Sob!

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.

B

*sigh*

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.

B

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?

Good advice

Today, I had an amazing realization: There's advice on the drawstrings of my favorite sweatpants! Not only that, but it's pretty good advice at that.

How did I find this out? Well, being the immensely stereotypical homeschooler, I happened to be wearing these sweatpants during my violin practice today.  And I noticed their advice. I fully intend to follow it from now on.

1. Color outside the lines
2. Let yourself daydream
3. Agree with your imagination (Wait... what? nvm)
4. Laugh at the rules.

Thank you, I think I'll do that. And maybe the advice will show up in the next installment of my rules of living.

B

I'm it!

It's the awkward tag! 

1-Have you been asked out: Yeah, unfortunately. He was quickly sent packing.
2-Whats your middle name:  Suzanne Christiana
3-Your current relationship: Single and accounted for. In other words, buzz off.
4-What's the first thing you do when you wake up from a nap: Write down any dreams I remember
5-What is you current mood: apathetic
6-What color shirt are you wearing: Dark blue button-down with a comfortable brown sweatshirt
7-Missing something: Yeah, Ignatius
8-Current favorite quote:  "He who battles with monsters must take care lest he become a monster" - Nietszche.
9-If you could go back in time and change something what would it be: Change something? Why do that? I'd go back to the 1800s and stay there!
10-If you must be an animal for one day what would it be: I really don't care... Probably a kiwi because I've been compared to one. Or a cat. I'd make a good psycho cat. Or a koala... I could sleep all day!
11-Ever had a near death experience: Check out "Too Young", a recent post of mine
12-Something you do a lot: Play violin, procrastinate, do speech and debate stuff.
13-The song stuck in you head: Danse Macabre
14-Least favorite household chore: Vacuuming
15-Name someone with the same Birthday as you: Miss Melissa P***e, and Miss Lizzy G*****h
16-When was the last time you cried: My, my, you're inquisitive. Recently... Last week?
17-Have you ever sung in front of a large audience: Yup. Due to the extreme tenderness of my youth, I enjoyed every minute of it.
18-If you could have one super power what would it be: Invisibility. I'd totally fake my own death and see who attended the funeral. Yes, interrogator, I am lame. I know it.
19-Whats the first thing you notice about the opposite gender: What their chin looks like. This is because my eyes are at the level of the guy's chin usually.
20-What do you usually order from Starbucks: Grande Five-Pump No Water Fat Free Chai Tea Latte. Unless I'm really in need of caffeine, in which case it's a Grande Six-Pump No Water Fat Free Chai Tea latte. Or a shot of espresso
21:Whats your biggest secret: Sorry, I'm not falling for that. A lesser secret is that when a guy asks me if I'm single, I tell them I've got a boyfriend, and his name is Ignatius Martin. What I don't mention is that Ignatius Martin is the name of my violin. =D
22-Whats your favorite color: Green? Purple? Cream? Dark Brown? All of them besides neon colors?
23-Do you still watch kiddie shows or TV shows: When I babysit.
24-Whats on your walls: hats. Lots and lots of hats
25-What are you: I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger a'traveling through this world of woe. But there's no sickness, toil, or danger in that fair land to which I go.
26-Do you speak any other languages: Latin, Pig Latin, Xulph, and Pirate.
27-Whats your favorite smell: The smell of a crisp, foggy autumn night after the sky has been cleared by the rain!
28-Describe your life in one word: Esoteric
29-Have you ever kissed in the rain: No, but I have waltzed. Which is much more entertaining, and romantic. If only my partner were a little more visible... lol, not really.
30-What are you thinking about: my violin.
31-What should you be doing: entertaining our guests
32-Who was the last person that made you upset/mad: My dear, loving brother
33-How often do you talk to God: Not as much as I should, but it's improving!
34-Do you like working in the yard:  Only if I'm by my lonesome
35-If you could have any last name in the world, what would you want:  Moriarty.
36-What is your natural hair color: Ash blonde, but it's more like dirty honey in the summer
37-Do you have many friends: More than I'd expect.
38-Who is you role model: Valentine Wiggin, Katherine of Magnus, Vin, Clarisse McClellan, Alexa (Dark Hills Divide), Lady Blakenly, Lady Eileen (The Squire, His Knight, and his Lady), Lady Ophelia (Hamlet). Yeah, mystery interrogator, there's a lot of them. I'd add Eowyn to the list, but the only difference is that she's got a sword and horses but I don't.
39-Do you like your life: It has its ups and downs.
40- I am going to tag
Escapist and Qwip. Because everyone else has already done the tag.

A giving of thanks

As I sit to write this post, I'm not even certain if I will live up to its title. After all, other people have already posted about Thanksgiving, and the non-conformist in me hates trends. And the punctual person in me hates being late. So who knows how this post will turn out...

I think I may have decided to do it - take the plunge, ignore the misgivings in the back of mine mind. Alrighty, for my daily dose of sappiness, here is my Black Friday list of thanksgiving.

First of all, I'm eternally thankful that God doesn't have mood swings like I do. If He did, I'd never be sure if He'd forgive me for my trespasses. So I'm thankful that He does not have the mood swings I do. I'm also thankful for the rough year He gave me last year. He made me much wiser than I would be otherwise. Of course, there's still much, much room for improvement.

I'm thankful for my family, even when I don't get along with them as well as I should like. Thanks, Mom, for putting up with this little girl trying to grow up too soon, and Dad, thanks for all the lessons in character. And as for you, Thurs, thanks for the request. I wouldn't be here without you.

Ah, my friends, my friends. I believe I've done a few posts on this before. But now that I've got my sappiness running, I may as well devote a bit of time to them individually.Unfortunately, I'm still in a food induced haze, so if I've forgotten you, my humblest apologies.

So, in no particular order, I give you my friends. As many of them as I can remember at the moment.




It just struck me how horribly cliche that would be. Soooo.... comment and tell me if I should or shouldn't write yet another post about why I'm thankful for my friends. And don't worry, I won't think you're too interested if you do comment in the affirmative.

So, tell me.

B

MLIA

"Today, my friend dragged me to see New Moon. There were tons of 'Team Edward' and 'Team Jacob' supporters, which has to be the most pointless debate of all time. Out of nowhere, a guy dressed like the Phantom of the Opera ran through the crowds yelling "TEAM PHANTOM!" at the top of his lungs. I think he wins. MyLifeIsAverage."

Win. Pure, simple, unadulterated Win. Or Up. Or Cool. Or Awesome. Or whatever word you're using to describe the general principle. If there were "Team Phantom" t-shirts, I'd wear one. Completely.


Ponder on that for a while.
B

Haha!

It's good to know I've still got a knack for inflicting pain on myself. After the six months since I broke my toes, I was getting a little worried, not to mention the six weeks since I drew blood with plastic blocks.  So you can guess my pleasure when I proved that I am still perfectly capable of maiming myself.

I started out by taking out my knee at Costco when a carton of juice I was holding got a life of its own and attacked me.

The knee turned vicious, and during the unloading process gave out just when I was going down our concrete steps. I found my face only narrowly escaping a kiss from the ground, but on the plus side, the offending knee was punished, leaking mine very life fluid onto the ground. The palms were also roughed up in my life-or-death fight with the stairs, and they are taking vengeance even as I type.

They say that everyone has a special gifting. Mine must be hurting myself. How else can I explain this 'awkward stage' that's been ongoing for fifteen years? (You can't really count the year I was not autonomously mobile)

And there's yet another incredibly self-centered post.
B

Too young

I think it was the lateness of the hour, combined with the lack of sleep on the driver's part combined with unfamiliar roads. But whatever it was, it was unpleasant. Tonight, coming home from church, I had the (mis)fortune of seeing my life flash before mine proverbial eyes. We had to stop in a major city on our way home to drop books off at a library, and the driver was not familiar with the area.

Coming away from the library, our driver was a little stressed, and almost changed lanes into a car. This was unpleasant since the other car started about six inches in front of where I was sitting. I was looking out the window as the complex maneuver occurred and saw this car draw closer and closer to where I was sitting. The rest of the drive home, I was wishing I'd brought my personal instant teleportation device along. It's safe to say I've never been that scared. ... Yeah.

I'm never going driving without bringing the aforementioned teleportation device along. Ever.

