♪♫♫♫♫♫♫♪

And in the end, it doesn't even matter

2011-10-26T03:34:00.000-05:00

This week has been more than a little rough, to say the least. It was the kind of week that slaps you in the face, punches you in the gut, steals your money, and runs like hell. It was the kind of week you want to yell at God and your friends and tell them exactly how mad you are and how uncool they are. Don't even let me start on how it makes you feel about the people you have a hard time liking.

At the same time, it was the kind of week that makes you beyond grateful; grateful to have known such a stellar soul, grateful to have friends who will let you yell at them and then spend hours talking to you and drawing you out from your grief, grateful for the kind look from the professor who couldn't help but notice the tears you were desperately trying to hold back as you asked what he'd like for lunch or the father who saw you crying at Mass and put down his sleeping child so that he could reach out and say "Peace be with you", grateful for hugs from coworkers, and kind words from total strangers whose life was also touched by a friend, even though they had never met him.

It was the kind of week that makes you seriously think; about life, and it's unpredictably and fragility, about direction and where to go and what you're doing with your life, about pain and suffering, death, loss, and what really matters. And the truth is, honestly? In the end.... very little matters.

Though I am young, I am not new to grief. I have thought these thoughts before. While I loved my cousin, I did not know my cousin very well, and though this may be selfish, I mourned that I didn't know him, more than I was able to mourn his life. My friend, Kevin, who died in 2009 was a good friend, but we hadn't seen each other in over a year. We kept in touch, and I missed him, and his death shook me, but never quite as much as this week has. Perhaps it is the combination of all of these deaths that has helped make this week so difficult, because when I think of these things, I do not always think of one individually, but often, of the three of them.

Jon was a good friend mine, but he was one of my best friend's closest friend. I would often get frustrated with both of them, because they would rarely do anything separately and Scharf generally got the better deal. I would tease them about their "bromance" and give them a hard time about ditching me. And in end, when he's gone - what does it even matter? The answer is... it REALLY doesn't. Scharf was in Ave before the accident. They had told me that they were gonna chill with some other friends that Friday and wanted me to come. I had Fridays off and was really looking forward to it. Thursday night, I was told that I would have to work Friday. Getting someone to cover a 14 hour shift on Friday is impossible. Weighing that in my mind along with the fact that it was 14 hours which I would otherwise lose, I told them I would have to work and would have to catch up with Scharf on his next trip to FL. That 14 hours? What does it matter? It matters not at all. I could have made it without those hours. And while I couldn't have known that it would be my last chance to ever hang out with Scharf, it still makes you think. I HATE getting my picture taken. As a result, I have no pictures with either of my friends. What does the frizz that I perceive in my hair or the blemish on my skin matter now? It doesn't. Not one bit. (Especially now that I know how to edit pictures better...).

I am lucky to know 3 good men who died, men who showed true characteristics of greatness. It's a great comfort to know that their lives have impacted so many people for the better.

So be sure and kiss your children, call your mom and tell her that love her, drop a note of thanks to a friend, take that picture of you and your loved one even if it's crazy stupid, talk to the sibling(s) you've been avoiding, smile at the stranger instead of scowling. Let go of the anger (easier said than done. Trust me, I know this), let go of the awkward silences. Find a way to turn those into love before the Things That Really Don't Matter After They're Gone, become the Things I Should Have Done or Said.

Farewell for now

2011-10-22T04:54:00.000-05:00

Today is the type of day that a person dreads, the type of day you never want to see: the day when you say your final farewells to a friend and he is laid to rest in his final resting place on earth.

Today is also the first feast day of Blessed Pope John Paul II, a man Jon admired and emulated, which adds even more poignancy to this day. Blessed JPII's motto "Be not afraid" was truly lived out by Jon. He was a guy who was not afraid to swim against the current, or to blaze a new trail. He had just launched the "Pregnant on Campus Initiative" with the goal of getting resources and help to parenting college students. (See him in action here and here ) It was quite amazing to listen to him speak in philosophy classes ( I particularly enjoyed my Aesthetics class with him).

I will miss discussing art and politics and life and what to do when people disappoint you and drinks and dancing and everything with him. I was blessed to have seen him one more time a couple of weeks before he died. This is something I wrote a couple days ago, but want to put it here.

Jon WAS a very good man and a good friend. I will miss him very much. Every day for work, I walk by the window where he used to sit and work on the Pro Life banquet or other projects for SFL at AMU, where he’d make faces at me or make fun of me from. It saddens me beyond belief to know that I will not see that goofy smile again in this life.
In the original articles in the Macon newspaper, only Kortney and the other driver were listed as victims. Yesterday, when reporting Jon’s death, the newspaper also listed Sophy (they did not name her, but they did include her) as a victim of this terrible tragedy. I truly believe that this is a testament to Jon’s work and proof that even his death will not stop his fight for the unborn in this world.

He and Kortney will be guiding this movement from Heaven.Jon, I was blessed to have known you. Farewell, and rest in peace, my beautiful friend.

The World has Lost a(nother) Beautiful Soul

2011-10-18T21:07:00.000-05:00

And we have lost a wonderful friend, Jonathan Daniel Scharfenberger, champion of the unborn. I do not think that words can describe how much he will be missed by those he leaves behind. It is a shame that the world will not see your smile or hear you crack a joke again. But I am very grateful for the chance to have seen it and to be amused by your sense of humor. Rest in peace, Scharf.

‎"When the time comes, as it surely will, when we face that awesome moment, thefinal judgment, I've often thought, as Fulton Sheen wrote, that it is a terrible moment of loneliness. You have no advocates, you are there alone standing before God -- and a terror will rip your soul like nothing you can imagine. But I really think that those in the pro-life movement will not be alone. I think there'll be a chorus of voices that have never been heard in this world but are heard beautifully and clearly in the next world -- and they will plead for everyone who has been in this movement. They will say to God, 'Spare him, because he loved us!'"

