Friday, December 15, 2006
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Merry Christmas from Burger King
I've been laughing at this for 3 Christmases. If you haven't seen it yet, now is the time.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
On Swearing
[If you're offended by swearing, perhaps you shouldn't read this article by Ben Rogers. Same goes if you don't appreciate good satire.]
Let’s be honest with ourselves. We all get angry. Anger is a natural part of our daily lives. For most people, anger may be felt once or twice a day. For those more serious about their religion, it may be felt a greater number of times. Like 4,000. One of the ways we express our angry feelings is with words. Bad words.
I get so offended when people swear in front of me. It hurts my ears, and it makes me feel bad for them. The Bible tells us to feel bad for people who aren’t Christians.
However, being a Christian myself, I refuse to swear. That is heathen talk. Profanity. The word profane means “of the common people.” Do you really want to be associated with common folk? Of course not. No good Christian in his right mind would. I mean as Christians we are supposed to be elevated above the common folk. That is also why I am a Republican, amen.
But I had a problem. How was I to express all this anger? I couldn’t say those bad words, so I had to figure out something else.
I thought about using euphemisms, like calling the toll booth operator a female dog, or the guy at Burger King a fatherless child, or an anus, or a bowel movement-head. But that would simply reduce my intended word-blitz from volatile verbiage to little more than an aborted word-eunuch.
Then it hit me: letters. Yes! Instead of actually saying the profane words that dribble so abundantly over the drunken, slutty, cold sore-encrusted lips of the un-churched, I could simply designate a letter to represent each hateful member of Satan’s lexicon.
Now I can say what I mean, without really saying what I mean. You know what I mean? This also helps when singing along to the Tupac album my mom doesn’t know I have.
If I get angry with someone, I just say, “F you,” and they know that not only am I a follower of Christ, but that I also mean business and will not hesitate to take them out.
Frickin’ sweet, huh? (Frick is OK to say too.)
Sometimes when I get angry, I say to myself, “D it.” If I am extra mad I might say, “This is F-ing BS.” One time, and I thought this was rather creative, I told my mom she was a SFCWOS. My letter tirade was so potent that she was struck dumb, probably by the Spirit, and stood in the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face, probably wondering how I’d managed to so completely berate her while maintaining such a glorious level of piety. Though she still won’t admit it, she knows I’m bad-A.
And this is great because it is somehow within acceptable bounds. Plus I don’t have to be associated with the heathens who utter such nasty words like on my CDs, and in the movies, and on TV, and on the subway, and when I talk to people that don’t go to my church.
Letter cussing is just like Jesus in a way. It frees us from the bondage of verbal sin that has previously enslaved so many. No longer are we bound to the archaic, traditional four-letter words that still sprinkle the language of our linguistically Paleolithic peers. No longer must we actually articulate the demon-words.
We are evolving (socially, of course. Don’t be silly).
By thinking of the dirty word we want to convey, then saying the corresponding letter, everyone else thinks the dirty word too. That way, we are all on the same page as far as just what the speaker means without compromising our salvation. It’s almost like a code.
And, in case you are worried, think-swearing is not a sin. Everyone knows that it’s only bad to swear out loud because it decays the very fibers of our ears, then our minds, and ultimately our souls. When we think swear, the filth is contained in our minds, so it doesn’t have a chance to gain the necessary momentum that allows audible swearing to travel down our ear canal, through our aural nerves, into our brain, then through our brain, and finally into our soul, leaving a nasty brown stain for all eternity. And no amount of Oxy-clean or Shout can bleach out these embarrassing stains. Believe me. I’ve heard of people who have tried. Letter swearing prevents all this by trapping the staining filth in the safe, tightly closed dungeons of our minds.
I know Jesus said that when we lust in our minds it is the same as actually committing adultery, but this is a totally F-ing different deal.
Plus, how could it be a sin to say a letter. A letter is just a part of our language. But words, however, are totally different from letters, even though they are made of letters and also a part of language. Swear words are even more different. They are on a whole other level. Swear words are level ten, regular words are level five, and letters are level three. I have outlined the different levels of language below to help you understand what I am talking about.