B

Hoarse

Yesterday was a lovely little round robin. Because of my sickness this past week, I didn't expand my Original Oratory from outline form until Friday night, and it was finished at 1:30 am Saturday with cold medicine running through my veins. Since the RR was held about an hour from my house and started at 8:15, I got up at 5:30, getting only 3.5 hours of sleep.

Fortunately, we got there with half an hour to spare. Starbucks was quickly found, and the shot of espresso I ordered there helped me keep some semblance of pleasantness during the day. Alright, it was very jittery pleasantness, but nonetheless, I was not a complete troll. Peach and/or her mom got me another shot of espresso later on in the day, which was so sweet of them.

Interestingly enough, this RR ranks in the top three tournaments I've ever attended. I actually enjoyed myself - probably because I made myself socialize. In fact, I talked so much, I'm slightly hoarse, and I've got roughly five hours of church to leave for. ;)

The best part was that my club did very well - placing people in many of the categories awarded, and I'm really proud of them for it.

Anyways, it's off to church!

B

Finally

So, I'm pretty much over the fever stuff, but now I'm coming down with a cold. :( Challenging Murphy wasn't such a great idea last week. :P

Anyways, the 'long-awaited' explanation of Libby's seemingly random comment on Gummy Bear Theology.

This weekend was the Christian Musician's Summit. It was two days of amazing musical fun. From the beginning concert of Lincoln Brewster to the ending funky groove of Newworldson, I enjoyed myself quite heartily. It was an interesting format: worship/concert in the morning and sermon, then a couple of sessions, lunch, then more worship, then another session, then dinner, and finally another concert. We listened to the strains of Lincoln Brewster, Brenton Brown, Paul Baloche, Don Poythress, Matt Redman, Newworldson, Doyle Dykes, and others I can't remember.

Anyways, it was a highly successful weekend. I was able to attend a few classes on songwriting, a few on playing violin in worship contexts, and one on being a 'street musicianary' (musician = missionary).  Of the sessions I attended, my favorite was 'Anchoring Songwriting in Truth."  Brian Doerksen, the teacher to the class, has written some of the most popular worship songs (Come, Now is the time to Worship, among them). He talked about balancing truth with artistry in songwriting, which was most interesting. And of course, I attended the session on crossing genre lines, with Don Poythress. Those two combined were the best ones.

For the two days, I hung out with Libby, Ophelia, Bracie, Peach, Keilah, and a few others. Peach, Libby, and I formed the converse coalition of the group.=] And did I mention the amazing convention floor there, too?

Unfortunately, I came down with some fever/dizziness thing on Saturday, so I ended up leaving the evening concert early. It was a real pity because newworldson, the band with a 1930's beatboxing gangster as front-man had an amazing groove going.  Oh well.

If you'll excuse me, I've got a speech to write.

B

Thanks

I wasn't going to post today, since I'm still feeling fuzzy and all, but then Libby, from Random Jot Downs provided me with a ready-made post.  See, she awarded me and also gave me a tag. Glee. Now I don't have to think much, but I can still post. !

Rules:
1. Do a post about the person who awarded you, and their blog.
2. Give the award to 5 of your favorite blogs, give a reason, and leave a comment telling them they have been awarded.
3. Answer the 10 random questions.
4. Have Fun!

Libby is an amazing girl who I've only known well for about six months. She's the kind of girl you know has good, deep roots, but isn't afraid to flower for all she's worth. She's a beautiful, kind, caring girl who I hope to know better by the end of the year. : Love you, Libby!

Now, who to award?

First, I award the Inflatable Squirrel, from The Big Happy World of Confused People, because I want to see what he does with the questions. It should be amusing. :P

Second, I award Thom from logorythmia because he needs to post more often. And I'm related to him. :P

Thirdly, I award the Escapist of PainDeathLoveHateTogether and The Escapist Has Found a Home because he's cool.

Fourthly, I award Bracie from the Locket because after spending an intense two days with her at CMS,  I really want to know if she's ever ridden an elephant.


Fifth... Ophelia, from the Reluctant Dragon, because I like her. A lot. 'Nuff Said.

If I didn't tag you, sorry. I could only do 5 people.

Now, for the interesting part.
1. Have you ever ridden an elephant?
Only in my dreams

2. Have you ever eaten squid?
No, but I have eaten Octopus. It tasted like really chewy peanut butter.

3. What is something crazy you have done with your best friend?
I don't have a single "Best Friend". I've made a weird music video, sat for hours pondering idealism like a druggie, and planned to make a zombie movie in Latin.

4. Have you ever held an alligator?
Can't say I have.

5. Have you ever let a snake slither through your fingers?
Yeah. I liked the way it felt - dry and slippery at the same time.

6. What is your first and foremost dream in life?
How should I know? There are too many options.

7. What is your dream vacation?
Grand Tour of the World.

8. What is the funniest movie you have ever seen?
Charlie Chaplin's The Great Dictator... ? I don't know.

9. What is your favorite song?
Too many to count. Among the top are "So She Dances" by Josh Groban, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" by Monty Python,  "You Remain" written by Don Poythress,  "Dark Waltz" by Haley Westenra, and "If I ever leave this world alive" by Flogging Molly. Of course, there are so many more... :P

10. If you could change the world in one way, what would you do?
I'd make it a place where you could have adventures again. :)



-------------^^---^^-------------

The second tag is an interesting Character Tag.
"List twelve characters from any fandom, and then answer the following questions."
1. Scout Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)
2. Horatio Hornblower
3. Aragorn (LotR)
4. Solembum (Inheritance Cycle)
5. Auralia (Auralia's Colors)
6. Atticus (To Kill a Mockingbird)
7. Charles Schwa (The Schwa was here)
8. Agatha Heterodyne, Girl Genius (Girl Genius webcomic)
9. The Reverend Theo Fobius (Schlock Mercenary)
10. Nike Vogler (Ex Machina, my story)
11. Algernon (The Importance of Being Ernest)
12. Monk (from the TV series Monk)

