December 21, 2005
Ivory Chapter 1
Last week there was a needle in my arm. Actually it was three days ago- last Friday to be precise.
Dr. Burton assessed me the same way any doctor would give a patient an exam. He walked to me; he smiled and joked, snapped on gloves, adjusted his glasses, and went to work. I went through the “Say-ah’s” and “Can you feel this?” on queue responding and attentive. His nurse checked off all the little squares in the boxes, took my temperature and weight, and helped me tie my gown.
Then Burton set his thermometer down, exactly parallel to the sink, matching the stainless perfection of every piece of area in that room. He was chewing gum, and laughing with me. We were making the kind of jokes one makes at a coffee shop or at the barber’s. He asked me to open my mouth again. I smiled and did so, allowing him swab my back throat with a q-tip. He pulled out a microscope and looked at the sample. The chewing stopped as he focused. White teeth shifted over his lower lip, retreated back in…then came out again.
He looked up and me and said,
Well it looks like you’re all set. Thanks for coming in. Have a Merry Christmas!
The nurse handed me my clothes and soon I found myself walking through corridors, passing nurse after nurse after doctor after doctor after orderly after orderly. I opened the door and the sun hit me; it was warm. I smiled a goodbye to the receptionist and headed back to the office.
It was for my part, the smoothest hospital visit I have ever made.
Dr. Burton assessed me the same way any doctor would give a patient an exam. He walked to me; he smiled and joked, snapped on gloves, adjusted his glasses, and went to work. I went through the “Say-ah’s” and “Can you feel this?” on queue responding and attentive. His nurse checked off all the little squares in the boxes, took my temperature and weight, and helped me tie my gown.
Then Burton set his thermometer down, exactly parallel to the sink, matching the stainless perfection of every piece of area in that room. He was chewing gum, and laughing with me. We were making the kind of jokes one makes at a coffee shop or at the barber’s. He asked me to open my mouth again. I smiled and did so, allowing him swab my back throat with a q-tip. He pulled out a microscope and looked at the sample. The chewing stopped as he focused. White teeth shifted over his lower lip, retreated back in…then came out again.
He looked up and me and said,
Well it looks like you’re all set. Thanks for coming in. Have a Merry Christmas!
The nurse handed me my clothes and soon I found myself walking through corridors, passing nurse after nurse after doctor after doctor after orderly after orderly. I opened the door and the sun hit me; it was warm. I smiled a goodbye to the receptionist and headed back to the office.
It was for my part, the smoothest hospital visit I have ever made.
December 04, 2005
yada
yada
ok the rat's back!
i'm only going to post stuff i didn't time on to post, as in, i'll post verses or stories, but nothing beyond the limits of unintentional blogging.
no matter how much i hate sci fi, i'm always writing it even tho i hate to read it myself. sci fi is lazy writing! people excuse weirdness as imagination- it's not, it is a blank thrust at substance- it's lazy ignorance, someone who is capable of creating a good work but is just a dump at the research dep. Well, i'm not talking for all sci fi- but consider pop fiction today, it's sickly rushed, jumping to the "best" bites of reading without building reader anticipation, except that which already exists due to (dadada:) the title! (which sounds like "Blood! Gore!", or "Twisted Minds Reaper Eat", which doesn't even make grammatical sense, it's just some words that entices the bored AND lazy AND casaul, as in us, the average, overindulged american.
ok you can see that i'm wasting my time + plus that i'm a flaming political, out of the mainstream, extreme conservative, wild eyed, absolutist. (who's so sensible she has lost all capability of truced emotion, which is like, the most important thing of all!)
ok i watched pride and prejudice today. Too emotional and made-for-intentionally inflamed-America kind of style at just a few places. Otherwise, five stars for great acting, awesome lizzy, handsome rich dude, nice too-good-too-be-true material, a romantic film that i loved. i think the guys might appreciate this bc of the length of the film, as opposed to the six hour AE version (still the best, however)
well there i rant.
all's well ends well.
here's a little "sci fi" when i was trying so very hard to murder writer's block in it's bed:
Dusk settled into the blood red sky. The riders gathered around Madkin, the leader of the group. They gathered on the clifftops, Below the vultures finished the remains of the Kujan fighters. It had been a day of death.
“We must ride before sunset, Madkin,” said Punjabi Emcie, the leader’s close sidekick. He was an old man, dusted all over with brown leather skin. The villagers told Madkin that Punjabi was at least seventy. Madkin turned and smiled broadly at his men. “I gave my teeth away for money for the dentist.” The men laughed. “And now they think we will kill our men to win. Those idiots.”
Akonis was no man’s land. It was a home to three tribes. The Laskins lived in the East, the Kujanis in the Fadis Valley, and the people of Rafe, Madkin’s kind, dwelt in the sand brush of the West. The southern part of the desert was overrun by beasts. The beasts were evil little. If a man walked there he would be killed on the spot. All had a unique pact against Restapo the Emperor and against the wild coyote of Akonis. To the men, they represented a reason to live, a reason to fight for the sake of existence. A misstep in either the books or the paths of the desert meant quick silent death. Bones would be on high display either way. The bones of past men were more numerous than those still living off the land. Madkin’s grandmother told him the legend of the Desert. An angry and desolute emperor, named Alex Kabul, centuries past, had in a rage ordered the destruction of three nations. All the peoples of these nations were killed and left to rot on the fields they were slaughtered on. Three years later, Emperor Kabul ordered the bones to be ground to dust. That dust was dumped on Lunera, a dry and barren planet. That was the source of the sand. It was very fine, and there was always a faint scent of dried meat in the air. That was how Akonis grew. It flourished on death. The three tribes, were said to have evolved from the spirits of the ancestors in the dust. Whatever the similar fates, the tribes were far from united. The desert bred a sense of solitude and self reliance. The three tribes grew more inward and separate as time progressed.