Level 10
Swear Words
Books
Film
Theater
Written Speeches
Poetry
Song lyrics
Level 9
Television
Newspapers
Magazines
Level 8
Pamphlets, fliers, billboards, etc.
Paragraphs
Level 7
Sentences
Foreign words and phrases:“Que sera, sera” “Chalupa”
Level 6
Popular catch phrases and slogans
Level 5
Regular Words
Level 4
Abbreviations and shorthand
Level 3
Letters
Level 2
Punctuation
“Goosebumps” books
Level 1
Spaces in between words and sentences
The levels are divided based on the criteria of complexity and vulgarity quotient (Potential to offend). The higher the level, the higher the VQ. The higher the VQ, the more powerfully offensive the language could be if handled irresponsibly. I actually thought about creating a level 11 just for swear words since they offend 100% of the time, but I felt compelled to maintain the integrity of the table.
Logically, as we move down the table, the potential damage inflicted by offensive language in each level decreases until we reach level 4, which is the last level to have a VQ. All the elements of language in levels three to one are incapable of offending, excepting only the “Goosebumps” books.
So you can see, logically, why letters are never offensive, regardless of what their intended meaning is.
Abbreviations, surprisingly are still capable of offending. If they weren’t I suppose we would be abbreviation cussing, rather than letter cussing. Believe me, if I didn’t feel such a moral repugnance for abbreviation cussing, I would be doing it constantly. Alas, we can see all too clearly that abbreviations can indeed be used for evil.
On a side note, if you are reading this, and are really struggling with saying bad words, try limiting yourself to using only levels three and below for at least six months. After that, you should be totally rehabilitated. Prayer during this time would be useless, however, because God ignores all level six prayers and lower.
There is one bad word that Christians are allowed to say, and it too serves as a suitable substitute for all those nasty words: crap. We can even say this one in front of preachers!
There are a multitude of variations for this Swiss army knife of Christian cussing enthusiasts:
“This is crappy.”
“I feel like crap.”
“I’m sick of eating the same fricking crap for lunch.” (Don’t forget that frick is OK too.)
My all-time favorite: “What the crap?”
Some people have asked me while I was doing all this research why these substitutes are acceptable, since they mean the same things as the more objectionable words they replace. When someone asks you a stupid question like this, just do like I do, and tell them to stop being such an F-ing smart A.
It’s not even worthwhile to debate whether or not swearing is as grievous a sin as we make it out to be. Of course it is. I mean, there are words that can be said in substitute (Instead of F, copulate; S is poop, and H is Sheol). This is perfectly acceptable.
What we need to remember about bad language and letter-cussing is that it’s not what we mean that is a sin. Nor is it the spirit of anger towards our brothers and sisters with which the words are uttered. But rather it is the particular combination of letters that God finds objectionable.
And if you disagree, then go F yourself.
Let’s be honest with ourselves. We all get angry. Anger is a natural part of our daily lives. For most people, anger may be felt once or twice a day. For those more serious about their religion, it may be felt a greater number of times. Like 4,000. One of the ways we express our angry feelings is with words. Bad words.
I get so offended when people swear in front of me. It hurts my ears, and it makes me feel bad for them. The Bible tells us to feel bad for people who aren’t Christians.
However, being a Christian myself, I refuse to swear. That is heathen talk. Profanity. The word profane means “of the common people.” Do you really want to be associated with common folk? Of course not. No good Christian in his right mind would. I mean as Christians we are supposed to be elevated above the common folk. That is also why I am a Republican, amen.
But I had a problem. How was I to express all this anger? I couldn’t say those bad words, so I had to figure out something else.
I thought about using euphemisms, like calling the toll booth operator a female dog, or the guy at Burger King a fatherless child, or an anus, or a bowel movement-head. But that would simply reduce my intended word-blitz from volatile verbiage to little more than an aborted word-eunuch.
Then it hit me: letters. Yes! Instead of actually saying the profane words that dribble so abundantly over the drunken, slutty, cold sore-encrusted lips of the un-churched, I could simply designate a letter to represent each hateful member of Satan’s lexicon.
