A Lesson in Southern Speak Because I Miss English

"thow" - Throw

"yo mane" - not an accidental mispronouncitation of Lo Mein, it means "you're mean"

"cream taters" - mashed potatoes

"are they?" - this does not necessarily refer to people. It doesn't even have anything to do with the the pronoun "they" - it's used instead of "are there"

richair- right there

richairyonder; richonder; richonderdare- right over there

Groshy - grocery

pelluh- pillow

aintcha- aren't you

ainta- aren't I

pess- past

bane- bean

caint- can't

Doe- door

seed- saw

tooah- to have (he like tooa fell...[trans] simply- he almost fell... literally, he was about to have fallen)

hain't - haven't or don't, depending on the usage

ate- eat; eat is pronounced et

pays- peas

And the phrases these people use!

hain't got none noways.
trans. I haven't any, anyway. or: I don't have any, anyway.

hain't never done nothin/went nowhere
Trans. I haven't ever done anything/ been anywhere

They use... double double negatives or something. Double negative doubles? Negative doubles? Like double sharps in music. It really very sad.

I have to translate in order to understand them. It's insane.
Please, someone, reassure me that there is a place out there where people speak English instead of this!

but at when at first, for i read it as nabob.

That, Brian, is what I originally typed on your wall. It was one of the very few times that I actually looked up to check and see if I had made any major typos. I don't really know exactly what I was thinking when I composed that part of the sentence, but even I couldn't understand it. It amused me and I thought about leaving it, but I decided against that. I could see you making the dissappointed face that Kristen always talks about. I thought it would entertain some of you, though so that's why I put here (despite the dissappointed look). I think that being roommates with Jill and then coming back to Alabama has been a bad thing for me. I think it's mostly the Alabama part. I mean, at least "at-here-food-place" made some sort of sense. Perhaps, I'm just really tired. My day did start at 5:30am and almost all of my days now start at 6:30am- 7:00am; I litterally dream about next semester when my earliest class is at 10:40. Ah, bliss!

Oh, but what a day! it was "take Dad to the airport day" where he would catch a plane from Birmingham to Houston at 8am, then fly from Houston to Tulsa, from Tulsa to Salt Lake City, and from Salt Lake City to Billings, Montana where his boss would be waiting to pick him up and drive him 200 miles to Sheridan, Wyoming. SO we got there in plenty of time, went to the desk that the itenerary said to go to, where he waited for fifteen minutes and then was told "this is the wrong desk". After crossing the airport to the correct desk and waiting there for ten minutes, he was told "this flight has been overbooked... but I think you can still get a seat," which took another ten minutes or so. Then it was time for security check. In a line that streched from the security check point to the Continental ticket counter, which, unless you've been to the Birmingham airport, is worthless information to you, so think of it as from...Villa 1 to Villa 6. Quite long for Birmingham. Of course, his flight was called while he was in the line. He had just passed the ID taker woman. So my mother went to the Continental counter and asked if there was any way they could make sure the plane didn't leave. Next thing I knew "Could Continental passenger ______ please come to the ticket counter" was blaring over the loudspeaker. Turns out, the flight was full and they had locked it so he wouldn't have been able to get on anyway. The ticket people were really nice though, they tried so hard to get him on that plane. They spent twenty minutes trying to find a flight that wasn't booked with continental. They had to send him on Northwest. But this way he only had to fly BHM to Memphis, Memphis to Minneapolis, and Minneapolis to Billings. Unfortunately, the connecting flight from Minneapolis was delayed an hour so he's still somewhere in the air. My poor father.

Boys, You Shouldn't Leave Fishing Lures in Your Pockets

They get caught in the little wholes in the washer and it takes twenty minutes to unhook them. And they rip your sisters' jeans.

I watched Spider Man Three again yesterday. It made me miss you guys. But the commentaries of little people were funny.

"It's dark in here. Really dark. Like it was in the tomb."
"What tomb?"
"You know, umm, Jesus' tomb."

"is love wonderful?"

"When are they going to make a movie where Spider Man looses? This is getting too predictable."