I wish my house would do this

2011-09-29T04:52:00.002-05:00

On the subject of...

2011-09-11T04:48:00.003-05:00

As Catholics, we have a incredibly rich heritage of Art: music, painting, sculpting, architecture, literature - all of these enrich our Tradition amazingly. Yet in never really occurred to me how many different expressions of the same subject there are until recently. And the other day, this was really cemented for me when I was reading about a painting, that after years and years of uncertainty, was confirmed to be Leonardo da Vinci's "Salvator Mundi". Because we have those in music too. So I thought that I would put together in a post some art, some music, and some writing all focused on Jesu, Salvator Mundi.

Jesu, Salvator Mundi

I am going to put these first, not because I think they are more important, but because I think it is edifying to listen to the music, read the words, and see the images as a unit, rather than as individual examples.

From the Dialogues of St. Catherine (of Sienna)

“So it happened that Catherine, being arrived at the age of six, went one day with her brother Stephen, who was a little older than herself, to the house of their sister Bonaventura, who was married to one Niccol˜, as has been mentioned above, in order to carry something or give some message from their mother Lapa. Their mother’s errand accomplished, while they were on the way back from their sister’s house to their own and were passing along a certain valley, called by the people Valle Piatta, the holy child, lifting her eyes, saw on the opposite side above the Church of the Preaching Friars a most beautiful room, adorned with regal magnificence, in which was seated, on an imperial throne, Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world, clothed in pontifical vestments, and wearing on His head a papal tiara; with Him were the princes of the Apostles, Peter and Paul, and the holy evangelist John. Astounded at such a sight, Catherine stood still, and with fixed and immovable look, gazed, full of love, on her Savior, who, appearing in so marvelous a manner, in order sweetly to gain her love to Himself, fixed on her the eyes of His Majesty, and, with a tender smile, lifted over her His right hand, and, making the sign of the Holy Cross in the manner of a bishop, left with her the gift of His eternal benediction. The grace of this gift was so efficacious, that Catherine, beside herself, and transformed into Him upon whom she gazed with such love, forgetting not only the road she was on, but also herself, although naturally a timid child, stood still for a space with lifted and immovable eyes in the public road, where men and beasts were continually passing, and would certainly have continued to stand there as long as the vision lasted, had she not been violently diverted by others. But while the Lord was working these marvels, the child Stephen, leaving her standing still, continued his way down hill, thinking that she was following, but, seeing her immovable in the distance and paying no heed to his calls, he returned and pulled her with his hands, saying: ‘What are you doing here? why do you not come?’ Then Catherine, as if waking from a heavy sleep, lowered her eyes and said: ‘Oh, if you had seen what I see, you would not distract me from so sweet a vision!’ and lifted her eyes again on high; but the vision had entirely disappeared, according to the will of Him who had granted it, and she, not being able to endure this without pain, began with tears to reproach herself for having turned her eyes to earth.” Such was the “call” of St. Catherine of Siena, and, to a mind intent on mystical significance, the appearance of Christ, in the semblance of His Vicar, may fitly appear to symbolize the great mission of her after-life to the Holy See.

da Vinci's 'Salvator Mundi'

Fra Bartolomeo

Domenico Fetti

St. Agnes' in NY State

Titian

Not really sure about this one

I just liked it.

Same with this one.

"Jesus, Saviour of the world, come to the assistance of Your children, who, through Your blood, You have saved."

It's such a big shoe store...

2011-01-10T12:12:00.000-05:00

Well, it's here. One hundred twenty-five thousand dollars and four and a half years later, I'm no longer a student. But now... now I am faced with the inevitable question of "what next???" I think it's even more scary than "how am I going to pay for this?" or "what major should I choose?" (which for me was quite scary. I chose four different ones between freshman and junior year and changed schools completely after I decided). Right now, I am in a merciful state of limbo: I am renting a house near the university until September while I have three jobs and will hopefully be able to save a decent amount of money so that I can afford whatever does come next.

It's kind of funny: I've worked so hard to get here and now, I've got so many options that I feel like someone just handed me a significant gift to card to a really great shoe store (that doesn't practice big feet discrimination.) What pair do I try on first? And do I have to buy the first pair that I try on? That's some pressure, right there. What if I pick the wrong ones? What if they don't fit. Do I want the comfortable, practical ones or the ones that are maybe not the most comfortable but that are so incredibly cute (and knowing me, probably purple) that it really doesn't matter how badly my feet hurt when I finally do take them off. What if the gift card isn't enough to cover it? Do I really want to be stuck with this particular pair of shoes for the rest of my life? Am I sure I didn't just accidentally walk into the tattoo parlor, not the shoe store????

Do I continue my studies? And if so, in what direction? Music? Law? Education? Psychology? Photography? Culinary arts? Is it normal to have a choice field so broad? Although I suppose that if I am honest, I know that photography and culinary schools are in places five and six. I'm not incredibly interested in going to grad school for music, and there is only one place where I'm qualified to study Psychology (that I know of. IPS). Which helps to narrow down the list.

Do I just enter the workforce as an enthusiastic young person with lots of debt to pay off and therefore willing to work nights and weekends? But in what field? Yay for lots of resume filling experiences (for a 22 year old) and liberal arts educations, yeah?

So many options, so many choices. Lucky for me, I do not have to make them today. Today, I'm not going to worry about that. Today, I'm simply going to enjoy my first official day off. And my first day of not returning to the classroom. For now, anyway.