The emperors had always made it hard on the people of Akonis. Taxes were burdensome and relentless. In order to avoid confusion, the council of Mataku allowed citizens to plead tax exempt. This was supposed to help the poorer citizens of the empire. However, for the men of Akonis, it was a matter of embarrassment. To even enter the Capital each year, they had to undergo “appearance treatment” every single time they needed recovery. In the long run, they barely saved any mullah, because the travel expenses almost amounted to tax they were trying so hard to avoid.
Madkin was the leader of the Rafe. He was young, strong, and violent. Madkin believed that Akonis could one day be united as a stronger power that could escape the timeless traditions of tax filing. His designs were good, but his methods were poor. With the help of petra leaves, he used the addictive soothing balm as a method to convince the young men of his clan to join his bloodbath. They roamed the countryside looking for anyone who would dare to deny their ideals and conforms. Slowly by slowly the other tribes were adding to the dust. Soon the emperor’s unthought plan would be complete, all under his unknown forces of exertion. Noone could have planned such a perfect picture of history that functioned as smoothly as this might. Kabul will finally be avenged.
ok the rat's back!
i'm only going to post stuff i didn't time on to post, as in, i'll post verses or stories, but nothing beyond the limits of unintentional blogging.
no matter how much i hate sci fi, i'm always writing it even tho i hate to read it myself. sci fi is lazy writing! people excuse weirdness as imagination- it's not, it is a blank thrust at substance- it's lazy ignorance, someone who is capable of creating a good work but is just a dump at the research dep. Well, i'm not talking for all sci fi- but consider pop fiction today, it's sickly rushed, jumping to the "best" bites of reading without building reader anticipation, except that which already exists due to (dadada:) the title! (which sounds like "Blood! Gore!", or "Twisted Minds Reaper Eat", which doesn't even make grammatical sense, it's just some words that entices the bored AND lazy AND casaul, as in us, the average, overindulged american.
ok you can see that i'm wasting my time + plus that i'm a flaming political, out of the mainstream, extreme conservative, wild eyed, absolutist. (who's so sensible she has lost all capability of truced emotion, which is like, the most important thing of all!)
ok i watched pride and prejudice today. Too emotional and made-for-intentionally inflamed-America kind of style at just a few places. Otherwise, five stars for great acting, awesome lizzy, handsome rich dude, nice too-good-too-be-true material, a romantic film that i loved. i think the guys might appreciate this bc of the length of the film, as opposed to the six hour AE version (still the best, however)
well there i rant.
all's well ends well.
here's a little "sci fi" when i was trying so very hard to murder writer's block in it's bed:
Dusk settled into the blood red sky. The riders gathered around Madkin, the leader of the group. They gathered on the clifftops, Below the vultures finished the remains of the Kujan fighters. It had been a day of death.
“We must ride before sunset, Madkin,” said Punjabi Emcie, the leader’s close sidekick. He was an old man, dusted all over with brown leather skin. The villagers told Madkin that Punjabi was at least seventy. Madkin turned and smiled broadly at his men. “I gave my teeth away for money for the dentist.” The men laughed. “And now they think we will kill our men to win. Those idiots.”
Akonis was no man’s land. It was a home to three tribes. The Laskins lived in the East, the Kujanis in the Fadis Valley, and the people of Rafe, Madkin’s kind, dwelt in the sand brush of the West. The southern part of the desert was overrun by beasts. The beasts were evil little. If a man walked there he would be killed on the spot. All had a unique pact against Restapo the Emperor and against the wild coyote of Akonis. To the men, they represented a reason to live, a reason to fight for the sake of existence. A misstep in either the books or the paths of the desert meant quick silent death. Bones would be on high display either way. The bones of past men were more numerous than those still living off the land. Madkin’s grandmother told him the legend of the Desert. An angry and desolute emperor, named Alex Kabul, centuries past, had in a rage ordered the destruction of three nations. All the peoples of these nations were killed and left to rot on the fields they were slaughtered on. Three years later, Emperor Kabul ordered the bones to be ground to dust. That dust was dumped on Lunera, a dry and barren planet. That was the source of the sand. It was very fine, and there was always a faint scent of dried meat in the air. That was how Akonis grew. It flourished on death. The three tribes, were said to have evolved from the spirits of the ancestors in the dust. Whatever the similar fates, the tribes were far from united. The desert bred a sense of solitude and self reliance. The three tribes grew more inward and separate as time progressed.
The emperors had always made it hard on the people of Akonis. Taxes were burdensome and relentless. In order to avoid confusion, the council of Mataku allowed citizens to plead tax exempt. This was supposed to help the poorer citizens of the empire. However, for the men of Akonis, it was a matter of embarrassment. To even enter the Capital each year, they had to undergo “appearance treatment” every single time they needed recovery. In the long run, they barely saved any mullah, because the travel expenses almost amounted to tax they were trying so hard to avoid.
Madkin was the leader of the Rafe. He was young, strong, and violent. Madkin believed that Akonis could one day be united as a stronger power that could escape the timeless traditions of tax filing. His designs were good, but his methods were poor. With the help of petra leaves, he used the addictive soothing balm as a method to convince the young men of his clan to join his bloodbath. They roamed the countryside looking for anyone who would dare to deny their ideals and conforms. Slowly by slowly the other tribes were adding to the dust. Soon the emperor’s unthought plan would be complete, all under his unknown forces of exertion. Noone could have planned such a perfect picture of history that functioned as smoothly as this might. Kabul will finally be avenged.
November 08, 2005
November 03, 2005
A Typical Day
A Typical Day in Flower Hill...Nothin much today. Here's a little scoop:
- Wake @ 7 AM
- Go to school at 8:15 for Bible Class w/ Mr B
- Studied at Starbucks for 2 hours
- Went to Calculus Class
- Went to the Somerville's for Latin Class
- Got home around 4 pm
- laid around and studied and dabbled in this and that
- Lit HW
- 8 PM Baked a cake for CO-op tomorrow
- Gave Joel a Mohawk
- Gave Kyle a Mohawk, turned in into a skinhead (Kyle is so cute!)