Now I can say what I mean, without really saying what I mean. You know what I mean? This also helps when singing along to the Tupac album my mom doesn’t know I have.
If I get angry with someone, I just say, “F you,” and they know that not only am I a follower of Christ, but that I also mean business and will not hesitate to take them out.
Frickin’ sweet, huh? (Frick is OK to say too.)
Sometimes when I get angry, I say to myself, “D it.” If I am extra mad I might say, “This is F-ing BS.” One time, and I thought this was rather creative, I told my mom she was a SFCWOS. My letter tirade was so potent that she was struck dumb, probably by the Spirit, and stood in the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face, probably wondering how I’d managed to so completely berate her while maintaining such a glorious level of piety. Though she still won’t admit it, she knows I’m bad-A.
And this is great because it is somehow within acceptable bounds. Plus I don’t have to be associated with the heathens who utter such nasty words like on my CDs, and in the movies, and on TV, and on the subway, and when I talk to people that don’t go to my church.
Letter cussing is just like Jesus in a way. It frees us from the bondage of verbal sin that has previously enslaved so many. No longer are we bound to the archaic, traditional four-letter words that still sprinkle the language of our linguistically Paleolithic peers. No longer must we actually articulate the demon-words.
We are evolving (socially, of course. Don’t be silly).
By thinking of the dirty word we want to convey, then saying the corresponding letter, everyone else thinks the dirty word too. That way, we are all on the same page as far as just what the speaker means without compromising our salvation. It’s almost like a code.
And, in case you are worried, think-swearing is not a sin. Everyone knows that it’s only bad to swear out loud because it decays the very fibers of our ears, then our minds, and ultimately our souls. When we think swear, the filth is contained in our minds, so it doesn’t have a chance to gain the necessary momentum that allows audible swearing to travel down our ear canal, through our aural nerves, into our brain, then through our brain, and finally into our soul, leaving a nasty brown stain for all eternity. And no amount of Oxy-clean or Shout can bleach out these embarrassing stains. Believe me. I’ve heard of people who have tried. Letter swearing prevents all this by trapping the staining filth in the safe, tightly closed dungeons of our minds.
I know Jesus said that when we lust in our minds it is the same as actually committing adultery, but this is a totally F-ing different deal.
Plus, how could it be a sin to say a letter. A letter is just a part of our language. But words, however, are totally different from letters, even though they are made of letters and also a part of language. Swear words are even more different. They are on a whole other level. Swear words are level ten, regular words are level five, and letters are level three. I have outlined the different levels of language below to help you understand what I am talking about.
Level 10
Swear Words
Books
Film
Theater
Written Speeches
Poetry
Song lyrics
Level 9
Television
Newspapers
Magazines
Level 8
Pamphlets, fliers, billboards, etc.
Paragraphs
Level 7
Sentences
Foreign words and phrases:“Que sera, sera” “Chalupa”
Level 6
Popular catch phrases and slogans
Level 5
Regular Words
Level 4
Abbreviations and shorthand
Level 3
Letters
Level 2
Punctuation
“Goosebumps” books
Level 1
Spaces in between words and sentences
The levels are divided based on the criteria of complexity and vulgarity quotient (Potential to offend). The higher the level, the higher the VQ. The higher the VQ, the more powerfully offensive the language could be if handled irresponsibly. I actually thought about creating a level 11 just for swear words since they offend 100% of the time, but I felt compelled to maintain the integrity of the table.
Logically, as we move down the table, the potential damage inflicted by offensive language in each level decreases until we reach level 4, which is the last level to have a VQ. All the elements of language in levels three to one are incapable of offending, excepting only the “Goosebumps” books.
So you can see, logically, why letters are never offensive, regardless of what their intended meaning is.
Abbreviations, surprisingly are still capable of offending. If they weren’t I suppose we would be abbreviation cussing, rather than letter cussing. Believe me, if I didn’t feel such a moral repugnance for abbreviation cussing, I would be doing it constantly. Alas, we can see all too clearly that abbreviations can indeed be used for evil.
