"Are you sure this is a real license?"

Today I went to Sater Bros. to get some floss. Yes, that's right, dental floss. I got to the check out line I whipped out my checkbook to write them a nifty little check for my minty fresh dental floss. Now, in order to have them accept my nice little check from my nice little checkbook they have to see my driver's license. I'm from Washington State so it would follow that I have a Washington State driver's license, which I do. It's quite lovely in fact, it even has my picture on it. The nice young man who was my checker looked at the license, then looked at me and asked, "Is this a real license?"
I replied with the obvious answer, "Yes."
"Are you sure?"
Puzzled I responded, "Yes."
"Why is it up and down instead of sideways?" he asked. I then explained to him that Washington has something called a 'graduated license' and all the gore details of that program (which would take far to long to explain here.) The young man persisted in looking puzzled and called his assistant manager who he probably hoped would rectify his puzzlement.
They conversed for a moment before the assistant manager looked at me and asked, "Are you sure this is a real license?"
"Yes." They proceeded to call the manager. I being highly amused at all of this stood there quietly wondering when they would figure it all out.
Soon the manager appeared. He took one look at my license and asked, "Does your license number have letters in it?"
I replied, "yes. It is preceded by the words, 'license number' at the top of the license in large blue letters."
"Are you sure this is a real license?"
"Yes."

So this is what they call "friendship"

I'm so disgusted by a few of my friends. They have such a huge problem, and only half of them realize it and refuse to do nothing about it for fear or possibly hurting the other party. Which is just going to make it worse. It is a rot that will continue to grow and fester until there is nothing stable and whole left. They will fall apart and a gaping void will be all that is left. Yes, lets just shoot the messenger. I refuse to get involved in this anymore. I refuse to let my friends take me down with them. They can sort it out themselves, I don't want to hear about it. If it's not between me and you, don't tell me about it. Don't ask for my advise unless you plan on taking it. Have fun destroying yourselves.

"You should pray about it." Yes, I should, and you should open your eyes and look at the horror that is not so horrific as you think. Do not point out my faults if I do not point out yours. Which is more grievous, my respecting your wishes to ignore your elephant in the room or you not respecting mine?

...may angels lead you in...

For once my mind is quite. Tranquil in its spirit, lulled to rest with the rapture of life. There are horrors and beasts in my life, but I am secure in the knowledge that they will not break through my haphazard defenses, not by anything I can do, but by one who has power so much greater than my own. The options are all before me, all the different roads streatched out, branching in different directions. Some are snow covered barren wastelands, others sweet smelling roads lined with apple trees blooming their white flowers, some hot dusty roads with the wind blowing sand across the way. Which road is the best, what option will lead me to where I want to go? May angels lead me in...

...goodnight, may flights of angels fly thee to thy rest...

Shall we Dancu?

Last night I saw "Shall we Dance?" it was pretty good american remake even though it had JLo in it. *shudders* I still think that the original Japanese film "Shall we Dancu?" is so much better. It has more detail and everything makes more sense, especially within the Japanese culture. (since I know so much about their culture...) You know, I think I'm starting to like Richard Gere movies... scandalous I know. But anyways, there was this song towards the end of the movie that caught my attention. Normally I can't stand songs that have lyrics that are, shall we say, not well crafted - but this song stuck in my mind, now I really like it.

Book of Love
Peter Gabriel

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything
The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings


Good thing Michael never reads my blog, otherwise he might think I'm *cough* trying to say something *cough*

Misery

I now know what it's like to be truly and completely miserable - to feel completely wretched inside. Knowing that you are in part responsible for the misery of someone that you love. To know that you and everything you do causes the person you hold most dear so much pain, indirectly though it may be. But it is still your actions that are the catalyst to these horrible chain of events. To be made to choose between your family and the person that you want to marry is a choice that no one should ever have to make. I'm not sure which is worse, being the person who has to make the choice or being one of the options. Both are terrible positions to be in. On one hand you know that whatever you do will break not just your heart but someone else' as well. On the other hand you know that either the person choosing is going to break your heart or the heart of their family and with that their heart is going to break as well.

I want to weep; my heart breaks a little more every day with each phone call or lack there of. I know that he doesn't call me because he wants to keep the peace in his family, and I know that he wants to call me because he loves me with all his heart. I can't call him without him having to endure so much pain and misery afterwards, I can't write him a letter without him having to bear more of the same. Is there nothing left for us? Nothing but this pain and affliction? How long must we live with this torture? How long can we live with this persecution? Something has to happen, something has to change. There's nothing we can do that we haven't already done to ease this bitter pill, this heartache. He only wants to be able to come home to a place where he isn't argued with every minute he is there, a place where he isn't forced to defend me, forced to defend our relationship. He has to endure all this pain and agony simply because he loves me. Indirectly I am the cause of his pain, of his misery - the person I love more than I love life itself. Me. Everything I do causes more strain with his parents, which in turn causes them to lash out at him. He who deserves it the least. All because of me…