- Took some pictures of the grand scheme of things, and here they are (after all that writing list jazz)
- Had a short devotion
- Posting
- Will go to bed at midnight.
Pics:
Believe it or not, but on the other side of joel "indie rocker" look is SKIN!
Voila- the other side!
Kyle got emotional with the do and I rid the entire shabang
..."What you looking at, boy?"
Check out us punk rockers!
November 01, 2005
A Set Cake
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired!
when the bottom line drops, it's: i want to go to heavan
what an ungrateful wretch i am. i know i have far more than i deserve, yet i am exhausted and irritated. help me, oh lord.
when the bottom line drops, it's: i want to go to heavan
what an ungrateful wretch i am. i know i have far more than i deserve, yet i am exhausted and irritated. help me, oh lord.
Psalm 118:24
This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.
The King of Glory
A Psalm of David, Psalm 24
The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof,
A Psalm of David, Psalm 24
The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof,
the world and those who dwell therein,
for he has founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the rivers.
Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord?
Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord?
And who shall stand in his holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not lift up his soul to what is false
and does not swear deceitfully.
He will receive blessing from the Lord
and righteousness from the God of his salvation.
Such is the generation of those who seek him,
who seek the face of the God of Jacob.
Selah
Lift up your heads, O gates!
Lift up your heads, O gates!
And be lifted up, O ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The Lord, strong and mighty,
the Lord, mighty in battle!
Lift up your heads, O gates!
And lift them up, O ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The Lord of hosts,
he is the King of glory!
Selah
I guess i could start now... thank you, O Lord, for this beautiful earth...
October 31, 2005
Bob Dylan CD Review: No Direction Home: The Soundtrack (The Bootleg Series Vol. 7)
So I just bought this cd. All i can say is that i just don't get it. I mean, he's ok, but he's not phenomenal. Don't be offended when I say this, but maybe he was hip b/c there wern't that many to choose from. OR everyone was high and lacked good judgement. the whole strumming, singing, and harmonica contraption is really interesting. (observe old apple ad)the list price (at starbucks it is $22.95). it is a 2 disc set, with a thick booklet of pictures showing the various bedheads that mr. dylan sported in the course of his career. In reality, if all was all-in-all, i wouldn't have bought it. But since we baristas get 5o% off cd's this week, i split it 50-50 with my good friend shari.
not all the tracks are impressive and i find the harmonica edge a little annoying after a while.
September 29, 2005
SHOCKING
Humans are not "fetuses" They are infants. They look like infants, they have hearts that beat like infants, they cry like infants, and they were miraculously concieved like infants. THEY ARE INFANTS NOT "FETUSES"
read this story original link
Fetuses found at Bogota airport
Police said the fetuses might have been meant for Satanic ritualsColombian police have found the bodies of three human fetuses hidden in statues destined for the United States.
The discovery was made by officers searching for contraband at Bogota Airport on Tuesday.
The corpses were wrapped in plastic and concealed inside statues of Christian icons, which were smashed open.
Colombian police chief Gen Jord Alirio Varon said the four- to five-month-old fetuses could have been intended for use in Satanic rituals.
Gen Varon said the fetuses were found alongside crucifixes and medals.
He said officials are trying to find out who sent the packages, which came from Barranquilla in Colombia and were destined for Miami in the US.
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Printable version
read this story original link
Fetuses found at Bogota airport
Police said the fetuses might have been meant for Satanic ritualsColombian police have found the bodies of three human fetuses hidden in statues destined for the United States.
The discovery was made by officers searching for contraband at Bogota Airport on Tuesday.
The corpses were wrapped in plastic and concealed inside statues of Christian icons, which were smashed open.
Colombian police chief Gen Jord Alirio Varon said the four- to five-month-old fetuses could have been intended for use in Satanic rituals.
Gen Varon said the fetuses were found alongside crucifixes and medals.
He said officials are trying to find out who sent the packages, which came from Barranquilla in Colombia and were destined for Miami in the US.
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Printable version
July 09, 2005
a distant me
this morning i woke at 4 am since i had to open at starbucks at 5:15A. I ended up getting out of bed around 5:00A. negotiations had been made with my black belled alarm clock. when i finally turned on the light and looked at the wall clock i noticed i had been sleeping with the alarm clock. i have this wierd habit of turning it off and holding it while i sleep.
i had 15 min. to get ready for work. my nice old navy polo was not washed yet. so had grabbed another white polo that had a large coffee stain by the buttons. i looked in the mirror. i looked like crap. wow, have i ever been uglier? i asked myself. my face was so white. my eyes demanded slumber. cold water: splash, splash, then again. however, to no avail.
i walked in. mow let me in. there were only lights on by the bar. talisha looked at me, "what are you doing here?"
"to open," I responded.
"anna never called you then, cuz she just changed the schedule the other day."
next thing i knew i was stumbling back to the minivan, holding a grande skim latte.
5:45 sitting in the car in the driveway, listening to the radio music. lights are going on in the basement. mom is walking around. 5:55 listening to 99.5. I hate this station because of 1. the repetitive style music, 2. the kind of people who i can imagine listening to it, and 3. the whole blind stupidity of every song.