Black, Brown and White

2010-07-18T12:33:00.001-05:00

Since October of 2008, I've been an employee of FSI (food service) at Ave Maria University. Ave is located in Southwest Florida, near a small town called Immokalee. Immokalee is a town populated largely by immigrants - both legal and illegal - from Mexico, Haiti, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic especially. It is probably one of the poorest places in all of Florida with the average yearly salary of just over $17,000 which contrasts nicely with Naples (about 40 minutes away) where the median income is close to $100,000 a year and the median house/condo price is more than $800,000.

Naples is where really rich people retire. Their backyard in Immokalee is where really poor people are sometimes enslaved. ( http://www.ciw-online.org/ ) It's quite the difference. Some of my coworkers at FSI are from Haiti and Mexico and Cuba and Argentina and ..well, you get the picture. I think there may be four Americans working there total: me, my boss, the director, and one of the chefs. LOL. A lot of my coworkers live in Immokalee. Some live in Naples (but definitely not the richer part). I've always respected these people, but since I've been working there more this summer and it's slower, these people have really come to wriggle their ways into my heart. There's Roberto, from Argentina, whose wife is actually a bio professor here. She's had cancer for a while and he works in the kitchen with us. I'm not sure what his story is, but it must be really rough for him. He has two teenage girls and a sick wife. He's always smiling. He makes fun of me for.. a lot of things and he laughs as much as I do (which if you know me, you know is quites a bit). Then there's Cesar, a chef from Cuba. I also don't know his story because he speaks very little English, though he has started to pick up more and more. Our conversations are rarely more than 2 minutes, but somehow, we always manage to have a laugh at something. Sometimes he even makes fun of me. Then there is Bruno. He's one of my favorites. He's from Haiti and he left a wife and a little baby girl there. He's very dedicated and works hours that I would never want (though I think I am getting them the week after next. LOL). When I describe him to people they always - not one person hasn't yet- say "oh you mean the one who always smiles and is so happy?" Yes. That's the one. The one who even when he didn't know if his family was alive for more than a week still came to work and still smiled. There's Daisy, the daughter of Mexican immigrants, a highschooler in Immokalee. She's worked at FSI longer than I have and everyone loves her. Her biggest dream is to get into FSU or FGCU. She's determined, realistic, and super sweet. She's got a good head on her shoulders and I hope to highest heavens that she succeeds. I think she will. There's Illar, the other Cuban chef, whose stories from Cuba always either entertain or humble me. He's held down two or three jobs consistently while putting himself through trade school since he's been here. He learned English and expects others at work to do so as well. I think it is his influence that swayed Cesar to learn. I don't know a single person in the kitchen who doesn't like him or respect him and I've seen several people treat him horridly because of where he's from.

I've lived in Alabama and as much as I hate to say it, I've seen racism since I was in grade school. I remember one girl pulling another girl off the slide by the hood on her jacket for no real reason except that she was black and ahead of her in line. But I've seen so much racism this summer that I've been re-appalled all over. I've seen one of my (now former) coworkers say things to them that were entirely uncalled for. I've seen students automatically assume that I owned Illar's really awesome truck that we were using to carry tables to the pool, just because I'm the white one and he's the brown one. Then I saw him shrug and say "It's ok. They liked my truck."

No, it's not ok. It's not ok to have someone tell them that they deserve the menial kitchen tasks because of where they're from. It's not ok for someone to automatically assume that they are here mooching off the welfare system. It's not ok that they are disliked because of their accents (which I usually think are pretty cool) or their skin. It's just not ok. And it's not ok for someone to tell them that because of where they were born or what they look like, they can't take care of their families and they aren't welcome here. I really think this new Arizona legislation is a hideous thing. It won't solve any problems, it will just create more hatred.

I realize that there all sorts of legal and political things that go along with border patrol and such. And I am lucky that I work with people who are here legally. But if they weren't here legally, I don't see the how someone could say "yeah, they should just leave. In fact, they shouldn't be here in the first place." Why shouldn't they? Can you imagine what it's like to live under Fidel Castro (and, from what I'm told, it's actually worse under his brother) or Hugo Chavez or to live in some poverty ridden place deemed "the most dangerous place on earth"? Can you? It's not like you told God where you wanted to go and He graciously put you there. We just got lucky in where we were born. That person who grew up in the slums of Port Au Prince, that could have been me or you or anyone. So why.. why would we say that just because you weren't born here, you shouldn't come and sure as Hell won't be welcomed if you do? What gives us the right to decide that someone is less than human because of where they were born? I've had people tell me that "you can't make immigration a personal matter". What? How can you not? These are, after all, persons we are talking about. Persons that other persons love and depend on. Persons that have probably endured more suffering than most Americans will in a lifetime. And yet... we would like to think of them as somehow less than a person?

I don't know any solution, I don't know anything except that what I've seen this summer is sad and the people I work with are kind of amazing. But I leave with this:

‎"No human being-no matter how poor or how weak- can be reduced to just a problem" - Archbishop Thomas Wenski (Archdioceses of Miami) July 1, 2010

And I ask you to keep Bruno in your prayers. For the first time in over a year, he's going to visit his wife and child!

From the "Adult Child" Perspective

2010-06-04T23:03:00.001-05:00

Homeschooling, specifically "unschooling" has been in the news quite a bit lately, what with this story of Dominic Johansson, seized by Swedish authorities 10 months ago as his family was fleeing to a country where they could legally homeschool, and this segment on Good Morning America (with this rebuttal at The Huffington Post ). It has set me thinking quite a bit. I'm spread out on my dorm room floor, with my books, and my laptop, and my food (haha), writing a paper about the political, musical and philosophical idioms present in Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio and reflecting.

