonder at its amazing goriness.

This was Ntropy's reaction to my bloody angel.  Of course, she was just in awe at my enormous creativity. She had a very funny idea of continuing the idea of gory cookies, but I have censored that part of this post for my more sensitive readers. *wink*

And then it was home for more and more schoolwork. This was accomplished with much yawning and longing for my deliciously warm, dim, room. Lovely. On the plus side, I did get a persuasive letter finished yesterday, which I might post tonight/tomorrow.


... Don't you just love long, boring posts about what I did yesterday? I do. :)

... And yes, I am in an exceptionally unusual state of mind. I just thought up another story thingymajig. 

18 December 2009


These past few weeks, I've had a couple imaginary friends following me around. They're not mine - I don't recognize them, or even know their names. But for lack of better monikers, I've called these two Snuffles and Chuckles.

If you've lost a badger with a penchant for melodrama or a psycho clown, please comment below. They are starting to get annoying. But they have been useful - don't get me wrong. I started a club for imaginary friends. If your imaginary friend would like to attend, please have them comment with name, species, and temperament below, and I'll have Snuffles contact them for the first meeting.


17 December 2009


 For today's post, I present you a short story I wrote recently about Peter Pan. If you have any comments on how the current ending could be improved, I'd greatly appreciate them.

When Luke woke up, he was in a clean, white place. He vaguely remembered being in a place like this. He had seen a little boy sleeping in a big bed, but he couldn’t remember when.  But this place wasn’t like the other. It was bright and cold, and Luke was alone. Luke shivered. There were no humming monsters; just cold, clean, white walls.
But then Peter came. He was dressed in green, red, yellow and orange leaves, like the ones in stories, and when he turned a somersault, Luke just knew it was Peter. He giggled at the other boy’s antics.
“Where are we, Peter?”
Peter cocked his head. “You’re right here. And I found you! Isn’t that clever?” He grimaced, and it wasn’t so cold anymore.
“But Peter, how did I get here?”
“Does it really matter? We’re going somewhere else now,” Peter said carelessly.
“Really, Peter? What is it like?” Luke moved closer, mouth open in anticipation. Peter grinned.
“Well, there are people and everyone’s happy and nobody is afraid. And it’s warm and bright, and it’s wonderful!” Peter started hopping on one foot. “Come on, let’s go!”
Luke tried imitating Peter, with little success. But before he could tumble off balance, Peter grabbed his hand, and they set off.
“Peter, tell me again!” Luke fairly danced.
As Peter expounded on their destination, the boys walked through many rooms of unchanging white. But now the rooms were replaced by a long hallway. Doors lined the walls, and in the dim lighting, they could see pictures hanging on each door. Looking back, Luke couldn’t tell which they had come through; he shivered, but Peter moved on. Trotting to keep up with the bigger boy, Luke glanced at the pictures on the wall.  They passed countless pictures, but certain ones captured Luke’s attention.
He tugged at Peter’s hand, who stopped for the younger boy. There on the wall, a beautiful woman and a smiling man looked at a fuzzy bundle held in the woman’s arms.  Luke stood, entranced, unable to look away. Peter gently moved Luke into motion, drawing him down the hall. They passed more pictures. Sometimes, the beautiful woman gazed down on the boys, and sometimes it was the smiling man. However, in all, a little boy with brown hair and green eyes chortled. There, in that one, he took his first step. Farther on, he used a tricycle. Over there, his father gives a piggy-back ride to an enthusiastic cowboy, and in another, a big black dog guards the sleeping child.
The tunnel grew dark, and intermittent lights shone on the pictures. Sometimes, the walls were dark for hundreds of paces. Peter passed them without comment, pausing only to bring Luke along when he gazed for too long. Finally, the lights went out, and only the sound of footsteps invaded the deathly quiet.
Peter felt the hand in his tremble, just slightly, and he broke into a little ditty, humming and skipping to distract his charge.
“Peter, I’m scared. Tell me again.” Luke’s clear voice broke the song. Peter glanced down, and then knelt beside the child.
“Hey Luke, you know a secret? I can do magic.” Luke’s eyes grew larger in the darkness. “Now, if you shut your eyes really tight and count to ten, a light will go on.”
Sure enough, when Luke opened his eyes, a pool of light gathered ahead, illuminating part of the wall.
Luke couldn’t get to the light quickly enough, but as he approached the edge of the puddle, he hesitated. On the wall were three photographs; no doors accompanied the pictures, and they waited, forlorn, for Luke to examine them. He looked back at Peter, who stepped into the light and nodded encouragingly. Luke cautiously approached the picture, but ran the final steps, eager to see the little boy again.
But this picture was different. A wrecked car, tumbled off the road, was barely visible in the swarm of flashing lights, and beacons lit the scene with a red glow. Cars whirred past as the little boy was wheeled into an ambulance. The smiling man stared into space, clutching the boy’s jacket in trembling hands. Firemen were dragging the beautiful, battered woman from the car, while medics readied a stretcher nearby. Luke took this in at once, and recoiled. He grabbed Peter’s hand, and tugged to go back into the darkness, willing to endure darkness rather than see the other pictures. Peter gently turned him around.
“Hey, Luke. It’s alright.” He grinned reassuringly at the small child, and whispered. “Only two others.”
Luke reluctantly turned to the second picture.
The green-eyed boy was sleeping on a bed much too big for him. His room was grey in the darkness, but Luke could see machines surrounding the bed. He touched the little boy’s face. It was half-covered by bandages, but Luke still recognized it.
Luke closed his eyes, and took a big breath. He sighed, and then looked at the picture. Little was different: The boy in the large bed still slept, but a sheet had been drawn over his head, and the lights glared down on the man and the woman. Luke’s green eyes widened as the picture began moving. A nurse entered. She started talking to the parents kneeling by the bed. They exited the room, and the nurse shut lights. Luke stared hard, and did not notice Peter step behind him, gazing at the little boy with an indescribable emotion.  As the lights in the little room shut off, the puddle of light in the hall disappeared, and the tunnel grew dark again.
Luke jumped. It suddenly was very cold. Two strong hands grabbed Luke’s shoulders. Luke could feel warmth and vitality leaking from those hands, and Peter’s voice spoke near his ear.
“Luke, we’re almost there.”
“Peter, I’m scared!” Luke’s voice trembled like a leaf.
“I know, Luke. But it’s an adventure. Now, see that light in front of you?” Sure enough, a pale glow filled the end of the hall in front of the boys. It was far away, but it was there.
“Luke, you need to walk toward that light. I’ll be behind you, but don’t turn around. You got that? I’ll be right behind you, but you mustn’t look.”
“Peter.” The little green-eyed boy pleaded with his voice. He shook.
“Shh, it’s alright. That light is the place I told you about. It’s warm and everyone’s happy there. Just like I told you.” Peter hugged Luke, wrapping him tightly in warmth. He straightened, and pushed Luke toward the light.
“Are you sure you can’t come with me, Peter?”
“No, but I’ll watch you. You won’t get lost.”
“Good bye, Peter.” Luke walked slowly toward the end of the hall, where he could see an open door, inviting him in. Quicker and quicker, his feet hit the ground. He could feel the warmth now, embracing him like a comforter. He broke into a run, pushing the door open, and disappeared inside.
Peter Pan watched as Luke entered the door, and then departed himself. Peter didn’t take many things seriously, but this was one of them. He’d been lost, once, many years ago, but no one had helped him find his way home. But Luke had found Never Neverland now, and for now, that was all that mattered.