Went to the house and dropped into me bed. i was so cold and cozy. my back evaporated on the mattress. this is around 6 am. just when i was falling asleep. piano music, abrupt, loud, and definitive starts. joel is home. joel has strong fingers. piano fingers. voices. he brought someone home with him. talk about breaking 12 am curfew. it's 6! i tell mom i'm trying to sleep. the piano stops. then a guitar starts strumming. the piano starts going again. joel is tuning the guitar, with the piano. i give up.
drifting, not sleeping.
i can barely remember what i dream about...
i'm in another land. i think it's japan. they are speaking in japanese. they are looking for us. we are running away from them. on motorcycles. they keep coming so close. one night we hide in the countryside and stay with a friend who is a farmer. we are christians. somehow that is illegal, and they are the hand of the law. they have uniforms, like soldiers/cops. our farmer friend is found out. he is killed and we go to the mountains. the intense wilderness from ikego. except that it is vaster. so many hillside i can recall scraping along on. somehow the chase ends up in front of a huge hospital run by either midwives or nuns. the front entrance is for the ER. we scream. well, i do. a lady comes out and says, "This entrance is only for emergencys, and extremely injured people." I say, "we are, take us in." about 7 nuns run around and take us in, they take us in strechers, or we are just escorted in. the bad guys are left outside, gaping. as soon as we are inside the white doors we depart from the nuns. our group leader says, "we must hurry before they figure out what's going on and come in to get us." i run to the girl's bathroom, to shower and then stay in the hospital for the night. this hospital is looking more and more like a clean dorm. it's a mass bathroom, like a warehouse. makes me think of the holocaust. an alarm rings. they have gotten inside. i run... and that's as far as i can remember.
i had 15 min. to get ready for work. my nice old navy polo was not washed yet. so had grabbed another white polo that had a large coffee stain by the buttons. i looked in the mirror. i looked like crap. wow, have i ever been uglier? i asked myself. my face was so white. my eyes demanded slumber. cold water: splash, splash, then again. however, to no avail.
i walked in. mow let me in. there were only lights on by the bar. talisha looked at me, "what are you doing here?"
"to open," I responded.
"anna never called you then, cuz she just changed the schedule the other day."
next thing i knew i was stumbling back to the minivan, holding a grande skim latte.
5:45 sitting in the car in the driveway, listening to the radio music. lights are going on in the basement. mom is walking around. 5:55 listening to 99.5. I hate this station because of 1. the repetitive style music, 2. the kind of people who i can imagine listening to it, and 3. the whole blind stupidity of every song.
Went to the house and dropped into me bed. i was so cold and cozy. my back evaporated on the mattress. this is around 6 am. just when i was falling asleep. piano music, abrupt, loud, and definitive starts. joel is home. joel has strong fingers. piano fingers. voices. he brought someone home with him. talk about breaking 12 am curfew. it's 6! i tell mom i'm trying to sleep. the piano stops. then a guitar starts strumming. the piano starts going again. joel is tuning the guitar, with the piano. i give up.
drifting, not sleeping.
i can barely remember what i dream about...
i'm in another land. i think it's japan. they are speaking in japanese. they are looking for us. we are running away from them. on motorcycles. they keep coming so close. one night we hide in the countryside and stay with a friend who is a farmer. we are christians. somehow that is illegal, and they are the hand of the law. they have uniforms, like soldiers/cops. our farmer friend is found out. he is killed and we go to the mountains. the intense wilderness from ikego. except that it is vaster. so many hillside i can recall scraping along on. somehow the chase ends up in front of a huge hospital run by either midwives or nuns. the front entrance is for the ER. we scream. well, i do. a lady comes out and says, "This entrance is only for emergencys, and extremely injured people." I say, "we are, take us in." about 7 nuns run around and take us in, they take us in strechers, or we are just escorted in. the bad guys are left outside, gaping. as soon as we are inside the white doors we depart from the nuns. our group leader says, "we must hurry before they figure out what's going on and come in to get us." i run to the girl's bathroom, to shower and then stay in the hospital for the night. this hospital is looking more and more like a clean dorm. it's a mass bathroom, like a warehouse. makes me think of the holocaust. an alarm rings. they have gotten inside. i run... and that's as far as i can remember.
June 19, 2005
May 14, 2005
April 03, 2005
random thoughts
i am very selfish. look at me talking about myself. onion layers. i dont need complications. i need jesus, my one and only. ther i go w/ "me" again.
the main thing must stay the main thing. bc the main thing is what it is all about.
i wish i loved god more.
i want to feel the love of the father.
it is good to desire god, but not 4 emotional needs only.
wipe it all away so the cross can be seen. that.... is the main thing.
GOD is glorious indeed (no period required)
talking to a friend today. my heart is troubled. it is just like how i was not so long ago. a disgust, disdain, and scorn for all that is life. blindness is a true disease in america.
help us father. with materials, education, private property, freedom, the ability to do as we will:
yet it is a disgusting thing to look upon.
i am an unclean person among a nation of unclean lips
we need a savior, but how can there possibly be a way
jesus blows my mind. the name of all ages is he. praises must be lifted up
the main thing must stay the main thing. bc the main thing is what it is all about.
i wish i loved god more.
i want to feel the love of the father.
it is good to desire god, but not 4 emotional needs only.
wipe it all away so the cross can be seen. that.... is the main thing.