Tonight I sang in 90 voice choir with members of the Naples Philharmonic Orchestra. Last year, my professor told our chamber choir that we were all quite capable of singing in professional choirs, if we work. I can sing opera arias and Schubert lieder and complex polyphony. I can write in the style of Palestrina and Bach (though not well, yet) and can analyze the heck out of a Beethoven sonata. It amazes me because this is a field that I never thought I'd ever "be good enough" in to study.

My mother took me out of the public school system after I finished 6th grade at age 12. At first, I was not really happy about it. And at first it was rather difficult for all parties to adjust, I think. But eventually we got the hang of it - or we at least pretended to.

My first formal exposure to music was when I began taking piano lessons at age 7ish. I also sang in the choir then, but I don't think I could call that formal. In the 5th grade I started playing clarinet in the school "band" which had a total of eight members in four grades, three of whom played sax. After we began homeschooling, there was a need for high school art credits and a we had a friend who wanted to start a children's chant group. For close to six years, we sang chant ordinaries, hymns, antiphons and early polyphonic pieces. This was probably my most... life-forming encounter with music. I love chant, but it wasn't with that that I fell in love. It was the polyphony. Palestrina? Victoria? I absolutely love them. Des Prez? So gorgeous. And intricate. And ... just amazing. My mother signed me up for a class at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Resource Center to take a theory class where I learned that I am actually capable of studying music. Every year for about 7 years I was able to go to a chant conference in Auburn, AL (or Roswell, GA or Ave Maria, FL) run by the St. Cecilia Schola. It was there that I met Jeffrey Tucker, Arlene Oost-Zinner, Dr. William Mahrt, and Mr. Scott Turkington. They're kinda big shots in the Catholic Liturgical/ Sacred Music world. And that's kind of an understatement. (Who knew Alabama was such a hubbub of Catholic culture, eh?)

It was at the last conference held in Auburn that I learned that my fellowship application to start a Gregorian Schola at Southern Catholic College had been accepted. My first thought was "Holy crow. WHAT have I gotten myself into???" Mr. Turkington's were "That's absolutely wonderful!" I was not so sure. He was. And I probably have him to thank that I didn't back out right then and there. He gave me books to help me out. He talked to me about strategies and plans during his free time. He also told me to check into to the three week chant practicum at Catholic U. So I did. And thanks to Fr. Robert Skeris I was able to go. To D.C. By myself. For three weeks. (It was really great. I did a lot of touristy things and met some awesome people and I also got to hear the National Symphony Orchestra twice; once they played the 1812 Overture WITH CANONS. Stevie Wonder, Michael Bolton and Vanessa Williams were also there. It was so great. But that's a different story.)

When I got to SCC, I had some skills (though I doubted them at the time), I had a plan, and, I had a schola. Eventually the schola developed into the first choir at Southern Catholic. When that happened, a group of five of us still continued to get together and sing. And then we were recruited to sing at a few events around Atlanta - fundraisers for the school and such. One event was at an Atlanta hospital. There was a big gala/ reception thrown by the Serra Club for a group of sisters who played a big role in the comfort and care of patients at the hospital. It was a very interesting experience to sing this: for a group of Sisters in cargo pants. (I have nothing at all against them. We just tend to have different views when it comes to musical taste.) It was interesting to see the reactions of people hearing a group of five random college students sing music like that.

Personally, I had a lot fun singing like that. It was challenging to learn new pieces, it was frightening to perform them. It was a blast. So I switched schools. I'm now in my (hopefully) final semester at Ave Maria University and in December, I will be certifiably Bad A$$ when I complete my Bachelor of Arts degree in vocal music with a concentration in Sacred Music. For the past two years I have sung with some of the most talented people I've ever met. I got into the chamber choir (20 students as opposed to AMU Choir which has 80). I have studied with some very learned professors and gained insight into every aspect of life that you could ever think imaginable and then some. I've developed a sense of self and of purpose. And why am I saying all this? Because I doubt that had I stayed in public schools, I would have gone on this journey. Maybe I would have. I can't really say. But having been "unschooled" I was able to focus on music in a way that probably would have been discouraged in my school. I say that because there had been other academic endeavors from which I had been discouraged. My school was not a bad school. It was just a systematic school; one which had no bend room for people who didn't really fit the system - like my sister who was reading at 9th grade reading level when she was 9. AR was fun for her. (not).

I think the biggest thing that I have learned is go for it. If you sit around thinking "I can't" - well- you won't. If you want something, it's up to you to make it happen. Some people would call it rash and stupid. I say life is an adventure and I am following the advice of Dr. Seuss:

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.

It's opener there
in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And then things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.

OH!
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You'll be on y our way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't.
Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.

You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.

You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.

And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles cross weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You'll be as famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don't
Because, sometimes they won't.

I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike,
And I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never foget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
You're off the Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.

So...get on your way!

On Granola Bars and Food Processors

2010-04-15T13:55:00.000-05:00

I love granola bars. REAL Granola bars. Not chewy chocolate chip coasted in sugar to make me actually taste good granola bars. My favorite was the Nature's Valley kind. I'd eat them breakfast. I'd eat them for snacks. Once I even ate one for lunch.

Not any more. :(

However, a couple weeks ago, I went to a nutrition seminar and the facilitator gave out samples of Larabars. These things were very intriguing. And they have two ingredients: nuts and dates. They were REALLY good and the perfect substitute for waking up in the morning and rushing to class while still managing to have a decent breakfast bars. They are in the "energy bar" and "dieting bar" section (at Publix) and... they are not cheap. lol. I've seen worse, but still they come out to about $1.25 a piece.

So... today, I dragged out my blender, put in some dates and some peanuts (I wanted cashews, but I ate them all. oops. Planters were B1G1!) Anyway, I came out with...

and now, I have my very own breakfast on the go bars. THAT I MADE! I think they taste a little better, too. The others are slightly more dry than mine. I think I may need to put these in the fridge, but they may be just fine. Either way, I'm super excited.