1) Who would make a better college prof, 6 or 11?
Atticus. Algernon's too flakey
2) Do you think 2 is hot? How hot?
How did I know this would happen? Yeah, I'd say so. Very. It doesn't help that Ioan Gruffudd is good looking. *blush*
3) 12 sends 8 out on a mission. What is it? Does it succeed?
I don't think Monk would ever associate with Agatha... He probably tells her to go steal the Dyne of Power from the Evil Dr. Toad, and it succeeds to a certain extent, after Agatha obliterates Dr. Toad's fortress using her Sparky Kill-o-Rific blow torch. Monk is last seen neatly stacking the rubble into a rectangular prism.
4) What is or would be 9's favorite book?
Oo. That's tough. "The Religion of Survival: Pastoring in sociopathic settings"? Who knows?
5) Would it make more sense for 2 to swear fealty to 6, or the other way around?
Neither are the 'swear fealty' type. Though I suppose Horatio would accept Atticus as a commanding officer...
6) For some reason, 5 is looking for a roommate. Should (s)he share a studio apartment with 9 or 10?
Umm... 10. Nike's bookish enough to get along with Auralia
7) 2, 7, and 12 have dinner together. Where do they go, and what do they discuss?
So Horatio, Charles, and Monk walk into a bar... It sounds like a really bad joke. Charles and Monk would hit it off straight away, as Monk literally walks into Charles, distracted by a straw lampshade. Horatio is politely bored, wishing to get back to his ship, and Monk ruins the evening by getting them kicked out of the diner. It looks like Charles will be able to finish his meal in peace, until the waitress clears away the food, leaving Charles the long, hungry way back to his house.
8) 3 challenges 10 to a duel. What happens?
Nike glomps Aragorn before he has a chance to draw his sword. Aragorn is flustered by this fangirlish behavior, and quickly disentangles himself from the screams of his adoring fan. He beats a hasty retreat. Nike: 1, Aragorn: 0
9) If 1 stole 8's most precious possession, how would she/he get it back?
Agatha would turn Finch into her latest science project, trying the si vales vale procedure on an uninfected patient to see what happens. She would then feel quite sorry for doing that to a poor little girl, and would give the now-deranged Scout a lovely glass jar to spend her remaining hours in peace.
10) Suggest a title for a story in which 7 and 12 both attain what they most desire.
Charles and Monk, "Good Country for Odd Men"
11) What kind of plot device would you use if you wanted 4 and 1 to work together?
Tell Scout that Solembum is a lost kitty, and needs her help to get back home, and tell Solembum that Scout isn't too bad for a girl. :P
12) If 7 visited you for the weekend, how would you get along?
I'd probably forget him. ... :) He's the Schwa, after all
13) If you could command 3 to perform any one task or service for you, what would it be? Teach me cool Ranger stuff.
14) Does anyone on your friends list write or draw 11?
No, not that I know of.
15) If 2 had to choose sides between 4 and 5, which would it be?
If Horatio had to choose between Solembum and Auralia, I think he'd choose Auralia, because he's a gentleman and he always seems to do that.  LAME
16) What might 10 shout while charging into battle?
Nike would shout something along the lines of "What do I do now?!!??"
17) If you chose a song to represent 8, which song would you choose?
"Skullcrusher Mountian" by Jonathan Coulton
18) 1, 6, and 12 are having dim sum at a Chinese restaurant. There is only one scallion pancake left, and they all reach for it at the same time. Who gets to eat it?
Scout would grab it, being impetuous and all, but Atticus would tell her to put it back. Except that Monk won't eat it now because it's got Scout's germs all over it. Scouts eats the pancake.
19) What might be a good pick-up line for 2 to use on 10?
Horation wouldn't need to use a pick-up line... Nike's a sucker for handsome story heroes (she's an unpopular book worm after all). Just one look, and she'd be his forever.
20) What would 5 most likely be arrested for?
Auralia --- umm, making art or disturbing my mental health... pick one.
21) What is 6's secret?
He shoots a gun really well?
22) If 11 and 9 were racing to a destination, who would get there first?
Probably the Reverend because he's got a starship and a rapier...
23) If you had to walk home through a bad neighborhood late at night, would you feel safer in the company of 7 or 8?
As long as Agatha doesn't turn on me, Agatha. Otherwise, neither would be much help. On second thought, Charles would probably have some great stealth moves. :P
24) 1 and 9 reluctantly team up to save the world from the threat posed by 4's sinister secret organization. 11 volunteers to help them,but it is later discovered that s/he is actually a spy for 4. Meanwhile, 4 has kidnapped 12 in an attempt to force their surrender. Following the wise advice of 5, they seek out 3, who gives them what they need to complete their quest.
What title would you give this fic?
Scout and the Reverend against Solembum, Algernon joins them, but is Solembum's spy. Solembum kidnaps Monk, so Scout and the Rev. follow Auralia's advice and find Aragorn to thwart Solembum. I would call this "A book you never want to read."

Bleh

I owe y'all a report on what I've been doing for the past two days. I really do. But I've come down with some nasty that strongly resembles flu, and it's hard to type with this vertigo.  So I'll get back to you when I'm no longer running a fever, or feeling light-headed, or... why am I even telling you this? Great. I'm rambling. I'll stop while I'm not dead-last.
B

Gummy Bear Theology

I'm a terrible procrastinator when it comes to posting ideas.  My friend Peach and I were talking about how you can find answers about Christianity in anything. This was a month and a half ago. Today, I present for your reading enjoyment our musings on Gummy Bears and Theology.

There are four ways in which Gummy Bears exemplify teachings of Christianity. First of all, you will notice that they are transparent. We are told to be honest multiple times in the Bible,  and so, Christians should be transparent like the Gummy Bear.

Next, Gummy Bears are malleable. Like yummy Potter's Clay. Need we say more?

You will then observe that it is very easy to rip off Gummy Bears' heads. This shows that we're all mortal, and awfully easy to kill.

Finally, Gummy Bears come in so many flavors and colors - white, green, red, yellow, orange... Just like all the races of humans on this earth. The kingdom of God is not made of one nationality. It's a grab bag, just like a Gummy Bear bag.

Thanks all for reading.

Peach and B

And so she dances...

I went on a waltz yesterday. Yes, a waltz. It was raining outside (no, really?) and I just couldn't bear to study, so I went waltzing with my visibly-challenged partner, Ignatius. :)

The good part about this is that it seems to have snapped me out of it. Posting can resume as normal.

Shades of Grey

This past week, it seems like everything has gone monochrome. It's an odd feeling: I'm wide awake, yet I feel lethargic; I have friends over, and I am still lonely when they leave. *sigh*

"I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, become so tired, so much more aware. I'm becoming this; all I want to do is be more like me and be less like you."

It couldn't be summed up better. So, in an effort to spare my readers from an overload of grey posts, I'll stop posting until I snap out of it.

Until then,

B

*celebrates*

Yesterday I was able to spend time with a dear friend of mine. That we were able to make time to do so was remarkable.

First thing we did, we went to the mall. Yes, I know, we're horrible people. But anyway, we found this little Japanese dollar store in there, and decided to buy some food as an experiment. We came out of the store with a package of odd rice thingies, rice candies, and something called 'Yan Yan'.

Yan Yan, we discovered, was a package of cookie sticks and a little chocolate cream. You dip the stick in the chocolate, and eat it. Well, on each stick, there was an animal, with a caption that went along with it.

Specs had some interesting sticks:
"Cow: Muuuuuuuuuu"
"Chick: Favorite Color Yellow"
"Duck:  Go For a Swim"
'Whale: Biggesy Animal"
"Goat: You are lucky today"

For some reason, I got the weirdest captions:
"Octopus: Lucky Number, 8"
"Beetle: Favorite Color Brown"
"Bat: Only in the Night"
"Squid:  Black Ink"
And my favorite. "Stag Beetle: Love it."

Of course, we did many other things, but if I told you, I'd forfeit my blackmail material. ;)

The moral of this story? Love your stag beetles.

B

Problem Solved!

The Johari Window uses a set list of adjectives. A person is asked to describe themselves with five or six adjectives, and then that persons' friends and associates are asked to do likewise, working from the same list of adjectives.

I'd like to see what happens. http://kevan.org/johari?name=Problematic

Also, if you filled it out under my real name, the results are already shown in the window, so you needn't do it again.

B

My Jeesh

If you have read the Ender's Game series by Orson Scott Card, you know what this title means. If not, you are missing out, and I highly recommend it, unless you've got a problem with mild swears. But moving on, a jeesh. The word "Jeesh" refers to a close group of friends, trusted by the individual possessing said Jeesh. In the original context, Ender's Jeesh was a group of friends with whom Ender worked

 Sometimes I get caught up with the tragedies and comedies enacting themselves in the stage, and think that the rest of the world is in the peanut gallery, making sarcastic comments about the bad acting. The truth is closer to this: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." In this particular comedy, I may be the title character, but rather than occupying the peanut gallery, my close friends and associates find themselves acting in the play with me. Because of that, I do all I can do to be the best back-up actress in their own comedies and tragedies.

I was thinking about my Jeesh.  It's quite amazing the types of people present. I've got extroverts and introverts galore. I've got courtyard and keep inhabitants; actors and acrobats; flower people and autumn folk; poets and artists and musicians; bubbly and withdrawn people. The whole thing is a little daunting to observe. I'm a little slow to warm up to people, so thinking that I've got trustworthy friends as wonderful as this is quite overwhelming.

Because I appreciate them, I'll list the names of my Jeesh. If they've got screennames, I'll be using those, if not, their initials will suffice. In alphabetical order:

Bracie - Kindred Spirit
Dory  - Fellow Romantic
Escapist - Dreamer of Dreams
Lady Knight - Co-conspirator
Lady Nessa - Cream to my Coffee
Lady Specs - Comforter
NtropyIncarnate - Dancer in the Rain
Ophelia - Fierce Damsel
Peach - Fruity Fun
Qwip  -  Cross-examiner
S.C. - Beautiful Soul
Thursday - Plotter
Toothpick  - Best. Mistake. Ever.

Thank you. It's doubtful that I'd be me without y'all. And it goes without saying that I'm always trying to add to the list. ;)

B

... had a bad day ...

It all started last night... er... this morning. I woke up early (3:00ish) remembering that I forgot a very important bit on my science assignment: my name, class date, and name of the lab. So I labeled the report, and woke up at 6:00 for Coop A. Coop A is enough to make any day bad, but it get's better. I figured out how much of a skill I've got for hurting myself: I made myself bleed from two cuts made using Molymod models in science.