14 December 2009

No Fear

Two weeks was Thanksgiving. I know, pretty obvious, but some of my friends have been known to live off-planet. (Woah, my odd mood has continued another day. Great. .-.) Anyways, we had a family from speech over to celebrate with us, which was tons of fun. Because all of the kids, not including mine own dear brother, were speechies, the evening's entertainment naturally turned to giving speeches. Specifically, impromptu speeches. Being the lazy and egotistical person I am, today's post is my modified impromptu speech from that night. Read it and weep. Or not. Shutting up now...

You may or may not know this, but I participate in a competitive speech and debate association. Now, every year, before the start of the competitive season, speakers must choose which topics to write on, and which pieces of literature to interpret. A few years ago, I was considering Socrates Meets Jesus by Peter Kreeft to interpret. In the book, Socrates, after drinking the cup of hemlock in Ancient Greece, wakes up in the library at Have It University, in Camp Rich, Massachusetts.  He confronts the modern god of Progress, and along the way, tackles the quote "We have nothing to fear but fear itself," the famous quote of Franklin D. Roosevelt.

On first glance, this quote is good rhetoric. It's inspiring, uplifting, challenging. It tells fearful humans to take control, get over their fears, suck it up and do something. It says that fear is our only enemy, that fear disables us, that it controls us. It's good rhetoric, plain and simple. It's also completely wrong.