On a side note, if you are reading this, and are really struggling with saying bad words, try limiting yourself to using only levels three and below for at least six months. After that, you should be totally rehabilitated. Prayer during this time would be useless, however, because God ignores all level six prayers and lower.
There is one bad word that Christians are allowed to say, and it too serves as a suitable substitute for all those nasty words: crap. We can even say this one in front of preachers!
There are a multitude of variations for this Swiss army knife of Christian cussing enthusiasts:
“This is crappy.”
“I feel like crap.”
“I’m sick of eating the same fricking crap for lunch.” (Don’t forget that frick is OK too.)
My all-time favorite: “What the crap?”
Some people have asked me while I was doing all this research why these substitutes are acceptable, since they mean the same things as the more objectionable words they replace. When someone asks you a stupid question like this, just do like I do, and tell them to stop being such an F-ing smart A.
It’s not even worthwhile to debate whether or not swearing is as grievous a sin as we make it out to be. Of course it is. I mean, there are words that can be said in substitute (Instead of F, copulate; S is poop, and H is Sheol). This is perfectly acceptable.
What we need to remember about bad language and letter-cussing is that it’s not what we mean that is a sin. Nor is it the spirit of anger towards our brothers and sisters with which the words are uttered. But rather it is the particular combination of letters that God finds objectionable.
And if you disagree, then go F yourself.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Completely Hooked
I hadn't seen the first season of Prison Break, except for a few scenes here and there while flipping through channels. Boy, was I missing out. While I wait for January 22 to finally come, I'm catching up on what I missed, starting with the first 12 episodes on DivX. No commercials! I watched at least 4 episodes last night and had to tear myself away to finally go to bed.
Forget making Christmas cards and putting up my tree; all I want to do is watch Prison Break.
Such a junkie. What to do once there are no more episodes and I'm in withdrawl? Prison Break Rehab? Comment and tell me if you'll join me there. :)
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
O (My Goodness!) Holy Night
Today marks the first of my Christmas-themed posts. I say that to whet your appetite for more, but truth be told, this may be the only one. Guess you'll just have to keep checking back to see, won't ya?
One of my favorite review/ponder/inform sites, the Burnside Writers Collective, has a new Christmas feature, a stunning rendition of O Holy Night.
Click here and scroll down a bit to press play. You'll be so glad you did. You may indeed fall on your knees...
One of my favorite review/ponder/inform sites, the Burnside Writers Collective, has a new Christmas feature, a stunning rendition of O Holy Night.
Click here and scroll down a bit to press play. You'll be so glad you did. You may indeed fall on your knees...
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Say Hello to my Home. "Hello, Home."
Thursday, August 24, 2006
When You Live With Your Sister
I finally grew up and moved out of my parents' house; and now I've been a grown up for 3 months and 12 days. However, I still live with my sister - we bought a place together. But we will never have cats.
Sometimes she listens to books on tape - while doing dishes, cleaning, or whatever. These are not educational books, but romances. I try to be out of ear shot during these times. One she played recently had a high cheese factor, confirmed when the main character said, "Well, screw you... just... screw you."
We see each other quite a lot, resulting in me needing some time away from the house. And we may argue more than we did before we moved out; or maybe she just bosses me around more. Perhaps her words best describe our relationship some days:
Well, screw you... just... screw you.
Sometimes she listens to books on tape - while doing dishes, cleaning, or whatever. These are not educational books, but romances. I try to be out of ear shot during these times. One she played recently had a high cheese factor, confirmed when the main character said, "Well, screw you... just... screw you."
We see each other quite a lot, resulting in me needing some time away from the house. And we may argue more than we did before we moved out; or maybe she just bosses me around more. Perhaps her words best describe our relationship some days:
"She knows everything about me; I have nothing to say to her."
Well, screw you... just... screw you.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Stee-RANGE-est Call of the Week Thus Far
Setting: Work
Time: 11ish
Note: One name has been changed to Bob Smith because people apparently shouldn't blog about other people they work with. And 'Bob Smith' is a common substitute.
Lisa: It's a great day at Realty Executives, how may I direct your call?
Old Man Caller: Well, damned if I know!! Someone left a message on my answering machine.
Lisa: Did they leave a name?