GOD is glorious indeed (no period required)
talking to a friend today. my heart is troubled. it is just like how i was not so long ago. a disgust, disdain, and scorn for all that is life. blindness is a true disease in america.
help us father. with materials, education, private property, freedom, the ability to do as we will:
yet it is a disgusting thing to look upon.
i am an unclean person among a nation of unclean lips
we need a savior, but how can there possibly be a way
jesus blows my mind. the name of all ages is he. praises must be lifted up
March 09, 2005
random thoughts -AAAAAH
I do write not to edify others, but to sort out my thoughts, to know with depth what I did think, and what I do think. I used to write stories for my brothers but only because I liked too. I liked to make them happy and then to laugh, both me and them. I liked the humor from random actions. But that's not the way life is. Rare is there a thoughtful human with face enough to cleave a sufficient amount of humor as perceived as those rounded, deep charactors in novels. Why do we believe the fantasies of others printed in story form, (so easily conveyed so that we can imagine like they do)? Every thought benifits to some sort of reaction, most possibly, action. Yet than we laugh at those who seem to be acting in thier random impulses. We laugh because it is not true. We laugh at its oddity. Imagine that! That he would say that to the older man- how random. And that is how we find ourselves humored by those kinds in the story. The romantic and unthinking novelist placed it there, and now he reaps benifits at the oddity of his statement. Yes, it's funny to see people run around in circles for no particular reason. But it isn't the way humans are made. The laws of natural liberty forbid it in every way. People seem to run around in circles for no particular reason, but it is so? Amazingly, every being on this earth has been born with remnants of glory. It's funny how they remember to make themselves gods, even with a missing hold on required power. And so they perceive themselves to be the greatest in thier eyes, consistently drawing comparisons to others around them. They will pride themselves over those they override, and advantageously look at those with more- of anything to be coveted. Over anything they can, but firstly themselves they will reign with that selfish ambition to achieve their own percieved good. "Go and make dominian over the earth", and so it is.
In the ultimate rerun of life, gods and goddesses, too many to count, fumble around in their quickly crumbling kingdoms. The one key to success, the one way to make themselves as so desired- to be gods, is the very object that they thrust away from themselves. And for eternity, they are the shining stain of history.
I wish it was summer again. Then I could be lazy and deserve to be so.
I would get up and lay in the sun and feel its warmth, praying to god for a good tan. I'd sit with Abby, and I'd read a classic and write mostly for the fun of it, making marks with my highlighter, to anything that caught my sight. And I'd drink water in a moist glass, water with floating ice cubes melted together. I can still feel the warm sun, and every moment, i am aware of the bright yellowness, like a blanket. And it's steamy. The trees are all ugly, with buzzing insects flitting from the rotting buds. They are dark green. One thing I'd wish for in the summer is for leaves to craft in summer, not in spring. And shades of bright green and yellow float around me.
That thing up there- it sucks.
In the ultimate rerun of life, gods and goddesses, too many to count, fumble around in their quickly crumbling kingdoms. The one key to success, the one way to make themselves as so desired- to be gods, is the very object that they thrust away from themselves. And for eternity, they are the shining stain of history.
I wish it was summer again. Then I could be lazy and deserve to be so.
I would get up and lay in the sun and feel its warmth, praying to god for a good tan. I'd sit with Abby, and I'd read a classic and write mostly for the fun of it, making marks with my highlighter, to anything that caught my sight. And I'd drink water in a moist glass, water with floating ice cubes melted together. I can still feel the warm sun, and every moment, i am aware of the bright yellowness, like a blanket. And it's steamy. The trees are all ugly, with buzzing insects flitting from the rotting buds. They are dark green. One thing I'd wish for in the summer is for leaves to craft in summer, not in spring. And shades of bright green and yellow float around me.
That thing up there- it sucks.
March 01, 2005
February 27, 2005
a day
Sunday, February 27, 2005
i know this i utterly random, but i will list a MENU for my post cuz it is so long:
1. hate rave (politely removed)
2. about today
3. some fun stuff that happened
4. how i drove into a mailbox this
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back to the stacks: well i had a lot of fun w/ beth 2day bcuz first we got to go to starbucks 4 devotions b4 church and it was so fab cuz we had corn flakes for breakfast in cute little bowls and i had my latte and beth had her frapp. i didn't know we were going to pray but we did, for most of the whole time and it was fab! i know that god has quite a sense of humor cuz he is always playing practical jokes on me and still blesses me and strengthens my trust on him thru his "blessings in disguise."
of course, it was a great message taught by j. harris. he also did some (apparently caffeine-triggered) dancing. wow the holy spirit is like dippiing our dry sponges in water to clean a window- how stupid was i not to rely on god b4?!alas, his mercies anew...
------------------------------------------------
well after going to beth's house for worship and prayer, us (beth, jen h., and me) decided to go get some ice cream. After driving around the lakeforest mall area/vicinity we finally found a place called "hersheys." blah-blah-blah and so forth we got ice cream etc...
however, while we were sitting at the kiddie table at hersheys we decided that we will encourage all the guys in the church to get "real" degrees at "real colleges," unlike mc and such.
good points:
1. we want godly RICH husbands
2. clc will become a "poor" church (rich in god, but all the cg leaders will be trashmen, etc..)
3. and selfish reasons (>uh add some profound points here<)
honestly tho, a dilligent christian should go and be a lawyer- to banish the world of frivilous lawsuits, to overturn roe vs. wade, etc. my only conclusion is that the guys should go get "real" degrees, and not at mc. hey- we're not asking for harvard or anything, come on!
I declare- we will convert all the guys to go to patrick henry, all getting degrees as lawyers. they shall become the giant army of godly justice prevailers. bill clinton would turn over in his grave- oops did i just say that? ok i meant the liberal brainwashers.well the point i hope is made: girls unite and convert!
------------------------------------------------
SO I KNOCKED OVER A MAILBOX>>>the funniest thing happened today! (this proves my handicap at driving) between trying to exit a neighborhood driving a bmw, and attempting to set up my griffin fm transmitter on my ipod, i looked down for an extended period of time while moving. i heard a BUMP!, and looked up while slamming the brakes: my bright headlight was pressing its beady eyes upon a large wooden mailbox, all set up with that washington post box thingy. then i thought "o boy, im in for it now..."
my first temptation was to drive away (stupid me, but anyhow, amazingly, i reversed the car and got out to notify the owners. (i swear if i wasn't a xian i wouldn't have done this.) well the sign at the front said the doorbell was broke, and nobody answered when i knocked. i walked around blindly several when i finally found a door in the back. and then i talked to this elderly lady and the whole time she was dazed or something. well i gave her my number just in case she wanted to sue or anything and when i went outside, i propped the mailbox back into the dirt and stabbed some sticks into the hole to keep the box up.
i drove home kinda "distraught", and fortunately for me, my parents weren't sooo shocked because right b4 i came home my brother joel had come home with a speed ticket for going 20 miles over- him and his stick shift lil' beemer... well i hoped he learned his lesson cuz i learned mine!Boy, are we one destructive family or what?!!