I feel like these are just really great in general. I would make them for my brothers (they loved my granola bars lol) and they are so much better for you than a cookie. lol. They're perfect for snacks after playing/fishing/reading/exploring all day.

I think I'll play around with combos of different nuts and fruits. Maybe prunes would be good. I see on the larabar website they have all sorts of flavours (at publix they only have three. lol) I have come to the conclusion that I should invest in a food processor, though. The blender has unequal distribution that makes the stuff in the bottom buttery ish while the stuff on top is not.

Simple Things

2010-04-12T19:38:00.001-05:00

Every Sunday, one of the Ave professors brings his family to eat in the cafeteria after the 12:30 Mass. I think the entire staff enjoys seeing them there. They are really little (I doubt the oldest one is more than 8) and I think there are five of them. They are well behaved and polite. They will also randomly break into Spanish, which delights the majority of the staff (who cannot speak English or who speak it as a second language), especially since some of them take after their mother and sport blonde hair and blue eyes.

Not only are the children lovely, but so are Dr. and Mrs M. Dr. M will will have children climbing all over him, or he'll toss them up in the air and catch them and they shriek with delight (remember those days? lol), sometimes Mrs. M will have books and there will be small children gathered around listening to her read. And Dr. and Mrs. M interact with each other in a wonderful way. It's just... absolutely wonderful to see this family. They are one of my favourite "professor families" here. One of my friends said, "that family always makes me happy. It's like, my dream future family".

On Easter Sunday, I was working. For work, it was a rather laid back kind of day. It was super slow, anyway, since most students went home for Easter. My boss (Chuck) had a "dinner with the director" set up where students could go and eat with his family and it was actually really nice. Actually, we basically got paid to play with his kids and nephew.

Dr. M and his family walked in, and though they didn't stay, the oldest boy came up to me and said "Excuse me, are you the cashier today?" "Yes, I am, do you need help?" "No, but I left something on the counter for you" So he took me over to the counter and shows me....

A package of iridescent stickers.

Really Awesome Iridescent Stickers on the back of my key card.

The picture does not do them justice.

Let me just say, they are REALLY Awesome iridescent stickers. I put them on the back cover of my phone (I have a touch screen, so the front is not an option, lol) and people will be like, "what is that on your phone?" and I show them and they are amused for minutes at time. I am at a university that is known for its academic rigor.They are freakin' awesome stickers. LOL. Anyway, that MADE MY EASTER! It's the only Easter present I got this year. haha (oh the hardships of being at college).

Today we (the other cashier and I) put a Dr. Seuss thank you card in Dr. M's mailbox. Because, it really really did make our Easter day so much happier. In fact, just looking at them makes me happy. So I had to tell you all, too. :)

Good Friday

2010-04-02T10:28:00.000-05:00

In music:

Catholic Win

2010-04-01T16:47:00.002-05:00

Experiments in Gluten Free Eating

2010-03-30T20:28:00.009-05:00

I think it runs in the family.

Looking over at my sister's blog and over at my mother's blog I found that... well... they talk a lot about food. We love good food (something kind of hard to come by on a college's meal plan...). They however, are talking about bread food. It's one of my favorite foods. And it also happens to now be a forbidden food. :(

I recently realized that I have problems eating wheat or gluten, I'm not 100% sure which. I guess it doesn't really matter because it's pretty hard to find bread that doesn't have them. Well... unless you like to eat cardboard, then there are plenty of options. I...really don't care for cardboard that much. But I love bread, pasta, FRIED CHICKEN :( , onion rings, fried shrimp (ok... I'm a southern kid, I like almost everything fried...) gravy on mashed potatoes, cheddar chips (they have some form of wheat in the flavoring, biscuits, chicken Parmesan, you name it... it probably has wheat in it.

At first I was just... bemoaning a fate of never eating fried chicken or homemade wheat bread again. But, I've found that it's not so bad. I eat healthier (I get lots and lots of remarks about how healthy and delicious my salads look at lunch. hehe) I haven't eaten fried food or pizza in THREE WEEKS! I would usually eat it at least once a day (french fries are easy foods...). The other day, I was able to buy some gluten free biscuit mix. It was ok. Not great. I wouldn't use it again. It tasted more like cornbread than biscuits. BUT I managed to redeem it:

WIth some turkey and tomato, muenster cheese and ...french onion dip (that I checked for any sort of wheat derivative in) because I am also allergic to eggs and cannot eat mayonnaise, it made a decent lunch. That is the closest thing to a sandwich I've had in a what seems like forever (since they were a staple. I ate them literally every day...). Some guy said to me the other day "make me a sammich woman!" (Catholic college guys' joke, much?) but I refuse to make any man a sandwich while I cannot eat one.

Today, I decided to cook for the week. I've been kind of just doing whatever. A lot of times I wind up eating just salads which leave me hungry. Or else, I ask one of the cooks to make me something special (I'm not the only one who does this) or if I am at work, I'll just find something and fix it myself. It gets a little annoying to eat the same things, though. So today, I started with this:

which after a while I managed to make look like this:

so that I was able to carry it all at once to a building that has a stove.

First thing on the list was dinner: Zucchini pasta. I had a vague idea about it: I wanted something good. With mushrooms. I have no idea why, but today I really wanted mushrooms. When I got to the kitchen I decided I wanted onions and peppers in there as well. So, I sautéed some onions and peppers while I sliced the zucchini. Well, really I just peeled it to the seeds with a peeler. Easier that way. After the onions began to caramelize, I added the zucchini and mushrooms. After about three minutes, it was ready. EXCEPT... it needed sauce. Meat sauce. So, I threw some of the beef and pork that I had browned in and added some spaghetti sauce, sprinkled some cheese on top and....

it was really good.

