Grand Master of the Universe

I haven't used this blog in a LONG time, but I was writing a sort of journal/musing of my thoughts that I felt like posting online. Not as if anyone will see it, but I wanted to post it anyway. Somehow making my voice available online to anyone makes me feel more powerful than if it is locked away in my computer. Well, here it is:

Tonight I knelt by the coffee table in my living room, weeping and pouring my heart out to God for comfort, for direction, for strength. I have been overcome today, Mother’s Day, thinking about the state of this nation and its welfare. I stand against the practice of abortion and view it as an atrocity, not only against those unborn lives, but also against the calling of those mothers whom we celebrated today. Millions of individuals seem to crowd the media spouting support for the choice to abort an unborn child. Possibly, there are also millions rallying against that very choice, but our voices don’t seem to resonate as strongly. Or perhaps that is only what the opposition wants me to believe. Perhaps our voices are raised up just as strongly, but without a gilded platform to stand on, we aren’t given the same status or notice as our adversaries. Perhaps, also, that is the incorrect terminology. Adversary. Opposition. Insofar as their politics and beliefs clash against my own and cause me to be unable to advance or live in the way I see fit, one could consider those desiring to make abortion legal to be an opposition. But in reality, they are my neighbors, my countrymen, my brothers & sisters. Perhaps the problem comes from being able to define the reality in which we wish to live. Our definitions of choice currently seem to be limited to immediate consequences of life or of death. Of course it is the death of a human life form that I immediately abhor and I might also be so bold as to assume it is the immediate concern for most pro-life supporters. However, it is also the greater picture that concerns me in this volcanic issue. When is a baby considered a baby, or when is “life” created? What is the definition of life or agency? What is the definition of family? Are we, as a people, able to make such permanent decisions, either for or against, without understanding the nature of life & death? How do we view the role of sex in our society? It seems to me that the answers to these types of questions might be a stepping stone in bringing together the two camps on this issue that seem to be so constantly at one another’s throats. We appear to be wildly stabbing at one another, each faction blindfolded by its agendas. We have placed ourselves on opposite sides of the road, cementing our feet in our policies and priorities, without realizing that the answer might quite possibly lie in the middle of the road. But we will get nowhere, either of the two factions, without humbling ourselves enough to agree that we don’t have all the answers. Marriage counselors continually talk about compromise, give-and-take; parents try to teach their children to share almost before they can walk; neighbors chuckle about the silly stubbornness of a Hatfield-McCoy feud; and yet we find ourselves in territory that lies in direct opposition to all of those principles. It may not seem much of a final solution, but this is not meant to be one. It is, however, meant to be a bringing together of warring camps, without shouting, without finger-pointing, without mud-slinging. This fight, it seems to me, is not necessarily about the choice to have an abortion or the eradication of the practice: that is only what all the noise is about. It is only a fight because no one has bothered to come to a conclusion about those core questions. We are dealing with a symptom of an ailing society, not the central disease. To be fair, sometimes one still has to treat a symptom before it becomes fatal, but I can only pray that is not the case with this issue. I also pray for relief, for knowledge, for understanding. Without an openness and a deeper awareness of what is exactly at stake, particularly where the role of the family lies in this matter, we will be interminably standing on opposite sides of the road, our feet firmly planted in our own prejudiced cement.

Labels: Mother's Day

OK, I know I didn't tell about the mouse trapping (and prompt disposal, I might add), but Im sure everyone will get over it. I really just wanted to quickly offer my official endorsement of the election outcome. I voted for Pres. George W. Bush and I hope to be able to stand behind him for the next four years. Sometimes people disappoint you, but that doesn't mean we rid ourselves of hope. Never. Honestly, I think people get caught up in things that are WAY beyond their control. Even the President of the United States has extremely limited power. So when involved in an election, I look at different things than most people: First, what kind of leader the individual appears to be; Second, what kind of values they've stood for in the past; Third, how important their own family appears to be in their life. I'm sure there are other issues that are extremely important... HOWEVER, I felt more secure when I found out that Pres. Bush won his re-election. He has CLEARLY defined over the past 4 years what his values are. More importantly, he has stood by those values and turned over heaven and earth to keep them. Those are the qualities people need in a leader-- by definition, it is someone they can follow. I was terrified thinking we'd have John Kerry in the white house, supporting certain national decisions and us not knowing from one day to the next what he'd be doing. But I feel confident that we have a president who knows what he stands for. And lastly, I know this is sort of a ridiculous line of reasoning, but... when I saw pictures of Mrs. Heinz-Kerry on the day they found out her husband has NOT won the presidency, all I could think was how AWFUL she would have looked as the first lady! I mean, honestly. With her disheveled fly-away hair, her dark, sort of indescribably clothes, she looked trashed. (I know they'd been up all night, but so had the Bushes!) Then you look at Mrs. Laura Bush in her prim and proper pink suit, not a hair out of place, and she looked so Jackie-O. I imagined that if Kerry were elected, Mrs. Kerry would have to go to some sort of finishing school, or have the PR people dress her and instruct her EVERY DAY for the next 4 years. Anyway, I've given my 2 cents on the subject. If you're not as pleased as I am, I hope you learn to be sometime before the next four years are over. Because it will be complete HELL if Hilary Clinton runs in four years. Oy. I think I'll move to the Cayman Islands. See you there.