After leaving Coop A early, I drove up north for an hour to talk about LD debate to a group of homeschoolers for 2 hours. And my partner didn't plan anything out, except the debate we gave. So we talked like bumbling fools for half of the two hours, and debated like bumbling fools for the rest.  It was not impressive. Worst quote of the event came from yours truly: "So these ships fire anti-tank guns at each other as they sail past and... whoops, not Anti-Tank guns. I don't know. Some big type of gun. You can tell I don't pay attention to the military. "

Then the drive home, mentally berating myself for not forcing my partner to plan ahead, and finally getting home only to realize I'm so mentally-exhausted that I'm struggling with all the homework I've got to do before bed. *sigh*

Things look grim, gentlemen!

Tee-hee

I was going through my picture archives today, and I rediscovered some 'priceless' photos of me. Being the thick-skinned person that I am (sarcasm intended), I thought it would be a capital idea to share the best of them on my blog. Because we all know how much I enjoy embarrassing myself in public.

This first one isn't really embarrassing. It's just showing off Ignatius, my violin.

However, this one is fairly unusual. It all happened when my chemistry teacher last year sent me home with hydrochloric and sulfuric acids, and I was play- um, scientifically experimenting with them. I realized that all I needed to add was the top hat and the great coat, and I'd look like a bona fide mad scientist.

This is the more dignified mad scientist. More "gentlewoman researcher" than "Phantom of the science lab."

Right before a symphony concert, in my squirrel suit.

This is me being a closet thespian with Abby. We did the tea scene from the Importance of Being Ernest. I was the whatsername from the city.

Teenage mutant ninja friends. Notice the amazing war paint on our faces.

Never fear! It's Super-Doctor here to save the world with her scientifically awesome cane!



Mhmm. I know what you're thinking. "Oh yeah, we really wanted to see pictures of Problematic goofing around with a camera." Well, tough. Build a bridge, get over it, and burn the bridge. Feel better? Good.

B

Personality Thing

It would appear that Bracie beat me to posting about this.

Anyways, there's this website that tracks what people think about you compared to what you think of yourself. Not thinking ahead very far, I set up the website with my real name. This is a problem: to post the website here would give away my name to those who don't know me, but making a new one is redundant because only my friends would be able to give accurate results. *sigh*

B

Bandwagon

There it is. It's coming around the corner. The 'solid, unmoving cattle of humanity' has turned into a seething mob of humanity, and it's all centered on one option. People rush it, clawing frantically for a few precious inches of territory. A calliope plays from the back, beckoning all and sundry to jump on, enjoy the ride, and jeer at those not privileged enough to join them. As people stream toward it, you're faced with a choice: You either join the mad rush to jump on the bandwagon, or you block the bandwagon's path.

This all is to say that Problematic has been run over by the bandwagon, and she's not sure she likes it.

There is a Reaper

Today's post is brought to you by All Soul's Day, commemorating the souls who took the stairs in the past year. Actually, I'm just looking for an excuse to post one of my favorite poems: The Reaper and the Flowers, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

' There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

"Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he;
"Having naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.

"My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."

"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."

And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love:
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away. '

So if Sunday you're free...

Last night, my brother Thursday and I made a last minute decision to dress up for All Hallow's Evening. Previously, we had planned to spend the evening studying and hiding from trick-or-treaters, but this decision moved us to action.

Roughly two hours before nightfall, we decided to dress up as turn-of-the-century carolers and sing creepy songs (for free) to the autumn folk abroad last night.

I ended up looking something like this (see right) except with less pink, and more dark purple, black, and gray, not to mention a larger hat, and no parasol. This fashion, by the way, is from the late Victorian era, just before the turn of the century.

Thursday dressed right in line, coming in men's dress from the 1890s. He looked very dashing with his red scarf and top hat. (below)

Anyways, so we went and sang to everyone. This is what generally happened:

"Good evening. A very happy All Hallow's Eve to you. May we sing you a song?"

"Uh, sure. Hey, guys, come here! They're going to sing to us!"

At which point, Thursday and I would sing "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park" or "We Will All Go Together When We Go", both by Tom Lehrer, as well as, "Senses Capture" by Leaves Eyes, and "Escapist" by Nightwish. We had a great time, even diverting a group of candy-seekers from their quest. They followed us to a house to listen to us sing. It was quite amusing.

B

As a side note, today was 'celebration Sunday' for our church. We arrived at the church (which is an hour away from our house) at 6:00 am to catch a bus down to Oregon, stayed the day, and got back home at 9:00 pm. That meant getting up at four after four hours of sleep. The best part was the bus trip.

Christian Morbidity

This summer I attended a five-day Christian leadership camp for teenagers. The camp was held on a local university's campus, and so the girls were all housed in the same dorm. In order to truly keep us 'unruly' campers under tabs at all times, girls were divided up into groups of 8 to 12, and a staff person was assigned with each group. Supposedly, the groups would do everything together - eating, walking, sitting during lectures, as well as quiet time and something they called 'T-time.' For those in the groups fortunate to have friends attending, the only time we were required to be around the group was one meal a day, and at T-time.

My group was interesting. We had a very sweet girl only a few years older than I as the group leader, and she turned T-time into 'arts-and-crafts' time. Thus it was that the second night, I came out of T-time with a name tag for my door, with the legend "death before dishonor" scrawled on front.  I really don't know why I got such a hard time about it... I even put stylized flowers on it like all the 'normal,' 'perfectly healthy' girls. Well, they were stylized purple roses, but it was a huge concession on my part! As were the bright colors elsewhere on the placard.

At this point, my introduction has only something slightly to do with the title of the post, so I'll wrap up. The group leader and the other girls saw my name tag, and rather than seeing the phrase "death before dishonor," they could not get past the "death" part. So I was roundly ragged on for being 'morbid.' In fact, I was in informed that Christians should not be morbid, and that it is not pleasing to God.  Oh, and that by using that phrase, I was most likely depressed.

...Wait a second. Rewind there. What is this, saying that Christians should not be morbid? Christians believe that this world is just the temporary precursor to the afterlife. Last I checked, the only way to get there was to die.  Christians should be the most 'morbid' people in the world. We realize that the mortality rate is 100%, and that everyone is going somewhere when they die. Which means that Christians should be spreading the news of "we're all going to die, but guess what?! We've got a solution! His name is Jesus!", not avoiding the issue like the plague.

By treating death as 'taboo,' Christians adopt the same fear of death as the rest of the world, in direct violation of the phrase 'in the world, but not of it.' What is so scary about death when we've got our Lord and Savior waiting for us on the other side?

B

Edit: I didn't realize that my morbid post would be published on All Hallow's Eve... What an interesting coincidence. 

Problematic's Rules of Living

I will now present to you a few of my mostly light-hearted truths of life. They are things I try to incorporate into my daily life, and maybe you can too. NB: These are newly rearranged in order of importance.

Rule 12: "Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast." Oscar Wilde
Rule 11: "Chocolate flavor" is not chocolate.
Rule 10: Chew, then swallow.
Rule 9: Coming home is always more fun if you have to break and enter to do so.
Rule 8: It is impossible to gracefully hike in a skirt. Either you hike, or you walk gracefully.
Rule 7: "Music with dinner is an insult both to the cook and the violinist." GK Chesterton
Rule 6: If your water has an ingredient list, it's not water.
Rule 5: Music is life.
Rule 4: Living is a hard habit to break.
Rule 3: There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.
Rule 2: Love your neighbor as yourself.
Rule 1: And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. Mark 12:30

I have to admit, rules 2 and 1 are the ones where I have the hardest time, but as rule 3 so aptly puts it, there's always hope.

B

New Background 2

I rather liked the last one, but I'm also attached to this one, too. We'll see how long it sticks around. :)

B

The Merry Men and Robin Hood

This week, in case you didn't know, has been designated by some blogger as "Maid Marian Fashion Week." Which is why, in case you've been paying attention, there are quite a few Robin Hood related posts on the internet. As a loyal Robin Hood fan, of course I felt the urge to blog about his lady love. In all actuality, I didn't. But the fact remains: This post is - and will be - devoted to a topic pertaining to Maid Marian.

Something about heroics intrinsically captures human imagination. Maybe disbelief is a factor - disbelief that another person is willing to risk their life for a stranger. Or perhaps it's admiration - of the hero's bravery, courage, strength, or other attribute. Well, whatever it is, heroes attract our imagination, and, by corollary, we are attracted to the ones loved by heroes.