I believe there are things to be afraid of. I believe there are issues important enough to spend nights worrying over them.  And I believe that the concept of fear is not one of them.  Try telling a new mother that she should not worry about her new infant catching SIDS, or that it will hurt itself terribly. Try telling her that she shouldn't fear for her child, that she should only fear the fear within. It's ridiculous! Care for others and concern for their well-being is one of the emotions that makes us uniquely human!

And don't get me started on the corollaries. We have nothing to love but love itself! We have nothing to hate but hate itself! We have nothing to care for but caring itself! I'm sure the young bride is happy to know that the love of her future husband is irrational. Are we to only hate hate, and nothing else? Can we not hate those who threaten our loved ones? How can we only care about the concept of concern? Fear, love, hate, care - these are all glorious gifts from God, who gave us the ability to feel. To experience. To emote.  But we cannot emote towards emotions. That destroys the whole purpose of emotions. Human emotions must be expressed toward specifics, or they become animalian. Humans have the gift of expressing exactly what we emote - we fear the man who brings death to children, we love the one who protects us, we care for those around us. But fearing fear, loving love, hating hate, helping help - emoting towards undefined, abstract emotions fetters us. In effect, it destroys our ability to sympathize, empathize, save, help, and protect others.And this cannot happen.

There are things to fear, just as there are things to love. There are people to revile, just as there are people to care for. But there is no justification for fearing an abstract emotion. And because I believe that our emotions are a glorious gift, I cannot agree with Franklin D. Roosevelt's empty rhetoric when he asserted that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."


I realized something a few days ago. Insincerity bothers me - not the people, at least, not really. It's the physical act of being insincere. This realization troubled me as well, because I realized that sometimes I come across as insincere. But I think I may have finally figured this out.

People lie every time they say something they don't mean. It may be something small, perhaps saying the dress looks marvelous when really it's hideous, or pretending to be a friend. It's a lie, plain and simple. Thinking one thing and saying/doing another is hypocrisy. But the hypocrisy isn't what bothers me. If I know someone is being insincere, I don't care that they've told a lie; I care that they deceived another.

Wait, wait, wait a second... Isn't telling a lie and deceiving someone the same thing? I would submit that they are two different things. When you tell a lie, people may or may not believe it. But deceiving another, masking ones' true intentions, is completely different. You've added yet another mask on top of the ones you already wear.

Yes, it's the deception that bothers me. Letting another person believe that you really are a nice person, that you care, that you're 'best friends forever', those actions affect more than just the insincere friend. Imagine what happens when the one being deceived finds out you don't really care; that you were a fair-weather "friend"; that you were just there for kicks and giggles. That's got to hurt.  It's not the lie that hurts, it's that the person would try to deceive.

The victim of insincerity may not even know what hit them. Suddenly, the best friend one could want sweeps into their lives, and it's lovely. It's the ones who really need sincerity, warmth, and friendship that are hurt by insincerity. The ones desperate for others to care who are wounded. And it's these emotionally needy people who are often the easiest to dupe of them all.

That's what bothers me: The deception. And what troubles me even more? That the capacity for such duplicity is inside every single one of us, and we don't even care.


12 December 2009

Problematic's Owners Guide and Maintenance Manual

Congratulations on your purchase of the SBM model from SBM&FRIENDS. There is a lifetime guarantee on all parts included, some restrictions apply.
NOTE: The following instructions are for trouble-shooting purposes only. Should anything happen not specified or hinted at in the owner’s manual, contact manufacturers IMMEDIATELY.

MANUFACTURERS: Rainy City Productions, WA



TYPE: Human (female)

PRODUCTION RUN: 9 September, 19XX


WEIGHT: Unspecified

INSTALLATION: Due to the fragile nature of SBM, a special package tracking system is used to update you to their arrival date. Two days before, carefully inspect your house. If there are items you wouldn’t wish a psychotic sociopath to get a hold of, be sure to store them away, as SBM can and will use them.

IDENTIFYING: When the package arrives, do not be alarmed if the contents have settled. This is to be expected. To help with introductions, we have provided a positive identification system.

SBM, upon arrival, will probably say “I’m not a sociopath. I’m an artist!”

If SBM is in her SYLVIA setting, she will say “I can’t trust you to do anything alright.”

NOTE: If SBM is in the SYLVIA setting upon arrival, do not upset her.

ACCESSORIES: All your SBM&FRIENDS come with general accessories, including but not limited to make up, hydrochloric acids, and notebooks. Specific models have special accessories.