Well... my, my my... it HAS been a long time. In case anyone wanted to know, the reason I've been away so long is that I got tangled up with a boy last year, about the same time I stopped writing. I was so smitten with him that the rest of my life became somewhat dissolved as I spent most of my time at his house watching The Simpsons. (I know, so educational, right? What can I say? Boys never grow up.) Anyway, I went through a year-long romance, spent mostly with the two of us frustrated at the other for one thing or another. But we discovered we couldn't live without each other, so about 7 weeks ago I married the knucklehead. Of course, I think he's about the most amazing knucklehead I've ever met, and I'm madly, hopelessly in love with him so... you don't hear me complaining. However, it also means that most of my time is now spent either at work or cleaning house. (My dearest sweetums wears a lot of dress shirts, so there's a lot of ironing to do.) It's interesting how my perception of myself has changed in the last few weeks, because for the first time in my life, I actually care how someone ELSE looks when he leaves the house-- as if it's some sort of direct reflection on ME! Can't imagine what it'll be like when we actually have kids. eek. All in due time...

So what else is new in my life, outside of this majorly gorgeous ring I have on my left hand (that he picked out all by himself! Take a note, fellas... it's WAY more impressive if you pick it out yourself. Just take her along on a few shopping outings, so you make sure you kind of know what she likes. If you get to the point where you can pick it out before she does, you know you're good to go.) Anyhoo... since the last time I wrote, I also started a new job. I'm working at AdCentives West, a promotional advertising company that provides pretty much anything you're looking for with your logo on it. So if you want your name slapped on a gross (that's 144 for the laymen in the crowd) of pens or USB ports or big sappy smiley-face pins E-MAIL ME! and I'll get you started.

OK, so I've set a goal for myself to start writing again more often. At least once a week. Don't know if anyone else cares, but... it's my blog-site, so I don't really give a hoot. Thank you.

PS - haha... OK, I had to laugh because I read a previous blog about the mouse in my house. Well, not even a week ago, right about the time I looked at this site again, my wonderful hubby and I were encroached upon by ANOTHER tiny invader-- but this time we CAUGHT him! HA! Take that, all you dirty, vile, little vermin out there. This is a reminder not to mess with Erin, because now she doesn't have to wait for her cousins to show up. She has a man with her RIGHT THERE to push him out of bed at 3:45 am and attack the nasty critty she hears stealing cookies in the kitchen. OK, no more hints. I'll write about it later. This was just a little disclaimer that we are not responsible for any future deaths of rodents that occur in our home. You have been warned.

do you know what i think of writer's block? there's no such thing. if someone can't think of something to write about or an idea to expound, it's only because he or she has the most boring life possible and never experiences anything worth writing about. it's only when people get out in the world, or even just in their community, and get involved with life. it's all about having new experiences and assimilating them into what you already know from your previous life's experiences. so the next time someone says they have writer's block, i think it's a good idea to tell them to go outside, get a snowcone, watch people in the park, attend a concert or a museum exhibition, try learning a new sport-- anything to get ouside themselves and their boring lives. to sum up-- i think the most interesting writers would be those who have the most interesting lives. i mean, everyone always says to write what you know. thus, the more exciting or varied one's life is, the more exciting and varied one's writing will be. i mean, who really wants to read 30 articles about the same concert touring around a country, written over and over, by the same writer with the same ideas and the same personality. if you wanted a real challenge, try writing 30 articles about the SAME concert, all from differing points of view. still, it wouldn't necessarily make for the most stimulating reading, from a purely aesthetic viewpoint. possibly something interesting to study, but then again, not everyone finds the same study material purely fascinating. i had a roommate at college who absolutely could not get enough of her biology book. i took biology. i couldn't wait to put the book DOWN. i have my suspicions that she actually sometimes slept with hers under her pillow. life takes all sorts. if it didn't, this world would be intensely boring and we'd probably have to ammuse ourselves by finding different ways of propelling the most boring people into outer space. come to think of it, that might be a good topic for next time-- exactly who would be on that list (aside from certain biology professors that i might be able to name, as well as people who insist on standing immediately outside of an eating establishment to take their smoke break), and how one would go about enforcing this earthly exile? interesting.