------------------------------------------------
ok so that was my day
i know this i utterly random, but i will list a MENU for my post cuz it is so long:
1. hate rave (politely removed)
2. about today
3. some fun stuff that happened
4. how i drove into a mailbox this
------------------------------------------------
back to the stacks: well i had a lot of fun w/ beth 2day bcuz first we got to go to starbucks 4 devotions b4 church and it was so fab cuz we had corn flakes for breakfast in cute little bowls and i had my latte and beth had her frapp. i didn't know we were going to pray but we did, for most of the whole time and it was fab! i know that god has quite a sense of humor cuz he is always playing practical jokes on me and still blesses me and strengthens my trust on him thru his "blessings in disguise."
of course, it was a great message taught by j. harris. he also did some (apparently caffeine-triggered) dancing. wow the holy spirit is like dippiing our dry sponges in water to clean a window- how stupid was i not to rely on god b4?!alas, his mercies anew...
------------------------------------------------
well after going to beth's house for worship and prayer, us (beth, jen h., and me) decided to go get some ice cream. After driving around the lakeforest mall area/vicinity we finally found a place called "hersheys." blah-blah-blah and so forth we got ice cream etc...
however, while we were sitting at the kiddie table at hersheys we decided that we will encourage all the guys in the church to get "real" degrees at "real colleges," unlike mc and such.
good points:
1. we want godly RICH husbands
2. clc will become a "poor" church (rich in god, but all the cg leaders will be trashmen, etc..)
3. and selfish reasons (>uh add some profound points here<)
honestly tho, a dilligent christian should go and be a lawyer- to banish the world of frivilous lawsuits, to overturn roe vs. wade, etc. my only conclusion is that the guys should go get "real" degrees, and not at mc. hey- we're not asking for harvard or anything, come on!
I declare- we will convert all the guys to go to patrick henry, all getting degrees as lawyers. they shall become the giant army of godly justice prevailers. bill clinton would turn over in his grave- oops did i just say that? ok i meant the liberal brainwashers.well the point i hope is made: girls unite and convert!
------------------------------------------------
SO I KNOCKED OVER A MAILBOX>>>the funniest thing happened today! (this proves my handicap at driving) between trying to exit a neighborhood driving a bmw, and attempting to set up my griffin fm transmitter on my ipod, i looked down for an extended period of time while moving. i heard a BUMP!, and looked up while slamming the brakes: my bright headlight was pressing its beady eyes upon a large wooden mailbox, all set up with that washington post box thingy. then i thought "o boy, im in for it now..."
my first temptation was to drive away (stupid me, but anyhow, amazingly, i reversed the car and got out to notify the owners. (i swear if i wasn't a xian i wouldn't have done this.) well the sign at the front said the doorbell was broke, and nobody answered when i knocked. i walked around blindly several when i finally found a door in the back. and then i talked to this elderly lady and the whole time she was dazed or something. well i gave her my number just in case she wanted to sue or anything and when i went outside, i propped the mailbox back into the dirt and stabbed some sticks into the hole to keep the box up.
i drove home kinda "distraught", and fortunately for me, my parents weren't sooo shocked because right b4 i came home my brother joel had come home with a speed ticket for going 20 miles over- him and his stick shift lil' beemer... well i hoped he learned his lesson cuz i learned mine!Boy, are we one destructive family or what?!!
------------------------------------------------
ok so that was my day
February 24, 2005
Announcement for Music Project
I just decided i will make a new album series called the indie legacy AND it will rock. I will feature artists such as:
John Vanderslice
The Capital Years
Carbon Leaf
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
ETC!
John Vanderslice
The Capital Years
Carbon Leaf
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
ETC!
February 22, 2005
Well one of my new year's resolutions have been accomplished- at the bottom of this page when i started the blog on jan 1st i said i wanted to get a job at starbucks and now i do so i'm am gratefull to him. well starbucks is good cuz it's only 3 min. from my house and i like the people ther. shannon rocks. hyper little insect is the buzzing music to my ear when the day decides to drag its pitiful little legs inside to stay till the end of my shift. just kiddding but tho- shannon is like moss that grows.. i think the lord has placed her on my heart cuz for reasons of eternity... well in conclusion, i say, champagne on ice around the swollen circle of likenesses for strike X on that reso. 
February 02, 2005
February 01, 2005
Story of my Life
This will be the story of my life, to be continued
This is the story of my life.
I was born in the tatami floor room of a Japanese midwife’s home. It was around five o’ clock in the morning in Tokyo, Japan when I entered the world. My mom told me I was the easiest birth she had among four children. My name is Ioanna Lily Ann Cornett. I was named after two people. Ioanna Dicks was a young model and translator. She was a strong outspoken Christian, translated sermons on Sunday, and a friend of my parents. Ioanna Dicks was a bilingual in Japanese and English. Her father was
My parents dedicated me to the Lord at International Christian Assembly. The church met at The American Club in Tokyo, Japan. There were about 250 people in the church.
My grandmother’s name is Darlene Ellen Ann Cornett, so mine is Lily Ann Cornett.
Joel was always right. To me and my younger brother Micah, he was the coolest brother anyone could have. I was five, Micah was four, and Joel was seven. Whenever I or Micah had a question, we would go to him.
“Joel, how much is infinity?”
“Oh it’s a big number. If I spent a long time, I could count to infinity. It’s kinda like a million,” he would reply.