For instance, numerous stories, paintings, etc. have been dedicated to Maid Marian, Robin Hood's romantic interest. This post is another example.

I've always imagined Marian a kind of elf. As in, straight from Middle Earth. In fact, when the Lord of the Rings came out, I saw Galadriel and thought "Wow, she's like Maid Marian, only legal!" Everyone seems to think that Marian wore boots. In my extremely humble opinion, she went barefoot. And she was kind of like a ninja - assassin.

Imagine it. The scene cuts to Sherwood Forest, where a road winds through a shadowed grove of trees. It is dusk, and a group of nobles are traveling quickly, eager to get home for the evening. One nervously glances toward the shadows in the roots of the trees, but sees nothing. The perspective changes, and Marian is crouching behind the tree, readying her medieval-English versions of ninja stars. The nobles are startled as Robin Hood and twenty-odd men stop the path in front of them. Marian smiles as Robin launches into the usual rot about rich people sapping the lifeblood of the poor, and she slips from behind the trees, and climbs onto the bottom of the carriage, clinging upside down as the cavalcade starts again. Foolish Robin. If only he didn't try so hard, he might be a half-good outlaw.

Later that night, she sneaks into the Sheriff's castle, and as he sleeps, she carefully places her black-mail letter on his headboard, held in place by a wickedly sharp ninja star.

I was kidding about the ninja part. That would be a little weird. But the fact remains, I always think of Marian as the one caring for the plants of the forest, like an elf. Ah well, it's too bad we'll never really know.

But hey! It's fun imagining it.
B, who is feeling very silly

Rain Walk #2

2 down, 3 to go.

Once again, I was able to get myself soaked. And once again, I have come up with a fresh batch of interesting thoughts. My next post shall be one of those. As a side note, 'The Highwayman' sung by Loreena McKennit is a great song for long walks in the rain.

Now, if you don't mind, I've got to dry off now. :P

B

Edit: Not the next post, but the one after that.

Letter to the Editor

I usually pre-write my posts the week before I plan to post them, but today, I'm going to break the mold. For my Rhetoric class, we were supposed to write a letter to the editor of our local newspaper about media bias. The following letter is presented for your political-junky reading pleasure. Enjoy.

"Editor, the Times:

Although a private company, a newspaper has a responsibility to all of its readers. This responsibility is delivering truth about the day’s news to its readers. Some newspapers find themselves in the unfortunate position of providing propaganda, rather than filtering it out.

Biased media representation of facts harms not only the truth, but the readers of these newspapers. Newspapers do a disservice by prepackaging half-truths and interpretations for their subscribers. When readers subscribe to a newspaper, they expect to receive reliable information, not propaganda; personal opinion presented, not as fact, but merely opinion. Most of all, readers expect fair-dealing with hot topics.

These hot topics include such controversial issues as evolution and its critics, the fight over homosexuals’ place in society, and political candidates. It is in these areas and areas like them that newspapers tend to stumble with the concept of ‘truth.’ Misrepresenting ‘the opposition’ on these issues does not make ‘the opposition’ less trustworthy, it only misinforms voters.

To sum, when a newspaper steps from providing news to reporting misleading news, it has violated its responsibility of delivering truth to its subscribers.

Best of wishes as you strive for accurate reporting."

New Background

It's time for a change. Change we can believe in. Change to celebrate the sheer magnificence of the word 'change'. This new background will only stay for a few days, to celebrate a particularly imaginative mood of mine.

B

A brief complaint

The problem with being known for plotting is that people always suspect you when you're not doing anything. The other day, I was out and about with my good friend Lady Speckles. She was trying on a ring in a jewelry store, and, though I was not particularly interested in engagement rings, I made a genuine compliment on how the ring looked on her finger. She gave me a sharp look, said "I don't think it looks that bad,"  and tried on another.  Later that same day, she asked my opinion on something, but I didn't have an opinion, so I made a non-committal reply, and she gave me the same look, and said something to the extent of "Whatever you're planning, I don't want to be in it."

Now, I like the reputation of be a plotter, but it takes a lot of energy to plot properly. So when people accuse me of plotting when I'm not, it's slightly annoying.

End Rant.
B

Eagles

As you look through literature, common motifs become apparent. One such motif is the eagle. Specifically, the eagle has come to represent the heroes in books, while bats or ravens represent the villains. The eagle and the raven face off, prepared to fight to the death, and all the attention focuses on this 'match of the century.' But no one ever remembers the pigeons, the extras, the set changers of the main drama.

Eagles are the important folk. In stories, they tend to have big, shiny swords, larger egos, and a moral center that constantly pits them against those of opposing views. In real life, they are smart, witty, and centers of attention. When an eagle walks into the room, you're certain to notice. People observe every move, every word spoken. Each action an eagle makes has thousands of effects that ripple outward like waves in a still pond. They can be political, like President Obama, or scientific, like Einstein, or even just flashy, like the actors in Hollywood or Oprah Winfrey. Eagles are, in short, the noticeable, 'cool' ones. They go out to combat with zeal, passion, and energy, trying to raise the poor, oppressed population as they go.

Ravens are the Eagles' doppelgangers. They are charismatic, energetic, 'go-do'ers. Ravens are the ones that dress in black, have evil henchmen, and tend to live in dark, stormy castles. The job-description includes oppressing the poor population, burning villages, and serving as the Eagle's scape goats. The truth of the accusations laid against them may vary, but from the Eagles' perspectives, they are always in the wrong, and should be destroyed. They too, are political, like former President Bush or Vladimir Putin, or scientific, like Oppenheimer, or flashy, like Oprah Winfrey or Rush Limbaugh. Regardless of the truth of the accusations, they are always shown in the worst light possible, and can be counted on to fight the Eagles to the death, burning and destroying Pigeons as they go.

But what of these Pigeons? Who are they? We are. The unimportant, unflashy, non-sword wielding, oppressed population is us. We're ignorable. When an Eagle is present, no one looks at us. We are roused by the Eagles to fight against the Ravens, and then the Ravens come through, and we fall with the Eagles. We are caught in the middle and used by both of the important birds. Our plumage isn't fierce, nor is it glossy. It's gray, fluffy, common. We have no talons, no sharp beaks, and we scrabble on the ground for the leftovers of the Eagles and Ravens. We're Red Shirts.

If this prospect depresses you, I have an uplifting message: Embrace your mediocrity! Where would the Eagles and Ravens be without their extras? They'd be left in a room, glaring daggers at each other, unable to do anything. Without expendable, unimportant background players, the plot of a story cannot progress. Just because it may not be as interesting, awesome, or cool, the stories we possess are just as legitimate as the ones the heroes and villains occupy. We are the heroes of our own stories, and we should not wait for the other birds to make fools of us. Seize the day, because who knows when you'll be thrown under the band wagon?

Proudly a pigeon,
B

Thank you, everyone

My birthday party was today. After all is said and done, I had a good day. I woke up this morning, and didn't feel like celebrating much, and I was slightly worried that no one would have fun at said party. But even then, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

My least favorite part was the awkward handshake things I gave to my guy-friends, but hey, it would have felt just as awkward to give hugs to you... So sorry, Escapist, Qwip, and A.O for the awkward bits. :P

I'm tired right now, so I'll keep this short. I just wanted to thank everyone who attended. It was such a blessing to have my friends celebrate with me. So thank you everyone, for making my day truly happy.

:)

B

Now this is confusing

Dear Ophelia, from The Reluctant Dragon had a photo contest these past few months. The rules where simple: Take a photo of yourself doing something weird, and photoshop the words "Weird is the New Normal" onto it. Send it to the official email, and await the results. I did that, and surprisingly, I won the contest. This is just a shout-out for a good friend. Check her out.


Here's the entries: http://lereticentdragon.blogspot.com/2009/10/entries.html

B

Mr. Sandman

I've been having sleepless nights recently. This last time, rather than feeling sorry for myself and angsting (can-of-wormsing that now), I actually had a brilliant chain of thoughts. Well, maybe not. But the fact remains, I did do something more useless than moaning about my life. I classified the types of sleepless nights I have. Yes, you all should be inhaling a collective gasp.