OMC: Nope! No name.... it kinda sounded like my son.
Lisa: Oh, what's your son's name?
OMC: Bob. Bob Smith.
Lisa: Well, Bob does work at this office. I'll put you through to him.
Time: 11ish
Note: One name has been changed to Bob Smith because people apparently shouldn't blog about other people they work with. And 'Bob Smith' is a common substitute.
Lisa: It's a great day at Realty Executives, how may I direct your call?
Old Man Caller: Well, damned if I know!! Someone left a message on my answering machine.
Lisa: Did they leave a name?
OMC: Nope! No name.... it kinda sounded like my son.
Lisa: Oh, what's your son's name?
OMC: Bob. Bob Smith.
Lisa: Well, Bob does work at this office. I'll put you through to him.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Welcome to the Realness
This article appeared in SoJoMail today and was written by Titilayo Tinubu, where it originally appeared on her blog, www.titilayotalks.blogspot.com.
Naked and Unashamed
My first "F" ever was on a paper that I wrote for my Advanced Composition class freshman year at Spelman College. I say "ever," and I truly believe that. I don't recall ever getting low grades on many assignments and especially not English. Needless to say, that experience broke me down and caused me to rethink some things. To understand why, you'll have to know the reason why Dr. Gebre-Hewitt gave me that grade (or, more responsibly said, the reason why I earned that "F"). It was not because of grammar mistakes, broken syntax, or poor transitions. It wasn't even because I turned it in late (which I often did). According to my professor, I earned that "F" because I was not writing the truth, and the first law of every writer should be to speak his or her truth. Sure, the paper was pretty, it was perfect, it was exactly according to the instructions that she had given in the previous class, but it wasn't the TRUTH. Somehow she knew that I was writing for her and for the grade and not as an expression of my unique voice. And for that, she broke me down.
How many of us live our lives like that? How many of us work arduously to perfect the external all the while neglecting the truth of who we are? How many of us spend the bulk of our lives in pretense, only to end up being "pretty, perfect, and just what others ask for" but not the TRUTH?
The recurring theme in my life as of lately has been intimacy, genuineness, honesty and truth. Lately I've found myself asking questions like: Who in my life can I be true with? Who in my life offers opportunities for me to be true with them, and why don't I take them? Why won't I just be true with everyone? And here's the biggie: What is it that I am afraid of?
At the heart of this and every insecurity is an underlying fear. And I believe that we do ourselves a disservice when we don't examine and judge our souls to make sure that those fears don't dominate our lives and sabotage any real attempts to genuine community and relationship. I know that there are things about me that are downright ugly and imperfect, and it makes me woozy on the inside when I even think of having to one day open up and share. But in a bright corner of that same deep place, I know that it is good.
Do you have people in your life who push you? People in your life who stretch you? People in your life who ask you the hard questions and stare blankly and patiently into your eyes (or wait quietly on the other end of the phone) until you present an honest and genuine answer?
Friends, God is growing something in me. God is shaping me and molding me for something beautiful that will require the bare, naked, uncensored and untamed Titilayo in all her glory. And though that frightens me to the very core of my being, it's something beautiful.
What if, just WHAT IF, we were designed to experience a deeper and more intimate fellowship with one another than fear of rejection and insecurity have allowed us to experience? What if?
Just what if uncomfortable conversations, confrontations that birth transformations and agreeable disagreements were supposed to be the mark of our relationships instead of political correctness, avoidance, and cowardly shrinking back? What if we learned to appreciate the rawness of one another and chose to forsake our attempts to cover up those deep, hard and uncharted places where relational depth lies?
I can't speak for you and your relationships. I can only speak for mine. And I will say that I long for a deeper experience with those I call "friend" since God apparently considered it good that we cross paths. I know, have been a part of, and have observed perfected phoniness long enough, and I believe that it is time to move past the niceness and embrace the ugly. I think it's time to truly test our love for the often unlovable people that each of us can be, and press out of our comfort zones that would have us lazily maintain relationships that lack depth and substance.