1.    Large violin case and violin
2.    Messenger bag and writing materials
3.    Converse
4.    iPod
5.    Black cat (BUTTERCUP)
6.    Sabre
7.    Fencing boots
8.    3D Goggles

STORAGE: SBM will be fine with any accommodations you may find for her. Be certain it is not an area you mind changes to. Whatever requests she makes in the first three days are guaranteed harmless. After a few days of intense activity, SBM will have transformed her quarters into an artist’s niche. Do not disturb her during this process. When she is done, the room will be hazardous to outsiders over extended periods of time, so it is best just to leave well enough alone. If you should happen to glance inside, don’t be disturbed by the dark furnishings – it is simply SBM’s way of catalyzing her creative processes.

USER PREFERENCES: Your SBM comes with 4 interactive settings.

HOSTILE –  SBM will be caustically sarcastic and icy. Tirades and monologues or silence accompany. SBM will revert to HOSTILE when disturbed from an ARTSY setting.
FRIENDLY – Will smile and joke, depending on familiarity with near-by models.
MELANCHOLY – Standard setting. Expect wit, sarcasm, and disturbing and/or creepy aphorisms in this mode. SBM will produce most of her artwork in this setting.
PYSCHOTIC - SBM’s backup setting. Wild hilarity at nothing in particular is to be expected.

NOTE: SBM will revert to PYSCHOTIC if left in FRIENDLY for too long.
              SYLVIA – Rainy City Productions is not quite certain what this function does. It shows up in all SBM models, and seems to be accompanied by skinny jeans, haute couture, and an alternate ego.

UNIQUE SETTINGS: Due to the nature of her relationship with other SBM&FRIENDS models, SBM can be triggered into unique settings.

              ARSTY –   SBM can be forced into this mood by placing her in groups with KK, SPECS, and ASH models from the &FRIENDS expansion pack. SBM will oscillate between frantically talking, thinking, and creating. If no KK, SPECS, or ASH models are present, setting her iPod to the ‘soft’ playlist works with less effective results.
GREGARIOUS –  Any expansion model will put SBM into this setting. Tends to talk and smile more often.
AWESOME – SPECS, NTOPY, and THURS models or other models with similar dispositions will make SBM revert to this setting. Accompanied by much dancing to music and wishing for adventures.
                            WARNING:  Under no circumstances give SBM a weapon when she is on this setting. She is extremely dangerous. Rainy City Productions is not responsible for any damage done by such action.
TIRED – Any &FRIENDS model combination will change SBM is she stays around them for long, especially the QWIP model. This setting is particularly entertaining if SBM is TIRED in the midst of FRIENDLY members of the expansion pack.
DEPRESSED – If SBM stays in HOSTILE for long amounts of time, she will revert to DEPRESSED, or if the &FRIENDS expansion pack is suddenly removed. Owners should try to change her setting as quickly as possible.
                            NOTE: SBM will stay in this setting for long amounts of time after an ARTSY setting. This is normal, but try not to encourage her.

ROMANTIC – This setting has only been triggered once, on accident, and any attempts on the owner’s part to trigger ROMANTIC will be strongly denounced. Rainy City Productions is not responsible for any injury SBM may inflict on you after trying to change her setting to this.

OPERATING PROCEDURE: Your SBM has been programmed to fulfill many roles around the house. The roles she excels in are:


As you are soon to discover, SBM has an artistic streak. Give her the proper funds and equipment and she will transform your house into a haven. As long as you do nothing to seriously upset her, the result will be quite nice.


SBM is quite fond of sports such as soccer, track, and dancing. If you need an extra player, or are short a partner, she will be happy to help, provided no models decide to tackle her.


SBM has been certified through organizations as a babysitter complete with CPR and FIRST AID training. However, her odd sense of humor may make a more appropriate choice for older children. Rainy City Productions is not responsible for the counseling bills of any child left in her care.


While SBM is a very musical person, she views her music as deeply personal. She makes a great entertainer when she feels like it, but unless SBM volunteers to do so, any effort to make her play will be foiled.



SBM is perfectly capable of cleaning herself, though she may disappear for an hour at a time and emerge from her room wearing a completely different style. Fear not. This is only part of her continuing quest to define her style.

Once every few months, you will need to take SBM to a hair stylist, as she cannot drive.


FOOD – SBM is partially vegetarian, so be certain to provide her with plenty of fruits and proteins. She will need to take supplements in the form of vitamins and specialty foods.

              NOTE: SBM is particularly fond of Nutella.