As I wrote in a previous post, some nights I stay up, doing nothing more than angsting. This provides a much needed emotional - release, 'specially when considering how much I bottle them up. I cry, I journal, I weep, and in short, I have a bad old time. Some nights, though, I don't release my emotions. This may be because I'm asleep.

On the occasions that I am not asleep, however, I am having one of two types of insomnia. My favorite type of insomnia is summarized by the phrase "the melody of mermaids keeps me awake at night," from Senses Capture, by Leave's Eyes. See, sometimes my creative juices get going right around midnight. It's on these nights that I stay up and write, draw, hum, notate, and emote into the wee hours of the mornings. Sometimes, it's lyrics to a song, or lines of a poem. Sometimes, it's new inspiration for one of my countless stories. And other times, I get the idea for a motif in a new musical composition. It's a fact of life that I physically cannot go to bed until I've recorded all of these new inspirations. So I sit in my room, scribbling madly on a piece of paper, listening to my music, and the product may be music clefs, pictures, poetic twists of a phrase, imponderable questions, or lines from a story. Good times.

The third type of insomnia, however, is much, much more mundane. It is pure sleeplessness. And it was this type of sleepless night that I've been having this past week. The ones where you stare at the ceiling for hours, feeling the sweet touch of sleep brush against your consciousness, only to be frightened away as you reach out to it for relief. Those are the nights where you just think. And think, and ponder, and pray. Ah well, such is the life.

Count your sheep,
B

It rained!

I wrote about my love of rain a few weeks ago. I also wrote that I wanted to go and out get soaked in it a few times before spring.

Today, I am happy to say, I had that opportunity. After getting up quite early to take the PSAT, and after sitting through two hours of rhetoric, I was quite ready for a change. So I took a while and went rambling in the rain, finally ending up sitting on a rock in a park, thinking. While I was joking in that previous posts about the 'great contributions' to art from these sessions, I do end up thinking interesting thoughts. Today was no different.

When at last I got home from rambling, I had acquired a new pile of sopping clothes, a soggy journal, and a fresh, shiny pile of interesting thoughts that I don't care to share at the present. The forecast predicts more rain, and I'm going to try to get ahead in my school work so I can spend more time in my favorite element. :)

Wish me luck,
B

My value is romanticism!

You may recall from a few posts back that I'm a 'hopeless romantic.' Due to my preference for time period extending from the 1800s until the end of the Industrial Revolution, I've picked up some mannerisms. For instance, saying 'excuse me, [gents/ladies]' as passing someone in the hall.

I said this the other day as I was passing in the hall, and a small kid (4-5 year old) asked me what a 'gent' was.

That opened a whole can of worms for me. It was a very good question indeed.If you can't tell where this post is about to go, I fear I shall have to be more specific: What makes a gentleman a gentleman?And more relevant to me, what makes a lady a lady?

Historically speaking, the terms 'gentleman' and 'lady' were used to describe a specific class of people in England... Today's usage, however, is what I am more interested in. Surprising as it may seem, the present day use of the term 'gentleman' was used back during the time its other use was common.

For example, in 1386, Chaucer said thus: "Certes he sholde not be called a gentil man, that... ne dooth his diligence and bisynesse, to kepen his good name." In plain English, "Certainly, a man should not be called a gentleman unless he endeavors to keep his good reputation with diligence." This is only a mediocre definition, so I shall provide a few more.

William Harrison, during the 16th century, writes that "gentlemen be those whom their race and blood, or at the least their virtues, do make noble and known." In other words, gentleman are those widely known as noble spirited either because of their noble birth, or their virtues.

My favorite one, by far, though, is General Robert E. Lee's "Definition of a gentleman." :

"The forbearing use of power does not only form a touchstone, but the manner in which an individual enjoys certain advantages over others is a test of a true gentleman. The power which the strong have over the weak, the employer over the employed, the educated over the unlettered, the experienced over the confiding, even the clever over the silly--the forbearing or inoffensive use of all this power or authority, or a total abstinence from it when the case admits it, will show the gentleman in a plain light

The gentleman does not needlessly and unnecessarily remind an offender of a wrong he may have committed against him. He cannot only forgive, he can forget; and he strives for that nobleness of self and mildness of character which impart sufficient strength to let the past be but the past. A true man of honor feels humbled himself when he cannot help humbling others." This is such a lovely definition, I shall do nothing to explain it.

So to sum, a true gentleman is a 'gentle-man' - one who treats everyone with respect, and does nothing to push others into decisions unless it is for the other's good. The list probably could be expanded, but I sense my shoulder editor has something to say.

This may be all well and good, but it isn't it a little demanding of you, B, to expect others to be gentlemen but leave no responsibilities for yourself as a lady? Good point, editor.

The attributes of a great lady may still be found in the rule of the four S's: Sincerity, Simplicity, Sympathy, and Serenity. - Emily Post

"And now when everything is made as simple and striking as possible, there probably is no time to develop such a complicated characteristic as "being ladylike" (in its former soulful meaning). ... the former concept "lady" meant also beauty. Not the beauty of features or clothes, but a graceful behavior coming from self-control. A lady is not loud-voiced, her laughter is not shrill, she moves freely and peacefully. Everything in her is beautiful even when she is homely. ...

In the era of competition the ideal of woman has become somewhat hard and "efficient". Perhaps this will be once overcome when a real lady steps forwad, in her refined and composed brilliancy." - Kersti Bergroth, Finnish writer

A lady is a woman who makes a man behave like a gentleman. - Russell Lynes 

Sometimes I look at the list (sincerity, simplicity, sympathy, serenity, grace, self control, thoughtfulness) and feel a little overwhelmed. I notice that the phrase 'sarcastic' is tellingly missing from the descriptions of ladies.  Actually, that's been bothering me a bit the past week or so. While it can be validly argued that Christ was sarcastic on occasion, the scriptures only record a few examples of Him doing so. So my argument that being sarcastic is being like Christ, something He ordered us to do, I can't justify my continual use of it. Christ only used it to point out the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, and didn't use it in every day language. The conclusion I am forced to is that my over-use of sarcasm is not a good habit to possess.

Oh, the struggle it is to be a lady, to be kind, charitable, and to ignore my inner cynic.

"Thoughtfulness for others, generosity, modesty and self-respect are the qualities which make a real gentleman or lady. "- Thomas H. Huxley

Praise to you if you stuck through that long and rambling post. End part 3

B

Learning Experience

Last year, as you may or may not know, I was in the class of my nightmares. Literally. I used to have bad dreams about walking into a doorless room with a bunch of faceless guys who laughed at me. Logic class wasn't quite so bad. There were two doors, and they all had faces.

However, during that class, I had a few unfortunate encounters of with the young men in my class. The school year started out alright, but a student transferred into the class a few weeks in, and it was from this chap that I had the most difficulties. At first, it was just making too many 'girl' jokes or syllogisms based off the difference between boys or girls. Pretty soon, he was sitting next to me because "you look depressed and need friends." Things came to a head when this particular young gentleman started picking inappropriate subjects for conversations with me, and I told Dad. Dad threatened to change this guy's voice up a few octaves, and in the end, the young man in question was made to offer an apology (of sorts) for his behavior. A week later, he pulled me aside and told me that 'it wasn't really serious' and that I 'shouldn't have got my parents involved,' not to mention that I'm {censored}teen and I "need to become independent from what my parents think." After that, I had no problems with him.

However, there were a few other mild cases from different young gents last year, and by the time June rolled around, I was feeling fairly creeped out. Well, the other day, when I was writing my previous post, I realized something. Something that was important enough to write a separate post. See, while I was wrapped up in all the mildly traumatic happenings, I'd completely forgotten that there are, in fact, decent gentlemen out there. They weren't as obvious or flashy as the indecent ones, but nevertheless, they were there. And I didn't really notice it last year.

Before last year, I was pretty wary of guys due to other unpleasant encounters. But looking back, I think that God was using logic class and the other places to teach me not to be distrustful of the group as a whole. Not all of the three who helped me read this blog, but I still am terribly thankful.

(end sappy part two)

B

Maturity

I had a landmark birthday last month. I was asked if I felt like I was my new age. The funny thing was, it felt no different than the year before, and the year before had felt like the one before that, which, in turn, resembled strongly the year before that. However, this birthday, I definitely feel older than two, three, four, or five years ago.