I have been guilty of this, but I have also seen a glimpse of the enrichment and growth that comes from being and expressing truth. And in doing this, in pressing to those deep places with one another, in simply going there, we experience a connectedness, mutual responsibility and ownership that affirms our humanness like never before.
I became more human today. This invisible light bulb went off that illuminated something that has always been, yet I never noticed. It shined light on the fact that I am inextricably tied to the hurt, pain, joy, sadness, glee, blessing, suffering of others, and people, more than anything else should be handled with care.
Now, you may not want to be my (real or virtual) friend after this. But if you happen to be one of the crazy people who still do, (drumroll please...) welcome to the realness.
Expect to hear the tough questions from me. Expect me to pry to those inner places and push beyond the surface, politically correct, and often trite answers. Expect me to go there with you, and I plead you, I beg of you to go there with me.I promise: we will all be better for it. And in doing so we'll experience a deeper level of humanness that counters the lie that we're in this alone, and affirms the reality that we were made to be in this together.
So step into this scary, frightening, freeing, uncertain, pure, honest place with me. Get naked with me, will you?
Naked and Unashamed
My first "F" ever was on a paper that I wrote for my Advanced Composition class freshman year at Spelman College. I say "ever," and I truly believe that. I don't recall ever getting low grades on many assignments and especially not English. Needless to say, that experience broke me down and caused me to rethink some things. To understand why, you'll have to know the reason why Dr. Gebre-Hewitt gave me that grade (or, more responsibly said, the reason why I earned that "F"). It was not because of grammar mistakes, broken syntax, or poor transitions. It wasn't even because I turned it in late (which I often did). According to my professor, I earned that "F" because I was not writing the truth, and the first law of every writer should be to speak his or her truth. Sure, the paper was pretty, it was perfect, it was exactly according to the instructions that she had given in the previous class, but it wasn't the TRUTH. Somehow she knew that I was writing for her and for the grade and not as an expression of my unique voice. And for that, she broke me down.
How many of us live our lives like that? How many of us work arduously to perfect the external all the while neglecting the truth of who we are? How many of us spend the bulk of our lives in pretense, only to end up being "pretty, perfect, and just what others ask for" but not the TRUTH?
The recurring theme in my life as of lately has been intimacy, genuineness, honesty and truth. Lately I've found myself asking questions like: Who in my life can I be true with? Who in my life offers opportunities for me to be true with them, and why don't I take them? Why won't I just be true with everyone? And here's the biggie: What is it that I am afraid of?
At the heart of this and every insecurity is an underlying fear. And I believe that we do ourselves a disservice when we don't examine and judge our souls to make sure that those fears don't dominate our lives and sabotage any real attempts to genuine community and relationship. I know that there are things about me that are downright ugly and imperfect, and it makes me woozy on the inside when I even think of having to one day open up and share. But in a bright corner of that same deep place, I know that it is good.
Do you have people in your life who push you? People in your life who stretch you? People in your life who ask you the hard questions and stare blankly and patiently into your eyes (or wait quietly on the other end of the phone) until you present an honest and genuine answer?
Friends, God is growing something in me. God is shaping me and molding me for something beautiful that will require the bare, naked, uncensored and untamed Titilayo in all her glory. And though that frightens me to the very core of my being, it's something beautiful.
What if, just WHAT IF, we were designed to experience a deeper and more intimate fellowship with one another than fear of rejection and insecurity have allowed us to experience? What if?
Just what if uncomfortable conversations, confrontations that birth transformations and agreeable disagreements were supposed to be the mark of our relationships instead of political correctness, avoidance, and cowardly shrinking back? What if we learned to appreciate the rawness of one another and chose to forsake our attempts to cover up those deep, hard and uncharted places where relational depth lies?
I can't speak for you and your relationships. I can only speak for mine. And I will say that I long for a deeper experience with those I call "friend" since God apparently considered it good that we cross paths. I know, have been a part of, and have observed perfected phoniness long enough, and I believe that it is time to move past the niceness and embrace the ugly. I think it's time to truly test our love for the often unlovable people that each of us can be, and press out of our comfort zones that would have us lazily maintain relationships that lack depth and substance.