SBM is made of 60% water, so allow healthy consumption of water and juices. Liberal amounts of caffeine are allowed when SBM needs an energy lift.

              WARNING: Whatever she may say, SBM should not have more than three (3) shots of espresso in one day. If you thought she was bad before the espresso, you have no desire to see her afterwards.


Q. Where can I purchase the &FRIENDS extension pack?

A. Go to http://problematicraining.blogspot.com to find the expansion pack to the SBM model. It will be published shortly.

Q.  My SBM is shaking all over. Is this a problem?

A. The SBM model likely has consumed too much caffeine on an empty stomach. Either that, or she is in a hilarious mood. She’ll get over it eventually.

Q. My SBM seems to be loosing skin a lot. What’s going on?

A. SBM was manufactured with unique skin. Don’t worry, just supply her with lots of Cortizone cream.

Q. My SBM is awkward and uncoordinated. What am I doing wrong?

A. You SBM is manufactured to be awkward and uncoordinated. No harm is done unless she breaks a bone.

Q. My SBM keeps hurting her feet. What’s up?

A. That is a selling point of the SBM model.


PROBLEM: You SBM is refusing to come out of her room.

SOLUTION: Stock many action/adventure, sci-fi and fantasy books, movies, and comics outside her room. She’ll snap out of it eventually.

PROBLEM: SBM keeps taking walks in the rain. She frequently returns shivering and wet, then catches a cold.

SOLUTION: Point SBM in the direction of the nearest park with a shelter. She’ll sit and journal for the hour she’s gone, and come back considerably drier.

PROBLEM: SBM has been singing ‘Holding Out For a Hero’ for days and will not stop.

SOLUTION: SBM is suffering from wanderlust. Supply her with a credit card and she’ll find an adventure for herself. SBM will return in a few days.

PROBLEM: SBM is talking in gibberish.

SOLUTION: SBM is probably talking in techno-babble, music-babble, or Zulph. Purchase a model with similar linguistic skills and she’ll return to normal.

PROBLEM: SBM keeps wearing oddly captioned t-shirts and converse.

SOLUTION: There is no solution. This quirk is part of what makes SBM a collectable model.


Due to SBM’s fickle nature, Rainy City Productions only offers a three year guarantee. Afterwards, SBM is likely to disappear, leaving only with the promise of “You’ll hear about me soon enough.”

NOTE: On the occasion that SBM does not disappear entirely, don’t try to contact her. SBM will contact you on her own time.


When SBM returns, she’ll have changed for the better, but SBM will still be the same model at heart. You will receive many years of friendship from this good investment.

10 December 2009


I do believe life is like an old-fashioned test tube. If you put the wrong combination of chemicals inside, or subject it to too many temperature oscillations, or even set it down funny, the shallow glass called sanity will break.

09 December 2009


I must say, the timing for today was exquisite. I was still in the throws of recklessness, wishing for an adventure, when one came to me.

Today, I went to Coop B to hang out at lunch. Things were perfectly normal, but as I walked Lady Specs to her class, we were suddenly transported through a time-vortex into a semi-dimension. We accidentally altered one part of this not-quite-alternate world, but when we found the vortex shift manipulator and pulled the psychic switch, we found nothing wrong with the world. However, when I went to find my faithful companion, NtropyNcarnate, I discovered that the alteration I had made in the semi-dimension had let the foul scum, Qwztlctoal, through into this universe. I could not find Ntropy anywhere, so I proceeded to scour the building for her, avoiding the aliens on my way.  The odd thing was, all the helpless humans could not see the Qwztlctoal at all, but they could see my duck-and-cover manovuers, leading to some hurried interviews as to "why I was being so juvenile".

Finally, I found Ntropy. She could see the devouring scourge of the universe, and agreed that something must be done before they devoured humanity. Already, students were disappearing into their magnificent gullets. And so, Ntropy and I swept through the building like avenging time travelers of doom, and saved the universe. All the thanks we got were the disapproving looks of unimaginative pre-teens, but I would do anything to save this unique race.


07 December 2009


So today, I had a doctor's appointment. As part of my routine visit, they threw in an experimental teen survey to 'accurately assess' their patients 'medical needs.'

As a matter of necessity, utterly invasive questions were asked. I find it a matter of pride that emoticons are going to be on my medical record. Mwhahaha!

06 December 2009


So, I was looking through the archives of my blog recently. *sniff* And then, *sniffle* I realized that a lot of the recent posts were *sob* about my emotions. Tell me *cry*, does this look like the face of an emotional person? =',[ *hiccup* I thought not.