Alaska Air: Where your happiest dreams come true

I've decided that I have mixed feelings about Alaska Air. By far they are the most reliable. I have yet to be more than 5 minutes late on any flight of theirs that I've been on. But they have some of the worst flight times. I don't leave for Beautiful Bellingham until 7:40pm...which means I don't get in until midnight or so. I'm not real keen on that. I want to get back earlier so that I can sign songs with Brian at the passion services at BCC. Not too mention that I will be wandering around Biola doing absolutely nothing for 8 hours waiting to leave for my flight. Gee, that sounds like fun... besides, if I get home before 6:00pm I get dinner at home... *sighs* mmm that sounds good. Real food... steak, spaghetti, gnocci, lamb, pork, beef, ravioli, green beans, corn, lasagna, stuffed shells, beef stroganoff, shish kabobs (chicken and beef), baked chicken, baked salmon with lemon, oh the possibilities! To think, I will be able to cook once more. To create wonderful, mouth watering dishes. They only problem is deciding what to cook and for whom. What should I make? Tell me your favorite dishes and which ones I should make when I get home. If you'd like you should leave me the recipe so that I can add it to my collection of dishes I must try.

Lady Rebecca, Mistress of Confusion and Ruler of the Known (and unknown) Universe

To: All Life in both the Known and Unknown Universe
From: Her Majesty Lady Rebecca Mistress of Confusion and Ruler of the Known (and unknown) Universe

My dear beloved subject! I would like to announce the beginning of my reign as Mistress of Confusion and Ruler of the Known (and unknown) Universe. Never more shall you be in want of understanding without confusion. I would also like to introduce you to my Co-Ruler Lord Michael, Consort to the Mistress of Confusion, Ruler of the Known (and unknown) Universe in His Own Right. I would also like to introduce to you Lord Ben, Master of Her Mistress' Forces of Confusion and Protector of Her Higness' Person; Lady Elizabeth, Duchess of the Milky Way, Pegasus Galaxy and All Foreign Life; and to Lord Ryan, Master and Commander of Her Mistress' Technology of Confusion; Lord Jeffrey, Earl of the Whirlpool Galaxy, Master of Universe Control and Planning, Commander of Mathematical Manipulations, and Knight of the Order of Atlantis; his brother Lord Brian, Duke of Alpha Centauri, Master of Her Mistress's Music, Architecture, and Bike Repair. Sister to Lady Rebecca, Countess Patricia, Lady of Centaurus and Andromeda Galaxies, Defender of the Realm against the Wraith and other evil beings, and head of the Art Committee for the beautification of the Universe; along with Lord Rob, Duke of Elliot Galaxy, Master of Entertainment and Knight of her Mistress' Music. All Hail to your Regal Lords and Ladies! Be at peace my noble and confused subjects for I am a Kind and Just ruler, dedicated to the love and confusion of my people.

Rain, rain, wonderful rain

I love the rain, almost as much as I love Washington. It rained, then it poured, then it sprinkled all day long. It was wonderful. I went out dancing in the rain after chapel today. People were running for cover and hunkering down in the coats, putting up hood, but not I! I threw off my jacket and smiled the biggest smile I've had since coming down here to SoCal. I laughed and sang getting soaked to the bone. I jumped in puddles while singing "Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way." I laughed for joy with my fingers stretched out to the heavens and twirled to the rhythm of the rain. During my puddle jumping escapades I just happened to drench a few biola bounders, by *accident* of course. mmmm... rain...

My Lady Catherine de Bourgh

I can't believe this. Haven't I had enough, haven't I taken enough of this? When will it end, when will this childish behavior, this idiotically stubborn woman cease to rant and rave like a lunatic? For those of you who are not yet enlightened as to whom I am referring, I am speaking of Mrs. Holland. Yes, that is right, my boy friend's mother. As feeble as that sounds, let me explain. Mrs. Holland feels rather strongly that her son shouldn't be dating while his older siblings are not dating. She believes that dating is the entirely wrong way to approach having relationships with the opposite sex. While I respect her beliefs, as does her son, I do not agree with them in thought or method. in fact, I have spent less time with her son while dating him than I ever did while we were friends. Over this past summer she wrote me a letter informing me that it was her wish for me to break it off with her son because he refused to break off relations with me. If this does not strike you as odd, the story continues. 3 months later I receive a telephone call from Mrs. Holland informing me that her son wishes nothing more to do with me, and that she's very sorry to have to inform me of this unfortunate news. Thinking this was very odd, I did nothing. Lo and behold I received a call from Michael that evening, him knowing nothing of what transpired (he was calling from work, and had not yet been home.) Needless to say, he was not amused. A month or so later she called my mother asking her to convince me that dating her son was immoral and unbiblical and going against "God's common sense." During this time she has been making her son completely and utterly miserable. Barely veiled threats, arguments, comments, jeers, and the like. You think this is the end? I'm sorry to inform you friend this is not the end, that there is one more such occurrence that I feel compelled to relate to you so that you might know the frustration that I feel. Now I cannot even send letters to Michael via his house. I have to send them to a mutual friend who delivers them to him every Saturday. Almost all forms of our communication have been interfered with. If she ever feels the need to discuss this with me personally, I fear I may end up being like Elizabeth Bennett when Lady Catherine de Bourgh comes to visit her demanding that she make promises never to become engaged to her nephew Mr. Darcy.