I have been guilty of this, but I have also seen a glimpse of the enrichment and growth that comes from being and expressing truth. And in doing this, in pressing to those deep places with one another, in simply going there, we experience a connectedness, mutual responsibility and ownership that affirms our humanness like never before.
I became more human today. This invisible light bulb went off that illuminated something that has always been, yet I never noticed. It shined light on the fact that I am inextricably tied to the hurt, pain, joy, sadness, glee, blessing, suffering of others, and people, more than anything else should be handled with care.
Now, you may not want to be my (real or virtual) friend after this. But if you happen to be one of the crazy people who still do, (drumroll please...) welcome to the realness.
Expect to hear the tough questions from me. Expect me to pry to those inner places and push beyond the surface, politically correct, and often trite answers. Expect me to go there with you, and I plead you, I beg of you to go there with me.I promise: we will all be better for it. And in doing so we'll experience a deeper level of humanness that counters the lie that we're in this alone, and affirms the reality that we were made to be in this together.
So step into this scary, frightening, freeing, uncertain, pure, honest place with me. Get naked with me, will you?
Friday, February 17, 2006
Defrost Me
Lisa's newest theory:
Once your car's rear defrost turns itself off, you should turn it on again and it will keep your car warmer.
Take it from someone whose car hasn't been warming up in these sub-zero temperatures... she knows.
Once your car's rear defrost turns itself off, you should turn it on again and it will keep your car warmer.
Take it from someone whose car hasn't been warming up in these sub-zero temperatures... she knows.
Monday, January 30, 2006
The Worst Day of the Year, Or the Most Heartless Thing Said to Me All Year
Date: January 30 2006
Time: 2:58pm
Heard: "So........ what are you doing on Valentine's Day......?"
My Response: "Nothing. Giving blood." (Followed by tears.)
What Lisa might as well have said: "So..... you're still single?"
(Actually, it wasn't so bad at all, but much more funny. There weren't any tears, I just thought it would be funny to quote and make Lisa feel really guilty. In fact, her husband has to be out of town that week and this was her preface to asking if I wanted to hang out on the 14th. It's going to be a night of death.... by chocolate, that is.)
Time: 2:58pm
Heard: "So........ what are you doing on Valentine's Day......?"
My Response: "Nothing. Giving blood." (Followed by tears.)
What Lisa might as well have said: "So..... you're still single?"
(Actually, it wasn't so bad at all, but much more funny. There weren't any tears, I just thought it would be funny to quote and make Lisa feel really guilty. In fact, her husband has to be out of town that week and this was her preface to asking if I wanted to hang out on the 14th. It's going to be a night of death.... by chocolate, that is.)
Thursday, January 19, 2006
My Joy and My Inspiration
My favorite thing is to go where I've never been.
- Diane Arbus (1923-1971)
Monday, January 16, 2006
The Hardest Part (A Sort of Therapy for Me)
The Hardest Part - Coldplay
And the hardest part
Was letting go, not taking part
Was the hardest part
And the strangest thing
Was waiting for that bell to ring
It was the strangest start
I could feel it go down
Bittersweet, I could taste in my mouth
Silver lining the cloud
Oh and I
I wish that I could work it out
And the hardest part
Was letting go, not taking part
You really broke my heart
And I tried to sing
But I couldn't think of anything
And that was the hardest part
I could feel it go down
You left the sweetest taste in my mouth
You're a silver lining the clouds
Oh and I
Oh and I
I wonder what it's all about
I wonder what it's all about
Everything I know is wrong
Everything I do, it just comes undone
And everything is torn apart
Oh and it's the hardest part
That's the hardest part
Yeah that's the hardest part
That's the hardest part
And the hardest part
Was letting go, not taking part
Was the hardest part
And the strangest thing
Was waiting for that bell to ring
It was the strangest start
I could feel it go down
Bittersweet, I could taste in my mouth
Silver lining the cloud
Oh and I
I wish that I could work it out
And the hardest part
Was letting go, not taking part
You really broke my heart
And I tried to sing
But I couldn't think of anything
And that was the hardest part
I could feel it go down
You left the sweetest taste in my mouth
You're a silver lining the clouds
Oh and I
Oh and I
I wonder what it's all about
I wonder what it's all about
Everything I know is wrong
Everything I do, it just comes undone
And everything is torn apart
Oh and it's the hardest part
That's the hardest part
Yeah that's the hardest part
That's the hardest part
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Mizar Helmet Lice
Who knew that the letters of my first and last name could be rearranged to form at least 500 anagrams? Yesterday's Site of the Day has an anagram generator.... just in case you want to know what your names spell too!