And then would come the voice in awed understanding: “Oh, I see.”
“Joel, could men have babies?”
“Well it happens sometimes, although it’s kinda rare. Ladies like having babies more than men.” And so it went.
Joel told us about turtles, animals in Africa, and why the moon had holes. He told me that angels walked the earth and helped Christians stranded on roads with busted tires. I think that happened to us once. The old car we riding in had suddenly died on an exit ramp on a highway. A man appeared out of nowhere and fixed our car for us. Right before he just walked off, he said, “God bless you.” My mom and Joel talked in low voices, and Joel concluded, “Yes, that man who helped us was most likely and angel from God.”
Of everything we queried, Joel had an answer. Sometimes he didn’t know, so then he would come up with a theory, and we’d take it as fact. Since as long as he could write, he carried a notebook and a pen in his hand,. Ever since my dad bought him the 101 Electronics in 1 Kit, Joel talked about circuits, drawing all sorts of funny diagrams in those notebooks of his. I remember looking at a notebook once. Lists of weapons, stories he started to write- never finished, and lots of drawings of circuits. It bored me, but for Joel, it was spark interest.
My family lived in a small apartment in San Clemente, California. Joel and I attended Our Savior Lutheran School. Joel was in the 2nd grade and the youngest boy in his class. I was in kindergarten, and Micah was in Preschool. The one thing I most remember talking about at school was the greatness of Barney. But Joel shunned Barney, as well as the Power Rangers, so I shunned them too.
to be continued...
This is the story of my life.
I was born in the tatami floor room of a Japanese midwife’s home. It was around five o’ clock in the morning in Tokyo, Japan when I entered the world. My mom told me I was the easiest birth she had among four children. My name is Ioanna Lily Ann Cornett. I was named after two people. Ioanna Dicks was a young model and translator. She was a strong outspoken Christian, translated sermons on Sunday, and a friend of my parents. Ioanna Dicks was a bilingual in Japanese and English. Her father was
My parents dedicated me to the Lord at International Christian Assembly. The church met at The American Club in Tokyo, Japan. There were about 250 people in the church.
My grandmother’s name is Darlene Ellen Ann Cornett, so mine is Lily Ann Cornett.
Joel was always right. To me and my younger brother Micah, he was the coolest brother anyone could have. I was five, Micah was four, and Joel was seven. Whenever I or Micah had a question, we would go to him.
“Joel, how much is infinity?”
“Oh it’s a big number. If I spent a long time, I could count to infinity. It’s kinda like a million,” he would reply.
And then would come the voice in awed understanding: “Oh, I see.”
“Joel, could men have babies?”
“Well it happens sometimes, although it’s kinda rare. Ladies like having babies more than men.” And so it went.
Joel told us about turtles, animals in Africa, and why the moon had holes. He told me that angels walked the earth and helped Christians stranded on roads with busted tires. I think that happened to us once. The old car we riding in had suddenly died on an exit ramp on a highway. A man appeared out of nowhere and fixed our car for us. Right before he just walked off, he said, “God bless you.” My mom and Joel talked in low voices, and Joel concluded, “Yes, that man who helped us was most likely and angel from God.”
Of everything we queried, Joel had an answer. Sometimes he didn’t know, so then he would come up with a theory, and we’d take it as fact. Since as long as he could write, he carried a notebook and a pen in his hand,. Ever since my dad bought him the 101 Electronics in 1 Kit, Joel talked about circuits, drawing all sorts of funny diagrams in those notebooks of his. I remember looking at a notebook once. Lists of weapons, stories he started to write- never finished, and lots of drawings of circuits. It bored me, but for Joel, it was spark interest.
My family lived in a small apartment in San Clemente, California. Joel and I attended Our Savior Lutheran School. Joel was in the 2nd grade and the youngest boy in his class. I was in kindergarten, and Micah was in Preschool. The one thing I most remember talking about at school was the greatness of Barney. But Joel shunned Barney, as well as the Power Rangers, so I shunned them too.
to be continued...
The sucky one that died...
Killed idea-grimace and enjoi:
Oscar Wilder was twenty-one and invincible. When he walked in the streets, he would kick lay-by cans and sneer at small children playing. On a mission of accomplishment, he seemed to have air vents in his tennis shoes, as he would glide and hover through the streets. Wilder’s home was scantily plaid, a shabby two bedroom adorned with dump furniture. He lived in Manhatten, Duvall Street, by the dry cleaners. Like an eternal conflict, the strong odor of the chemicals diffused the rust and smoke, ever burning. He was built tall, square, and compact. He liked to walk. Every morning he would walk in his faded brown coat. Enter in, exit, and walk some more. Not the kind to balk for quarters, yet since an easy buck means food, Oscar found himself constantly running errands. So much that he began to relish the lifestyle of a drifter. No friends, no family, no future, yet inside he was satisfied with hoping. Maybe he would see a shining star right over the hill he was walking up. As the weeks would drag by, it seemed more like crawling on a treadmill that was going a mile per hour. Different jobs and paths, yet the same old thing occurred in mass mocking.
In his heart he was slightly troubled and confused, but not to the point of breaking his composure.
Friday was rainy. Wilder sat on his shabby coach and smoked a busted cigar. Brown puff rings floated up the cracked ceiling. Water dripped in 4-second intervals and a static radio declared the Panthers to a loss. In a city so big, yet so alone. His heart was too cold to cry. He quietly lifted his hands and pretended to be a bird. Think of the feathers that are so small and light. The wind blowing through the white blur of wings. “If I was a bird, I would fly to the sun.” The sun would be bright and big and yellow. It would smell like a hot day, like a banana smoothie. The beach. With sand, and blue water. The beach would be salty. The sound of the waves would be salty. And still standing would be the sun, like a blanket. April Fool’s day. It was still raining.