Phew! Time sure flies when you're having fun. I suppose I could excuse myself for not having written because I was on vacation, but even I would have to admit that's a pretty lame excuse. Still, I haven't completely shirked my writing duties and I am constantly reminded that I need to keep practicing if I expect to get into grad. school. Sort of weak reasoning, especially since there's not even a semblance of intellectual exposition on this page, but at least it makes me feel not so guilty when I write on company time.

But since the subject of vacation came up, at what better point to begin a dialogue and let my thoughts wander? Yes, I just spent 2 glorious weeks on that continent of our ancestors-- at least the ones who originally founded what we now know as the great United States of America-- namely Europe. (Incidentally, I find it interesting that a place with such renowned refinement and sophistication was named after a Greek princess who was abducted and raped by the god Zeus. Life is so much more interesting when you know the etymology of language, don't you think?) Well, I suppose I should clarify, since I didn't actually travel all over the continent. Primary time was spent in Great Britain, on the lush budding island of England. The remainder of the time was spent in that historically fascinating, if not somewhat historically-gruesome, land of deutsche. (For those of you who are less-than linguaphiles, that's Germany.) Perhaps the most interesting part of visiting any new land (aside from the history and, of course, the food) is the people that live there. The people make up the culture-- from clothing, colors, food (of course), transportation, attitudes, language, even architecture-- and I find it a fascinating study. And to be able to compare those attributes between differing landscapes and climates is one of the best parts about being the only animal with logic and reason. (Of course even that assumption is stretching it a bit with a few people I've met in my two-and-a-half decades of living.)

Already having the opportunity to live in the green and pleasant land of England, I am somewhat accustomed to their culture and people. Actually, assumptions about them are quite difficult because of the vast number of immigrants who are nothing like the stoic Brits who have inhabited the land for generations, many of them actually remembering the Boston Tea Party taking place, and taking great offense from it. No, these "imports" bring with them all the flavor and grit of their homeland, be it from Somalia, Zimbabwe, Pakistan, China, Portugal, Columbia, or Australia. Needless to say, it become somewhat of a chore to stereotype "English people" because they've turned into quite a simmering pot of differences. Of course, if you ask the hard-nosed "originals" they'll say England has gone to waste and they don't even recognize their own country anymore. But most seem to be quite welcoming and willing to adapt to their new brothers and sisters.

There is one obvious difference that absolutely must be pointed out, regarding differences in cultures. After hanging around London for only one day, my friend Casey (who on our first day in Germany took no less than 43 pictures) had already asked myriads of people to take our picture. The British were usually very accomodating and polite about being so imposed upon, but did nothing more than smile and nod before going on their merry way. This was not the case upon encountering a family from Nigeria. Standing at the derriere end of the lions on Trafalgar Square, we asked the father of this family to help us get some "Charlie's Angels" shots (since we all happened to be wearing the same uniform of black t-shirt and blue pants, and it seemed the only appropriate thing to do) and he happily agreed. After returning our cameras, the mother siddled over and sheephishly informed us that her daughter wanted her picture taken with us. Of course we were only too pleased to oblige and she promptly got a Charlie's Angels picture with the crazy white girls. Well, it was only a matter of minutes before we were engaged in conversation, telling about our trip, hearing about their month-long vacation plans, as well as being lectured on the Nigerian language and protocol for naming children. Before it was all over, we had exchanged email addresses, religious affiliations, more pictures, and hugs with this adorable family of 6. Needless to say, we never repeated this experience with any of the natives of that green and pleasant land. Perhaps it's best to let people take away their own inferences from this encounter, rather than stating out the blatant differences. Also, I may have to let any comments on Germany wait for another entry. It is, after all, making me quite homesick and ready to get on the next plane out of here.

I found an interesting website that was sort of fun. My roommates and I would have countless hours of fun with the Hartman Color Code, testing each other, guessing what other people's colors would be, etc... This one's a bit different, but even if it is a bit like horoscoping, the questions are interesting as well as introspective. Apparently, this is my personality today. It'll probably be different next week. Have fun!

YELLOW You are very perceptive and smart. You are clear and to the point and have a great sense of humor. You are always learning and searching for understanding. Find out your color at Quiz Me!

Attention all blog-readers! I have an important announcement to make: THERE IS A MOUSE IN MY HOUSE. Thank you.