I also tried some tinkyada brown rice penne. I was surprised.... it tasted...almost normal. O.o Joy!

Then there was the margarita chicken. THe other day, I was CRAVING Chili's margarita chicken... so I made my own. Complete with rice, refried beans, guacamole, and pico de gallo ...or rather, an imitation of pico de gallo. This was the finished product:

Tacos and chili were the final end of the rest of the browned meat. I also made some meatballs so (with, of course, the solemn exception of Good Friday) I am good for the week!

I also made some dessert. (In anticipation of Sunday!) You know that the kid in you loves these. Going for weeks without a single cookie or cake or even pumpkin or banana bread ... built up. I caved in a bought Rice Crispies and marshmallows. (I am highly glad that I still can eat these)

Updating

2010-03-20T11:53:00.000-05:00

Because I haven't in a while.

After I moved to Florida (and away from the people who I associate with this blog) I did not do a very good job of keeping up with almost anyone, and I did not do a good job updating this blog. This could be because my school work load has doubled and my work time is weekends which leaves me with very little time at all. Now it is Spring break and I have free time for the first time in I don't know how long. Can I just say, spring break is pretty much the best thing ever invented. And I don't care if Dr. Hartmann would disagree because I'm not using my break to go home and help put crops in the ground.

Not that I could really go home if I wanted. My family now travels the country in an RV with my "secret agent" dad. Whose job apparently did actually bring him to some government facility with an official sounding name that I forget. Area... something... 34? Maybe. Anyway, here's the update:

In August of 2008, I applied and was accepted into Ave Maria University's Sacred Music program. It was a far cry from the philosophy that I was used to. I do love it, though. Even though sometimes I wish Beethoven wasn't dead so I could kill him myself. Well... at least yell at him. (Of course, even that wouldn't help as he was deaf.) It's very challenging, but very wonderful. I have no idea what I will do with a music degree. Some people think I should teach, but I am not sure that I am too keen on that idea.

Right now, I almost ready to say, I don't really care WHAT I do as long as I wind up in Colorado. Have you ever been to Colorado???? It is only the best state in the Union! Absolutely gorgeous, and it has clean air, to boot! lol.

Call me crazy, but I am really determined to get back there. The decorations on my walls are a map of Colorado and several paintings of Colorado that my sister gave me. Because I am obsessed. I even have Colorado realty magazine subscriptions. Not that I'm going to buy... but it's good to know my options... right?

I'm excited because my best friend is from Colorado and wants me to come visit this summer. Any excuse will do... :D hehehe.

I like to think he's chatting with Auinas and Augustine

2009-09-30T19:38:00.004-05:00

May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Real American Catholic Heritage

2009-09-16T19:47:00.004-05:00

Music composed during the Baroque period (contemporaneously with Bach-ish) in America, in California/Mexico at the Missions, so it is influenced by European and Spanish colonies' folk music. But still American, as it was composed by either natives or children/grandchildren of colonists.) (YES, THEY ARE ALL MEN SINGING!) I can't figure out if I am more in awe of the sopranos or the basses. haha

Lauda Sion

What happened to our music???????????????????????????????????????

Happy New Year

2009-01-03T22:36:00.002-05:00

The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective. Unless a man starts on the strange assumption that he has never existed before, it is quite certain that he will never exist afterwards. Unless a man be born again, he shall by no means enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.

-- G. K. Chesterton, "January One" from Lunacy and Letters

My Semester Wrapped up in a few minutes

2008-12-22T14:25:00.002-05:00

Enjoy, Peeps!

http://www.amuchoirs.org/Advent_Lessons_and_Carols.html

(at the beginning of "See the Conquering Hero Comes" there are 15 (out of 80 [well, maybe like 50, sine it is girl parts] and I am one... shameless bragging. lol)

Strange Happenings

2008-12-06T21:10:00.002-05:00

guy at work: *whistle* "Hey baby. Honey, why don't you look at me?"

me: "cuz I'm not a dog, so don't whistle at me"

guy behind me: "oh so I guess you're the type of girl who gets pissed when a guy opens the door for you"

Since when is opening a door like whistling? Since when does politeness (I don't even want to call it chilvalry since I don't really think that *most* men know what chilvalry actually is) equall "I'm holding this open cuz you're hot and I like to look as you walk by"? SERIOUSLY? Are you for real? I hold doors open for guys occasionally. Just cuz guess what, they're humans.

Since when is opening a door like whistling?

Schubert's Credo Mass in G

2008-11-12T12:03:00.002-05:00

I'm putting more what dynamzics we did (which are written), because the recording doesn't really follow them, though it's the 'best' one I could find.

Also, the dynamics only makes sense if you really beleive/understand the text. Which I think is pretty freakin' awesome. Otherwise, it's kind of odd. I think this piece is a peice of genius. And.. I <3 it. LOL

Also... forgive them, they not how to pronounce ecclesial Latin. lol.

Credo in unum deo - begins piano and intense like something important is about to happen it kind of should sound like the entire choir is trembling.

Patrem onmipotentem- creschendo begins crucial point is 'omnipotentem'

Factorem caeli et terra - now we are strong, confident but not quite Forte

Visibilium omnium- we became forte then - on 'omnium'. EVERYTHING

Et invisibilium - dramatic drop to piano because of the word "invisibilium"

IN UNUM DOMINUM- "stoic trumpets" we got louder than they did. I love it! What do we believe? IN UNUM DOMINUM

JESUM CHRISTUM

FILIUM DEI

UNI GENITUM

ET EX PATRE NATUM

ANTE OMNIA SAECULA -

DEum de DEo, culmination of the "trumpets" into full orchestra

LUmen de lUmine, piano, but intense almost in a trembling kind of way

DEum VErum de DEo VEro- LOUD again.