On the subject of Valentines

Valentines can be wonderful things. Getting them, I mean. Recieving Valentines from friends, loved ones, strangers is always exciting and oft hilarious. I am approaching this Valentine's day with somewhat of a feeling of apprehension. Having a significant other, but not knowing if he is even aware of the significance of the 14th of February, it is odd to wonder if anything might or might not happen. Him also being 1000 miles away might play some small part in this apprehension, but one must not believe that is so. Does one get flowers for someone so far removed from their physical location? Does one mail a letter or a card describing the object of their affection? Or does one simply ignore the date altogher and hope that nothing drastic comes of it? For those of you who do not know what to do for either friends or lovers I will provide you with either a source of amusment or a declaration of undying love and affection.

The first a poem entitled "The perfect man"

The perfect man is hard to find
Always gentle, sweet, and kind
He'll look so good and stands so tall
Will carry your bags throughout the mall
He'll fix your car when it needs help
Write you poems that make you melt
Sing sweet songs with his guitar
Wish with you on every star
Drive a pretty car that goes *vroom*
Knows how to use a mop and broom
He'll dress darn good for every event
Always act like a perfect gent
Would always take a punch to defend you
Heck, he would even throw them too
This guy's crazy for you, no doubt
His love for you is very devout
Cooks and cleans for you every day
And no, this guy is not gay
Doesn't have to act like Mr. Tough
This guy knows that he's studly and buff
Cuddle with you at every chance
But doesn't want to get into your pants
Always remembers every single date
Wouldn't be caught dead arriving late
Knows just when your anniversary is
Even passes my eligibility pop quiz
Yes, I approve of this guy for you
Your face (not butt!) is his favorite view
You'll be together for the rest of your life
You'll be his one and only beautiful wife
I looked everywhere to find this guy for you
But until he shows up, Ken will have to do


The second an excerpt from Jane Austin's "Pride and Predjudice"

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tel lyou how ardently I admire and love you."

Words

My imagination has always been wild and unrestrained, as long as it resided in my mind. With every new book that I read I want to either have an adventure that wonderful/special or to be able to dream up an adventure or story that wild and well conceived. In my attempt to be extraordinary I find myself becoming more and more ordinary. The more ordinary I discover myself becoming the more I try to be extraordinary. And that doesn't really work, but still I try. I have these amazing stories in my mind that I dream up night and day, but whenever I sit down to write them they never develop as well on paper as they did in my mind. Every time I tell the story it never comes out the same, it never comes out right. I get stuck on what I think the listener want to hear or what I think they're interested in instead of being true to my story.

Written words are so much more beautiful, elegant, and powerful than spoken words. The imagination of the reader is more powerful than anything else -short of God. Words and the imagination are the closest things we have to magic. They can transport us to other worlds, introduce us to creatures we could have never met on our own, give us life long friends that never leave or betray. Words have given me wings- great snowy expanses flecked with gold and silver specks - and allowed me to fly above towns and cities, rivers and lakes that don't exist on any map in our world. Words give me skills that I would otherwise never have: how to ride a horse at neck-breaking speeds, how to wield a sword, blast a wall open with magic, heal a broken bone with my mind... All of this I can do through words. Sooner or later one has to leave words and go back to a world where there are no wings, no horses that talk or whatnots.

Even though I can do so much with words, there is so much more that cannot be said or described. Love for instance. Love is patience, love is kind, it does not boast... this describes what love is like, what it looks like, but it misses the intense joy and wonder of love, the fierceness and the depth. Even these words don't do justice for what love really is. It is always going to be so much more, so much that will be left unsaid...

I must say that I've fallen in love. It is a wonderful and marvelous feeling that seems as fragile as a heart spun of glass - you hold it carefully least it be shattered. The world of Narnia is my new love and obsession. For as long as I can remember every time I was sick and had to stay homne from school my mother would bundle me up in a large blanket and place me on the couch (mostly to keep and eye on me) and put in the BBC t.v. version of "the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." This would enchant me for hours on end, I would be too caught up in the story and the wonder of Narnia to even complain about being sick and how horrible I felt. After the movie ended I would go read as many of the books in the series as I possible could get through. During this time I would wish so desperately that I was Lucy or Susan and that I had an older brother as wonderful as Peter instead of an older sister who acted like Edmund and Eustace. I lay in bed and stared up at the celling and imagined having tea with a faun or going dancing with the Nyiads and the Dyiads. I wanted to be tossed up in the air by Aslan's great paws and caught again only to be sent tumbling down a grassy green laughing so hard that I could barely catch my breath. I wated to fight the White Witch and her evil hords of ogres and goblins, to have an adventure as pure and wonderful as theirs.