No, I didn't write that just so I could feel like Dr. Seuss for a few seconds (although, I would have to argue he is one of the greatest minds of the last century). I'm going for a "realist" sort of issue today-- there really is a mouse in my house. Now, let me clear things up for a minute before I explain my adventures this week. I have lived for over 2 decades now (yes, I know, relatively little, but also relatively much, depending on whose relative you're coming from) and never in that time do I remember having such a rodent invade my private space like this. Of course, there've been occurrences in other situation: i.e. girls' camp, lake powell, and one summer i lived in boston-- and even then I never saw the intruder, only the souvenirs he left on our counters. However, in this case, I was thoroughly aware of a small, scurrying, furry presence near the banister leading downstairs. It all happened on Sunday night, when things are supposed to be quiet and reposeful-- appropriately, a day of rest. But that was NOT what lay in store for me as peril lay just beyond my parent's bedroom door. Let me explain. I was sitting, innocently, unaware of any pending danger, in their room watching television. They had left for Arizona a few days before and weren't supposed to return until Wednesday, leaving me to fend for myself in any and all dangerous circumstances. As the t.v. is parallel to their door, I had a perfect view of the outside sitting area, including the banister that leads down into the basement. During this relaxing pasttime, I noticed a slight movement out of the left corner of my eye, a small dark movement, but as it disappeared when I turned to look, I assumed it was merely blindspots forming on my eyes because of countless, mindnumbing hours of watching television. Harmless, really. BUT, not 5 minutes later, I noticed this movment again-- however this time, in turning to look at the movement in question, it most certainly did NOT disappear when I stared directly at it. On the contrary it moved slightly closer, in a suspiciously scurrying sort of manner. At which point I found the most helpful (or at least most prominent thought on my mind and therefore the only thing I could imagine doing) was to let out a terrified squeal as I leapt off the bed toward the object for further examination. Whereon the furry object decidedly scurried behind a plant, obscuring my view of its escape. As I had a perfect panorama of everything on either side of the plant, my only conscious thought was that the mouse had scurried into it. This plant is one of those horrid kind with fake straw-looking moss filling the pot, which I assumed (wrongly) would be a perfect place for a mouse to reside. All the while this is going on, my lungs continue to involuntarily emit small bursts of air, followed by slightly whimpering sounds. I had no idea my body could react with such instinctive fight-or-flight reactions. In this case, the shoe in my hand showed I was ready to fight, but the escaping gasps showed my body felt otherwise.

It was only then I realized that all the blinds in my house were open, and seeing how it was 10:00 pm, it suddenly came to mind that every curious Tom, Dick and Harry could see me crouching down on the ground around this plant with a shoe in my hand, ready to attack. And if they were close enough, they could have audibly heard the turmoil I was in. This had the effect of immediately calming me down, at least long enough for me to close the blinds and assume my position again. It was also then that I realized 2 things: my heart was beating faster than if I'd just finished the Tour de France, and there was NO way I was handling this alone. Those are the times it comes in handy to have cousins nearby. My cousin Barrett was practically born outside and is a regular MacGuyver in any distressing situation. His wife, Becca, served a mission in Guatemala where she apparently lived in mouse-infested quarters on a regular basis. When they heard my frantic voice and probably my heart beating over the phone (after first picking themselves off the floor from blatant and uncontrollable laughter) they rushed right over and began the hunt. First, they cleared up the false impression I had that the mouse was STILL hiding in the plant. What I had not noticed (or been aware of) is that mice can JUMP. (Now, just tell me that isn't a creepy thought.) What I wasn't able to see from being on the other side of the plant, is that it was a mere 6 foot drop off the banister onto the stairs that lead into the basement. So of course all this time I was crouched futilely in front of this plastic tree, Dangermouse and all his buddies were laughing at me a safe distance of 12 feet BELOW me and the broom I had since included in my artillery. SO... then the hunt REALLY began as we opened closets, pulled out furniture, opened cupboards.. all to no avail. My ignorance had allowed far too long of an escape time, and he was lost. My wonderfully loving cousins (who were still having a hard time containing themselves and controlling their laughter) were aware of my obvious distress and offered me a bed at their place. I was in my pajamas in about 2 seconds and running out the door without shoes, just to be away from that horrible place I used to call home. Of course, the next day I was able to go back with a little more perspective, as well as armed with four newly-bought mouse traps. Ha! Who's Dangermouse now? heh-heh...

Well, obviously he's smarter than I thought because the traps have yet to produce any sign of a mouse. But at least the concept has sunk into my head-- it is possible for a small, furry intruder to interrupt my Sunday repose. Knowing is half the battle, right? I found it interesting that I reacted the way I did. It was positively like being in a bad sit-com, with a delicate housewife squealing and squawking like a cornered animal at a creepy house-invader. Isn't it strange that something about 100th our size can sometimes make us act that way? Especially something that poses no real threat if you have a shoe handy. You probably think you're so cool-headed and unphased by most anything, but put you alone in a house at night, and have an unexpected visitor that creeps or scurries or scampers around on 4 legs distrurb your otherwise cozy evening-- THEN we'll see what you're made of. I suggest that after you're done shrieking, you call my cousins.