The next part, he layers and it's absouletly brilliant the women sing

Genitum non factum

and the men sing

consubstantialem Patri

so... "begotten, not made, one in being with the Father" -- it's BRILLIANT amazing. I love it. LOL something you can only do with the voice and in parts. Ah... amazing.

per quem omnia facta sunt - together again, then...

Qui propter nos homines, et propter nostram salutem descendit de caelis- dramatic piano, we got even quiter than they did. it becomes more lyrical than the "trumpet" part.

Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto I love the treble (female) voice on this part.

ex Maria Virgine: - we DRUMMED that...

Et homo factus est.

Crucifixus etiam pronobis- ok... this. TONUS DIABLOS! Yes! Augmented Fourth in two octaves. AHH! and he used it THERE! It's AMAZING!

sub Pontio Pilato - grows more intense

passus, et sepultus est - we got quiter here

Et resurrexit tertia die, secundum Scripturas- RESURREXIT!

Et ascendit in caelum: sedet ad dexteram Patris - lyrical trumpets, I think describe this

Et iterum venturus est cum gloria, judicare vivos et mortuos: FORTE - He is coming to judge!

cuius regni non erit finis.
FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINIS!

NEVER ENDS! BRILLIANT AGAIN!

Credo, Credo (funny storry, Dr. McD-- STOP STOP... I believe you eat, too, but don't sing it! It's CRedo CCRRRedo, not Credo edo )

in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum, et vivificantem- again, like at the beginning- expectant.

qui ex Patre Filioque procedit.

QUI CUM PATRE ET FILIO - more trumpets. :D I love how it's the Trinitarian stuff that gets it :)

SIMUL ADORATOR

QUI CUM PATRE ET FILIO

ET CONGLORIFACTUR

QUI LOCUTUS EST

PER PROPHETAS

Confiteor unum baptisma in remissionem peccatorum mortuorum. - we just believe that.

Et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen AMEN- Just... So it is. I believe it. Nothing horribly fancy. just Amen.

Swiping Cards... Random Reflections from a Bored and Slightly Disturbed Mind

2008-10-18T19:20:00.002-05:00

For those of you who do not know, I work in the cafeteria. I swipe cards, mostly, but I also sort silverware *heh hmm* flatware, sweep floors, mop floors, stack dishes, slop food onto plates, clean up after people, make sure everything is stocked, ect.

I probably am handed 400-500 cards a day. (Soooo many, I know... lol) I try not to think of about it too much, and usually, me being me, I succeed. Mostly, because I have more important things going on in my brain and just don't think about the cards.

Today, however, an incident occurred that make only be able to think about the cards. As one guy was getting a tray and "flatware" lol, he put his card in his mouth. Yes, his mouth. Then he took it from his mouth and handed it to me. I couldn't refuse the guys card. I *had* to take it. I am paid to take it. I will be fired if I don't. So, cringing on the inside, I carefully placed my fingers on the edge of his card, trying to miss the syliva spots and quickly swiped his card, and handed it back to him.

This disturbed me greatly. I was severely grossed out for the rest of the night. I was almost paranoid to take another card. Ew. Where have they been? What have they touched? Is this why I am getting sick? WHERE IS MY HAND SANITIZER WHEN I NEED IT????!!!???!!!???!!

It was bad. For the rest of the night, all I could think was "That was so gross, that was so gross" and I thought of all the possible places the cards have been. Of the germs they have collected. How much disease on college campuses is spread in the cafeteria? Just by swiping a card?

*Le sigh.

Lesson learned: always bring hand sanitizer to work. You never know who eats his card.

shamelessness

2008-09-20T20:20:00.002-05:00

http://www.redbubble.com/people/CatherineE

There's a link on the side.

Philosphy, music, and a camera... what more does one need?

Not a Video

2008-09-16T18:40:00.001-05:00

I know... I went a little crazy with that.

Anywho... eventually there will be a post with actual text (other than this one telling that there will be.) I've been working on something off an on for a while but haven't got it together yet. But I will... I just don't know when. haha.

Oh.. JibJab

2008-09-10T17:34:00.001-05:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Rock on Fathers!

2008-09-07T23:00:00.002-05:00

OOOooh yeah.

2008-08-30T09:49:00.002-05:00

This particular piece - for a while- there was only one copy of the manuscript. It was locked away in the Vatican while it wasn't in use (duing Holy Week- and to practice, of course). Anyway, the only people allowed to perform it for years and years were the ones in Vatican choir and anyone else who did was punished with excommunication. I suppose this seems harsh. But the point was to keep it alive and mysterious, as something completely unearthly and not an overplayed pop song. I don't *think* anyone tried to reproduce it, so I don't think the punishment was ever actually needed.

And then one year, a family from Austria came to Rome for Easter. One of the members was a fourteen year old kid named Wolfgang. He listened to it twice and transcribed it (completely accurately) from memory. The Pope was so surprised and impressed that he dropped the punishment of excommunication.

So.. thanks to Mozart, it is now on YouTube...

(not all of the Psalm)
As a deer longs for flowing streams,
so my soul longs for you, O God.
2My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and behold
the face of God?
3My tears have been my food
day and night,
while people say to me continually,
‘Where is your God?’

4These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul:
how I went with the throng,
and led them in procession to the house of God,
with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving,
a multitude keeping festival.
5Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my help 6and my God.

My soul is cast down within me;
therefore I remember you
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
from Mount Mizar.
7Deep calls to deep
at the thunder of your cataracts;
all your waves and your billows
have gone over me.
8By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
and at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.