Five years ago, I was holding conversations with other girls using only the word 'hi!' Not too much has changed, (but the word is now 'death!') except now I know what subtext is, and can have a real conversation using subtext alone. Four years ago,  I was in the middle of exuberant puppyhood. Three years ago, I realized how lame it was getting crushes on people and forswore it completely as 'yucky.' Today, I acknowledge there is a time and a place for it, but now is not that time. Two years ago, I made myself introverted. In the present time, I struggle to reverse the process. And last year was ... a learning experience, shall we say. This year, I have realized what I learned.

Through this short timeline, it's fairly easy to see that I've matured as a person. The funny thing is that it feels like maturity ambushed me one day and gave me no warning, and yet, it doesn't feel like one day I woke up and suddenly had a new measure of it. Before I was in double-digits, I always wanted to be 'grown up,' but now that I'm on my way, I'm not so sure about it anymore. To put it frankly, some days I feel like a little kid in a big kid's mind, and I want out. *sigh*

Help me if you can, but I want to get back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh. ;) This is the first in a series of three related posts.

B

Another amusing fact: this is my fiftieth post. There will be cake.

Fear

Last night was the type of night spent tossing in bed, trying desperately to find sleep, but haunted by all one's private concerns and fears. They are certainly not good nights, but enduring them always brings temporary relief during the day. Last night, confronting those inner demons, I had something of a non-unique revelation: We are what we fear, but not in the most obvious way.

Fear does interesting things to us humans. We do anything to deny, ignore, or otherwise twist out of the realization that there are things that deeply, deeply unsettle and unnerve us. If we fear hurting people's feelings and their bad opinions about us, we adapt to outwardly be bubbly, high-spirited, and nice all the time. If you're like me, who fears not being understood and being alone in a crowd, you do everything to make it appear that you don't care what other people think, and you *try* (with various levels of success) to appear friendly and open.

In other words, it's all a facade. I'm not the only one who does this: Inside a little bomb shelter underground is a cardboard box, with my true, slimey little self huddled in a corner, desperately ignoring what I truly am. The bomb shelter, is, in turn, underneath a shiny, bright, socially acceptable building up on the surface, the one that most everyone sees. Everything I see others do is merely a display to cover up their weaknesses and fears, and everything other people see me do is the same: a facade. A mask. A posture. The clothes I wear, the expression on my face, the words I speak, they're all the costume of an incredibly talented actor. I assume the role I wish others to see every day as I get out of bed.

It all seems so depressing, that no one really knows the real me. And then I gaze into my own soul, and see that it would be more depressing if people knew who I really am. Some nights, that concept consumes all of my thoughts.

While I was wallowing in grief and self-pity about this world of actors going about their daily lives, another thought sprang to mind. "For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7.

It was with this balm on my troubled mind that I fell asleep last night.

This morning, I got out of bed, adjusted the mask, and prayed that God would give me courage to go without it someday.

B

Elysian Peace... or not

I can't tell you how much of a relief it is to have dropped a class last week. Without the two extra hours of homework a week, I'll feel much better! Well, probably not. Last week, I dropped a class called Broadway Review. The hour - and - forty - minute class usually was spent standing on stage, not singing, and waiting for the teacher to block your actions. It also assigned roughly two hours of school work each week.

Now, two hours isn't terribly significant in light of the overwhelming loads of work from AP World History, Algebra II/Trig, and Rhetoric (adding the homework from those three makes at least 20, if not more hours of homework), not to mention Biology, Spiritual Classics, the class where they grade my personal relationship with God, and violin, speech, debate, and Latin. The impact comes in when you realize the time of the class.

One morning of the week, I go to Co-op A. There, I have Biology at 8:30. I then stay at the co-op until 2:00 in the afternoon, hoping that I've brought enough schoolwork along to last until Broadway Review. Usually, I do, but since the study hall is so noisy, most of it doesn't get done. I can get more done by going home after Biology, since I seem to study better in my own house.

It looks like that nervous breakdown is going to be delayed by a few more weeks this year! That, in and of itself, is cause for celebration.

B

Concerning Hugs

About a month ago, I helped staff a speech camp for the area's competitors, and those interested in starting. On the last day, after a mock tournament and awards ceremony, there was an icecream social for all of the participants. After being introduced to my tenth person sibling or parent of various participants, I noticed something odd: I'd hugged each and every one of them, and I'd just met them. This startled me, since I've usually got boundaries about people I do and don't touch, so in the intervening month, I've done some very specific people-watching. The results are kind of interesting... In fact, if they weren't, I wouldn't be blogging about it.

Girls have an interesting habit: Hugging. The first thing I observed was that we tend to hug people hello and goodbye, kind of like shaking hands and greeting each other. This makes sense: I started doing it when I started homeschooling. But watching on, past the obvious greetings, I noticed something else.

If we're happy, we hug people. Conversely, if we're sad we hug people. Girls will also hug if they are excited, feeling down, relaxing, appreciating humor... basically, if we're in the clutches of some emotion, we'll hug someone.

This whole month of observation has been rather interesting, because people watching oneself is, pardon the comparison, kind of like depersonalization disorder.

B

Music in the blood...

As the year of my graduation approaches much too quickly to my liking, I've been receiving more and more pressure to decide what I want to do "when I grow up." One evening recently, Dad decided to tell me a little paradox:

"My daughter," he began, "sometimes I really can't understand you. I see you doing these* these musical things, BUT then I see my daughter saying she doesn't want to earn her living through music, that she isn't really that serious about her gift. That she really isn't interested in using it, and that it's more of a personal expression than a serious talent." *'these' has been substituted to protect the author's privacy.

"Dad, I didn't say that! I just said I didn't want to be in a symphony or be the next Itzhak Perlman or Sarah Chang!" I protested.

"It's the same thing! You've got music in your blood, girl, and I don't want to see you go to waste without your music. You always say it's the thing that keeps you sane. I don't want an insane daughter! Make up your mind! It's the personal connection that you make with your instruments that people like about you. Music in the blood never goes away. Don't waste it."

The purpose of that long-winded anecdote is summed up by a phrase : 'music in the blood.' Why are some people talented in arts, whether it is musical, or physical? Is the capacity for producing art born into only a few people, or is it something innate in every person, but only exploited by a few?

I think that God has placed the ability to creatively produce and appreciate art in every person's soul. We are, after all, formed in God's own likeness, and we possess other attributes of God: the ability to think and to reason well, the ability to discover what God has created, to name a few. But then, why do we run across people who "can't sing" or are "no good" at painting?

Maybe the answer to this question comes from the story of talents in the Bible. For those fuzzy on your Bible, a story tells of a land owner, who, going on a trip, divides his wealth (named "talents") among three servants for safe keeping. Two of them worked hard and doubled the amount of money the owner had given them for safety, while the third buried his in the ground so it wouldn't be stolen. When the owner returned, he praised the two who had used their talents and multiplied them, but the owner became angry at the cautious servant who had not done anything with his talent.

Bear in mind that this is pure speculation on my part... I think that God has gifted all of humanity with His likeness. Everyone can reason, everyone can think noble thoughts, and everyone can appreciate music to some degree, even produce it. But God has also given special talents to people, which makes us unique. My brother, for instance, is very gifted in the scientific and mathematical areas, and understanding of those topics comes easily to him. Everywhere you go, you will see people who are gifted in specific areas, and specialize in the areas they're talented in.

But having a specific area of talent does not mean that all focus should be directed to that one area, to the neglect of other gifts. My brother, the scientific mathematician, used to play piano beautifully. He had to work harder at it to get the emotions written into the piece, but he could play. Just because you are talented in one area doesn't mean it is acceptable to ignore other, less talented areas God has given you. A musician should not focus on music to the exclusion of history, mathematics, or other creative areas. Neither should an architect forget his love of music.

This is the problem facing society today: people have ignored the old adage: "Jack of all trades, master of none, but far better than the master of one." Vocations, interests, and talents have all become so specialized that adults spend their lives trapped inside the little boxes of their professions. Outside of their specialty box, people are, or at least feel, clueless. They are 'masters of one', rather than 'Jacks - of - all - trades." God intended humans to use all of their giftings, not just their main talents. By specializing to the exclusion of all things, we have cut ourselves off from what was originally intended.

We still feel the lack of 'well-roundedness,' as evidenced by the way music stirs emotions in even the most logical of men, of the delight a musician feels when discovering the mathematics and logic behind their 'audible emotions.'