Here's some more of mine.....
Maize hermit cell
Maize chill meter
Hell metric maize
Maize retch me ill
Haze metric me ill
Haze mimic teller
Czar theme millie
Here's some more of mine.....
Maize hermit cell
Maize chill meter
Hell metric maize
Maize retch me ill
Haze metric me ill
Haze mimic teller
Czar theme millie
Monday, January 09, 2006
Why I Love Music So Much
There's something about hearing songs that relate to your situation. At times they confirm exactly what you've been feeling, and sometimes they may help you to see things from an angle which you had previously missed. Damien Rice's music does that for me - it's full of so much raw emotion and helps me to deal with my own. Allow me to introduce to you his songs "Delicate" (which I can relate to very well) and "Volcano" (which helps me see things from another perspective). To me, Delicate is the She Said and Volcano is the He Said. Both are helpful because they help me grieve a loss. Of course, the music adds so much to the lyrics, but the lyrics are enough.
Delicate
we might kiss
when we are alone
when nobody’s watchin’
we might take it home
we might make out
when nobody's there
it's not that we're scared
it's just that it's delicate
so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?
we might live
like never before
when there's nothin’ to give
how can we ask for more?
we might make love
in some sacred place
that look on your face
is delicate
so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?
Volcano
don't hold yourself like that you'll hurt your knees
i kissed your mouth & back that's all i need
don't build your world around volcanoes melt you down
what i am to you is not real
what i am to you you do not need
what i am to you is not what you mean to me
you give me miles and miles of mountains
and i’ll ask for the sea
don't throw yourself like that in front of me
i kissed your mouth your back is that all you need?
don't drag my love around volcanoes melt me down
what i am to you is not real
what i am to you you do not need
what i am to you is not what you mean to me
you give me miles and miles of mountains
and i’ll ask for the sea
what i give to you is just what i’m going through
this is nothing new no no just another phase of finding
what i really need is what makes me bleed
and like a new disease she’s still too you to treat
volcanoes melt me down
she’s still too young
i kissed your mouth
you do not need me
Damien Rice's music can be found at www.damienrice.com. His cd "O" is one of the best I own.
Delicate
we might kiss
when we are alone
when nobody’s watchin’
we might take it home
we might make out
when nobody's there
it's not that we're scared
it's just that it's delicate
so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?
we might live
like never before
when there's nothin’ to give
how can we ask for more?
we might make love
in some sacred place
that look on your face
is delicate
so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?
Volcano
don't hold yourself like that you'll hurt your knees
i kissed your mouth & back that's all i need
don't build your world around volcanoes melt you down
what i am to you is not real
what i am to you you do not need
what i am to you is not what you mean to me
you give me miles and miles of mountains
and i’ll ask for the sea
don't throw yourself like that in front of me
i kissed your mouth your back is that all you need?
don't drag my love around volcanoes melt me down
what i am to you is not real
what i am to you you do not need
what i am to you is not what you mean to me
you give me miles and miles of mountains
and i’ll ask for the sea
what i give to you is just what i’m going through
this is nothing new no no just another phase of finding
what i really need is what makes me bleed
and like a new disease she’s still too you to treat
volcanoes melt me down
she’s still too young
i kissed your mouth
you do not need me
Damien Rice's music can be found at www.damienrice.com. His cd "O" is one of the best I own.
Ode to the Nice Girl
Because it's copyrighted, I won't reprint it here..... but check out this link to read an Ode to the Nice Girl - written because a nice girl finally snapped. I found it on the Best of Craigslist.
Hmmmm..... is it obvious that I've been burned recently?
Hmmmm..... is it obvious that I've been burned recently?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