... Ahem. Sorry about that. I wrote the beginning of this post very, very late at night, after a long day.

Yesterday, I hitched a ride with the marvelous Miss C.M to a Team Policy tournament on the other side of the drink. I ended up staying overnight at her house prior to the tournament, and I fear I may have *haha* given her a larger dose of Problematic humor than she really wanted. Sigh.

Anyways,  while I was there, I ran into Qwipster, which was unexpected to say the least. But the way it happened reminded me of something I was meaning to post a while ago. You see, I'm very, very jumpy. And I mean very jumpy. And this is is the issue I mean to blog about today.

Yesterday, I was minding my own business, listening to a conversation, when a weird voice said my name. I turned around to see a very creepy looking person in a Santa Hat, pulled over his eyes, grinning sadistically down at me. I jumped in less time than it took for you to read the explanation. This being Qwip we're talking about, he was not content to do it just once. So later that day, when he came to return my flowpad, he did again. I jumped, internally, again. grrr.

Why do people find so much amusement in making me jump? You may recall I went on a camping trip this summer when I broke my toe. Well, most of the kids on the trip found repeated pleasure in pretending to throw things at me just to watch me flinch.  Not too pleasant after the toe incident, because I almost always feel onto the foot that was *swollen to 1.5 times its usual size.*

Oh, and then there was last year's Regional Invitational. Jedi Gerbil and I were playing spie- um, conducting top secret research in the back hallways to realize stress when out of nowhere, another debater from our state walked in on us. He didn't see our hand guns, and only heard us laughing nervously. JG and I quickly walked away, but halfway down the hall, a voice *right behind my right shoulder* asked what was so funny. Yup, it was the debater. And yes, I did scream. And there might have been a bit of falling over from the shock. Now, this particular debater told another debater about how funny it was, and five minutes later, debater two did it to me. And there was screaming. :roll:

And going a few years back, I babysat for a woman's Bible study group. Being responsible for 23 squalling infants (and not-so-infants), I tended to lose track of the older six-year-olds, who tended to go into the back yard to play.  One day, as I innocently sat, reading a book to a little two-year, a big, hairy spider attacked me. I jumped, and almost lost control of the little one, who chortled sneeringly at me as I chased down the six year who had dropped the plastic spider from the top of the stairs.

And even farther back, I fulfilled part of my contract as an annoying little sister, and annoyed my own dear brother. I don't even remember what I did, but it was pretty good for the vengeance mine own dear brother enacted on me. I had just finished reading the Lord of the Rings, and we watched the Two Towers one evening (there was a 'read it, then watch it' rule). As I sleepily got into bed at 12:30 am, I failed to notice the lump hiding in my reading corner. Mom and Dad failed to notice it too. So when they finished praying with me, etc. they filed out and turned off the lights. I closed my eyes. I could feel sleep brushing against my consciousness. I could feel hands groping around me feet. HANDS??? I sat up, and a black figure perched on my footboard started crawling towards me, whispering "We wants to wrings her filthsy little neckses" and other dire threats. I screamed. Mom turned on the light, and revealed Thursday in the act of scaring his beloved little sister half to death. Good times.

So I've got a question for my *faithful* readers. What was the funniest time you've been scared, scared someone, or seen a scaring in the act?

I look forward to reading some stories.


02 December 2009


Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person. I'm old enough to know that a longer life isn't always a better one. In the end, you just get tired. Tired of the struggle. Tired of losing everyone that matters to you. Tired of watching everything turn to dust. If you live long enough, the only certainty left is that you end up alone. ~The Doctor, Dr. Who.

Recently, I've been wishing for my own private adventure. The yearning for stories to be true is too hard to bear sometimes. In fact, I can't tell you quite how it feels like. Imagine feeling like there's a hole inside, and knowing what will fill the hole, but being unable to do so. Or the sadness that the adventures you read about could never happen, or that there's no more room for exploration. It feels empty.

 Unfortunately, this yearning has put me in a rather odd state of mind. If you've had the misfortune of interacting with me in any way the past few days, I apologize.  I'll be depressed about the lack of adventures, Doctors, and heroes in the world for a while... Not necessarily in that order.


01 December 2009

Spare your two cents?

Last week, I got a hat. It's amazing, and I would go so far as to say it is one of my favorite hats so far. I call it my Mad Hatter's Hat. This is roughly what it looks like.

Anyways, I want to wear it somewhere. I just don't know where...  Suggestions?