All people have music in the blood, but not all choose to acknowledge it. All people have logic, reasoning, curiousity, in their blood, but most choose to bury their talent, to let it rot in the ground, rather than to exploit their talents to the fullest extent. Do not think that your work is less pleasing to God because you are not talented in that area.

As a musician, my conclusion, naturally, is going to be a quote about music: "Music is a fair and glorious gift from God." ~Martin Luther. As is mathematics, science, history, any area of study you can name.

B

A quick notice, and a not-so rhetorical question

I got bored of the recipe gimmick from last week. But I did make the autumn bisque (and Bracie/Ophelia, I'll probably be bringing it to church on Sunday)...

And now, I leave you with a question that has been troubling me all day: Why do parents take their infants out in strollers for walks? They don't get exercise, and since the hood thingy is usually down, they don't get fresh air either...

Chew on that,
B

Yay for disillusionment!

I'm going to shamelessly borrow this explanation from an email conversation I recently had with a friend. (Qwip, don't laugh, it's the best I've explained it yet). So, without further ado, the completely uncalled-for explanation of why I like what I like.

"I don't get depressed. I may look like I am depressed, but I vastly prefer the term 'melancholic.' Depression is a clinical state of mind that needs to be treated with specific drugs. I am not depressed. I do, however, have an inclination to be more introverted/spective, and that inclination is what is mistaken for depression. Most of the time, when my friends think I'm feeling unhappy or depressed, I am neither - merely thoughtful or not happy. (The difference between unhappy and not happy is that unhappy is 'depressed' or 'sad', while not happy is neither happy nor sad.) So there.

Okay, the long awaited reveal is here... not. I'm a hopeless romantic in the sense that I really like romanticism (an artist of the romantic period or someone influenced by romanticism). I classify myself as this due to causes which seem to fit the bill nicely: I much prefer large-picture 'epic' type - well, anything really: literature, music, and clothing. The mood I get when I surround myself with things like that is one that I like quite a bit. It's not happy, but it's not depressed either. It's kind of like exultant joy. Classic literature and speculative fiction usually helps, as does most any type of music not widely listened to in mainstream culture. And of course, old styles, steampunk accessories, and rich browns and creams in my wardrobe also help. Bright colors, stylized flowers, kittens, and butterflies don't add to it at all, and they usually end up detracting from it."

Happy? Good. Because it's not happening again.


Ponder on that one,
B

Now this is interesting...

I took a limited survey of a few friends recently about their first impression of me. The results just go to show that I really am impossible to define.

According to the average opinions of 5 friends, they first thought I was a bubbly, extroverted, happy, annoying, disturbing, troubled, and slightly scary introvert.

I think there must be something wrong with the image I'm putting off. Besides this completely nonsensical description of me, I've had some personal experiences that would seem to imply some rather troubling results.

Exhibit A: I was accused of cutting myself at a dance during the 2008-2009 school year, as well as in a class last year. This is a problem: I'm not emo!

Exhibit B: I was accused during a class last year of being depressed... "Be depressed, be depressed, Walt Disney is the best?" Er... no.

My conclusion is that I still am not viewed as a happy person. Alright, I'm not a 'happy person', but I'm not an 'unhappy person' either!

So, if you'll excuse me, I need to write up yet another self-centered post about my mental health to disillusion you (hey, where are you going? I'm talking to you!) about how I view the world. Oh wait, this was a self-centered post... Shoot.

Go out and be friendly!
B

A thought of appreciation

I appreciate Dad. I don't say this often enough: I love you. Aside from being the amazing science teacher and slightly scary math teacher, you are fantastic. When you joined Girl Scouts so I could get an award, it made me proud. And when you wore your kilt to the very same Girl Scout event, I was so happy it hurt. And when... well you get the picture, Dad. I love you.

Yes, you should be getting the warm fuzzies right now.

This has been a public service announcement.
B

Recipe #2: Harvest Bisque

I discovered this delightful soup last year during choir. It is absolutely the most delicious smooth soup I've ever eaten. Or made, for that matter...

Harvest Bisque:

1 large Acorn Squash, roasted
1 large Butternut Squash, roasted and slightly carmelized. (Bake it, uncut, at 350 for an hour and a half, then leave it in the oven as it cools down)
15 cups chicken or vegetable broth (if you use vegetable broth, make sure it's really rich)
12 Tablespoons butter
12 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons curry powder
2 1/4 cups half-and-half (or heavy whipping cream, which is what I used)
3 Tablespoons lime juice
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
3/4 teaspoon white pepper.

Scrape the cooked squash out of its shell, and place in a heavy 4-quart pot with the chicken/vegetable broth. Cook over medium heat for 15 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the squash to a blender or food processor. Blend until it's absolutely smooth. Add the blended squash back to the broth, and blend the the mixture to ensure a smooth consistency. Set aside.

In the same pot, melt the butter, and stir in the flour and curry. Cook, stirring, over medium heat until smooth. Add the pureed squash mixture to the pot. Increase heat to medium-high and stir until soup thickens slightly. Reduce heat, and add half-and-half. Do not allow soup to boil after this point! Add lime juice, salt, and white pepper, stirring to evenly distribute, and allow to sit on a low heat for 5 minutes. Serve immediately.

This is my favorite soup recipe of all time! It goes well with homemade french (or any type) bread, and a little parsley as a garnish. I highly, highly, highly recommend it.

Please make the recipe and then tell me how you liked it!
Keep cooking,
B

First Recipe! Pumpkin Muffins

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 cups raisins
• 4 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 4 cups white sugar
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons nutmeg
• 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cloves
• 6 eggs
• 1 (29 ounce) can pumpkin
• 1 cup unsweetened applesauce

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 C). Grease three 12 cup muffin pans, or line with paper muffin liners. Soak raisins in hot water for ten minutes to plump, then drain.
2. In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, nutmeg, cinnamon, and ground cloves. In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, pumpkin, and applesauce, until smooth. Add this mixture to the dry ingredients and stir thoroughly to make a smooth batter. Stir the raisins and walnuts into the batter. Spoon batter into the prepared muffin cups.
3. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes in the preheated oven, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean

Courtesy: Allrecipes.com

If you make these, please comment and tell me how they turned out!
B

An ode to cucumbers

Oh cucumber sweet,
you're such a treat,
your crunch will meet
me as I eat!

I love autumn! It's the time that all the lovely vegetables become ripe. Not all of my favorites are out yet, but I'm already planning a huge day of autumn cooking.

On the menu is:

Pumpkin Muffins

Pumpkin Pie

Pumpkin Scones (get the idea I like pumpkins?)

Baked Acorn Squash

Baked Butternut Squash

Harvest Bisque (the best recipe of the bunch)

And cucumber-cream cheese sandwiches. Oh, I almost forgot!

Corn and black bean soup

Vegetarian Chili

Homemade Cocoa Mix

Chocolate Zucchini Bread

Normal Zucchini Bread

... and the list goes on.

I'll be posting my favorite recipes for some of these this next week, in honor of the first week of autumn.

Keep baking, and don't eat too many cucumbers!
B

Rain, rain, come today...

There is something gorgeous about a overcast, gray, rainy day in the Great Northwet.

Today, I am happy to say, it rained. Unfortunately, I've been feeling a little under the weather recently, and I could not get outside until it was too late to stand in it until I was soaked. However, I have decided that this autumn and winter season, I will make sure to become soaked to the bone in precipitation of any sort at least 5 times. Your stares of consternation are becoming so intense, I can feel them from here, so I'll back up and explain.

Rain is my favorite type of weather. It facilitates creativity, and has such an amazing effect on my moods. To fully realize rain's creative potential, one must get out in it for as long as possible. When you can't get any wetter, you come back inside, change into dry clothes (but leave your hair wet), and sit down to record your inspiration. This is when I get my best ideas, both of the writing and musical persuasion. Thus, my hobby of standing in the rain to think. So when I decide to get soaked at least 5 times, I'm not being a crazy person, but instead making *great* contributions to art.

The practical result I get is, however, not the only reason I love rain. The sound of rain dripping from the roof and on the windows is relaxing, the sight of clouds is uplifting, and the solitude is to die for, since I'm usually the only one to stand out in the rain for long.

Keep raining,
B