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...
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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!
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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?!!
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ok so that was my day
February 27, 2005
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.
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