He got up and looked out the blinds. Mr. Donovan was taking his trash out. Wilder banged the glass. “Hey! You get off my lawn! You hear me?”
The old man looked up and smiled. He picked up the bags and exited, closing the gate behind him. “Old dope like him. They need to stick in a place or something,” muttered Wilder.
He was surprised at how cold it was outside. A bucket with rain water by the deck had frozen over. The smell of chinese drifted over, spicy chicken and all that jazz.
“I’m gonna get an #18,” and again, he was walking for the sake to walk on his stomach.
Mr. Won was not exactly brilliant. Latin Americans do not have such a bold taste for Asian food that cost twice as much as the desired burger n fries. And still, there it stood, a torn corner place with blinking lights and coupon specials every week.
Oscar Wilder was twenty-one and invincible. When he walked in the streets, he would kick lay-by cans and sneer at small children playing. On a mission of accomplishment, he seemed to have air vents in his tennis shoes, as he would glide and hover through the streets. Wilder’s home was scantily plaid, a shabby two bedroom adorned with dump furniture. He lived in Manhatten, Duvall Street, by the dry cleaners. Like an eternal conflict, the strong odor of the chemicals diffused the rust and smoke, ever burning. He was built tall, square, and compact. He liked to walk. Every morning he would walk in his faded brown coat. Enter in, exit, and walk some more. Not the kind to balk for quarters, yet since an easy buck means food, Oscar found himself constantly running errands. So much that he began to relish the lifestyle of a drifter. No friends, no family, no future, yet inside he was satisfied with hoping. Maybe he would see a shining star right over the hill he was walking up. As the weeks would drag by, it seemed more like crawling on a treadmill that was going a mile per hour. Different jobs and paths, yet the same old thing occurred in mass mocking.
In his heart he was slightly troubled and confused, but not to the point of breaking his composure.
Friday was rainy. Wilder sat on his shabby coach and smoked a busted cigar. Brown puff rings floated up the cracked ceiling. Water dripped in 4-second intervals and a static radio declared the Panthers to a loss. In a city so big, yet so alone. His heart was too cold to cry. He quietly lifted his hands and pretended to be a bird. Think of the feathers that are so small and light. The wind blowing through the white blur of wings. “If I was a bird, I would fly to the sun.” The sun would be bright and big and yellow. It would smell like a hot day, like a banana smoothie. The beach. With sand, and blue water. The beach would be salty. The sound of the waves would be salty. And still standing would be the sun, like a blanket. April Fool’s day. It was still raining.
He got up and looked out the blinds. Mr. Donovan was taking his trash out. Wilder banged the glass. “Hey! You get off my lawn! You hear me?”
The old man looked up and smiled. He picked up the bags and exited, closing the gate behind him. “Old dope like him. They need to stick in a place or something,” muttered Wilder.
He was surprised at how cold it was outside. A bucket with rain water by the deck had frozen over. The smell of chinese drifted over, spicy chicken and all that jazz.
“I’m gonna get an #18,” and again, he was walking for the sake to walk on his stomach.
Mr. Won was not exactly brilliant. Latin Americans do not have such a bold taste for Asian food that cost twice as much as the desired burger n fries. And still, there it stood, a torn corner place with blinking lights and coupon specials every week.
January 03, 2005
Today, School again
Back to my books. Back to the monotone voice of the instructer, somewhere in the back of my head. But I'm not done celebrating New Year's!
And life continues, distraught by cuts in momentary bouts of deliverence, from pleasure or from displeasure.
I am a turtle, and God is moving me around.
And life continues, distraught by cuts in momentary bouts of deliverence, from pleasure or from displeasure.
I am a turtle, and God is moving me around.
January 02, 2005
thoughts in wanting of freedom
I think that it is fun to be a free liver who wanders around, skimming around on the whims of emotion. Or would that be living hell? Sometimes all those things that look so pretty when they are tied to our wrists so we don't have to grip so hard might be bad. How can we chase another fury if our wrists cannot be untied by ourselves? Who will come and loosen our bonds when we tire of the game?
Maybe if I had a reset button in my head. If I was in the height of dillusions I could magically reference back and poof! - I'm running after something else.
Why am I the chaser? I could be a leader. But where would I lead? And who would I lead? If I fall to err, as I do often in emotional pursuits, (how can chocolate be vanilla?), all will err. I could not bring myself to lead until I am confident and satisfied in sense of the way I traverse.
Why do I long to wander still? It is a dangerous habit, sure to kill. It's like walking in a dark alley, exciting in being scared, not knowing what's going to happen. It's like going on the scariest rides at the carnival, loosening my seetbelt leaning out to the very edge, and wondering what it would be like to just drop so high.
If jumping off cliffs wouldn't kill you, I'd do it all the time. So then I'll skydive when I grow up.BTW, here is a video of skydivers:
http://www.w2knews.com/rd/rd.cfm?id=041115FA-Base_Jumping
(david calls like a bird.)
g2g
Maybe if I had a reset button in my head. If I was in the height of dillusions I could magically reference back and poof! - I'm running after something else.
Why am I the chaser? I could be a leader. But where would I lead? And who would I lead? If I fall to err, as I do often in emotional pursuits, (how can chocolate be vanilla?), all will err. I could not bring myself to lead until I am confident and satisfied in sense of the way I traverse.
Why do I long to wander still? It is a dangerous habit, sure to kill. It's like walking in a dark alley, exciting in being scared, not knowing what's going to happen. It's like going on the scariest rides at the carnival, loosening my seetbelt leaning out to the very edge, and wondering what it would be like to just drop so high.
If jumping off cliffs wouldn't kill you, I'd do it all the time. So then I'll skydive when I grow up.BTW, here is a video of skydivers:
http://www.w2knews.com/rd/rd.cfm?id=041115FA-Base_Jumping
(david calls like a bird.)
g2g
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