It wasn't quite as bad the second time. But I'm still of the opinion that it tried for cheesy and failed. Cheese is good. This was like fake cheesy. Like velveeta or worse, kraft singles. Although, this time I did manage not to laugh because Tobey Maguire can't cry. And I saw the lady on the stage do the head thing. Ha. But if I were to write a review it be: "Spiderman Three: A Film to Sleep Through." That's what I did both times. Although, I slept through different parts of both times. But I really liked the film's music.

Then we went to a friend's house and I spoke to Lauren for a long time. (Which sounds awfully rude but it wasn't. They have a very spoiled only daughter who won't saty by herself and they were out and it was raining and my parents went out with her parents and so the 7 of us were there). And then we came home and the others watched The Illusionist which made me miss you guys even more.

Sometimes I wish I had never studied music or theology. It's sad to me what happens at Mass in many places. NEWSFALSH: The Mass is not about us.

WHAT? You're kidding me! We're Christ's body! We're the Church! We're all one huge family (and totally NOT dysfunctional, never) We this and we that. Gather US in, WE are the light of world, I come here...

Besides that fact that the music is at best hard for a congregation to sing and slipshod, the words are at best vague about the truths of the faith. More often than not they can be interpreted heretically. In the words of C.S. Lewis, they are "fifth-rate poetry set to sixth-rate music." Unfortunately, these songs have become the norm, the norm of ignorance: ignorance of the history and purpose of sacred music, ignorance of the nobleness, beauty, and awesomeness of the Mass, and hence, ignorance of the Catholic faith and of God.

In the "spirit of Vatican II" composers and those that call themselves liturgists or liturgical musicians, in an effort to get the congregation more invovled, have accomplished the exact opposite; they have repulsed and silenced the congregation. The voices booming (or squeaking, or squalking)through the microphones are the only ones that are heard. (And sadly, most of them are not worth hearing.)

Many of the musical compostions for the English translations of the Gloria, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei are confusing and hard to learn. Music should inform the listeners of the "attitude" of the lyrics. The Gloria is not a dirge; it should not be sung like one. The Agnus Dei is a plea for mercy, not a happy little ditty about us. Today at Mass the Lamb of God was very peppy; my four year old brother bounced up and down to keep time. It was also very hard to sing. It jumped octaves! In the middle of a syllable! Twice! In the same syllable. There were many trills and embellishments. It did not fit the words at all.

The Mass is not our weekly free hour of entertainment. My job as a musician is NOT to perform. (This is very hard for many musicians to understand; don't even get me started on cantors.) My job as a musician is to help souls worship by singing or playing music that is fitting for the Mass; music that by its very nature and its compostion allows the soul to hear God's goodness and majesty reflected. It is better to have no music at all than to have a concert. The music should not be distracting to the congregation. The quality of the music should not distract (or annoy) the congregation. If you can't find a decent number of people who sing decently to be in the choir, then don't have a choir at all. The chorus setting of your electric organ should not come on in the middle of the Gloria, scaring people and causing them to look up in the choir loft and see what happened while drowning out the complicated melody making any attempt to sing it futile.

The words, too, are supposed to mean something. I, personally, cannot figure out what meaning "Gather us In" and "All are Welcome" have except to give ourselves a pat on the back. The Servant Song? I just don't get it. Let's come to Mass and sing songs about how great we are. Oh wait, the congregation doesn't sing anymore. Wonder why...

Did you know that a Rat smells in "3d"?

I didn't. Apparently, their sense of smell is thousands of times better than ours. It's funny what little minds are curious about. That was Dan's question: "how far do rats smell." Dom's was "what's in a nose." My question is why would anyone care how far a rat can smell enough to do scientific research to find the answer. And why does it matter?

These are the kind of things that I miss when I am in Georgia.

I finally got to cook! Tommorow I clean. I've read three books just because. I've put little ones to bed and played their favorite songs on the piano. (This is quite an accomplishment since almost anytime i play, someone says "STOP!") I feel a little less out-of-place when I do these things. Although it's hard not to out of place when you sleep on couch, have no where to call your own space (I did not realize how important this was to me) and are living out of a suitcase in the place you used to call home...