9I say to God, my rock,
‘Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I walk about mournfully
because the enemy oppresses me?’
10As with a deadly wound in my body,
my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me continually,
‘Where is your God?’

11Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my help and my God.

May She Rest In Peace

2008-06-28T22:27:00.001-05:00

Catharine Bluhm
September 27 1940 - June 28 2002

I love you, Grandmom.

Randomnity-

2008-06-21T19:18:00.002-05:00

I feel much more like myself than I have all year. This is an incredibly random post.

So one day, I was talking to God and I was like, "Hey, why couldn't you have given us an off switch on our brains?" (It had been a bad day and I was thinking about things that were confusing and hard) Anywho, He said "Well, Catherine, you know... the way that you find me is through those thoughts. If I gave you an off switch and you could turn them off, you would be less likely to find me. You'd be able to turn me off." And I said, "oh, well... that makes sense" and He said "Did you expect me to do something that didn't make sense?" and I siad "well, no. I just don't expect to be able to make sense about what makes sense to you." and He said "Well... don't get used to it."

But... I still sometimes wish I could have one. Although, I suppose that it would just provoke the whole "run" thing that I have going.

So tonight and last night, since my mother and father are not here, I have been the one expected to take of meals. I LOVE IT! Like, seriously, not just meals, but since RC works like my dad and is hardly ever home anymore but is home this week, Christina has been... well... a little preoccupied. Plus today, they had to go to Montgomery to talk with Father and do all that stuff. SO... I have had to you know, do everything. Keep the brothers happy; make sure they don't do something dangerous, make sure they don't kill each other, keep them busy because otherwise they get sad because they miss Dad and now mom, too and mom gets to see Dad but they can't, feed them and make sure they eat well, and make sure they do their chores and all that kind of stuff. Part of it I don't like. The part that has to say "no you can't do that" or "no you cannot eat chocolate for lunch" (because seriously, who [unless you are like me and don't actually like chocolate] doesn't want that for lunch - especially when you are five and miss your parents). But... there's nothing better than to hear than "Thank you! You made it for me??! I've been wanting to eat that for like, a month!" (Now, I have no idea if the time frame is accurate, but that's completely irrelevant.) I mean, the gratitude of a hungry eleven year old boy when you fix his favorite food... you really can't get much more gratitude than that. (Not that I do it for the gratitude, I do it cuz well... let's be honest... I have to but also a little because it's fun to see them so happy. But I don't know, there's something about planning well balanced meals and making sure that they eat well balanced meals (whether it is... you know, exactly what you had in mind or not) and such that makes me not be able to wait until maybe one day I have a family of my own to do that for. My favorite book:
Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House . Eh, I'm a weirdo. But I can cook and clean! And my boys love me! And really who cares about anything else.

Pringles has this flavor of chip called Baked potatoe. I am not sure what I think of this. it really does taste like a baked potato. It an odd sensation for one's taste buds. Kind of like cheeseburger pizza (have you ever had that? strange strange stuff, it is). It makes me wonder what is in them. I mean, they are good. But are they toxic? Cuz, seriously, how can they not be?

OH! OH! So... which one's worse: Being 18 (last January) and getting bifocals OR being 19 and correcting most vision problems with contacts BUT having to buy the (lowest strength) generic type of reading glasses? BIFOCALS. They are awful. Yeah, I can see. But my world is split in half! NOW... I can watch a movie! LOL. It was difficult with bifocals, but, I am so freakin' near sighted that I can't see the screen if I take my glasses off. Now... I am free!! I never ever thought I'd wear the things that you have to poke into your eye. But they are great. I wish I'd had them sooner. It's still a little strange taking them out. Putting them I'm ok. But taking them out kinda creeps me out. BUT I CANN SEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My sister (who is even more nearsighted than I - though she doesn't have focusing problems like I do yet)has a theory. Monet- great impressionist? No- just a blind dude painting what he saw. LOL.

Um... I think I should I go... I hear my boys singing the song about the ten in the bed and the little one said "roll over"... I should probably go SEND THEM TO SLEEP!

Psalm 121

2008-06-04T22:44:00.003-05:00

Some soul comfort

Psalm 121
1I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

2My help cometh even from the LORD, who hath made heaven and earth.

3He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: and he that keepeth thee will not sleep.

4Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

5The LORD Himself is thy keeper: the LORD is thy defense upon thy right hand.

6So that the sun shall not burn thee by day, neither the moon by night.

7The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: yea it is even He that shall keep thy soul.

8The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth for evermore.

In Defense of the Sacred (at a Catholic School)

2008-05-05T21:26:00.002-05:00

(How to not write a philosphy paper on love and the personalistic norm day 8 because you suck at it [the norm, that is])

The choir has officially been told that it is no longer allowed to sing sacred music. If this is the case, I'm almost certain that will be no real choir to speak of next semester. I know of two people who will not sing and could bank on a third. And of course, they are most musically trained persons we have in the choir. If one of them leaves, then I can almost say with certainty that another person would leave, depleting the choir of an entire voice section. (subtlety, eh?).

For a Catholic school, this seems really dumb. I don't know the reasoning behind it and I'm not even going to try and guess. But really? Banned from singing Sacred Music? Stuck singing "keep your Lamps" and "Didn't me Lord Deliver Daniel"? Please God, no. Is that supposed to be a compromise?

I noticed that on the website, the mission statement (I hate those things) for the choir has been changed. :( Sad.

This is a Catholic college. Our Catholic idenity should not be something that is banned. And Catholic music is not just a treasure of the Church, it's a treasure of the world. Without Palestrina's compositions, there would have been no polyphony. No Bach Cantatas. No Moazart Requiem. Our job not only as Catholics, but as musicians too, is to keep this music alive and to introduce it to and share it with others. But ESPECIALLY as Catholic musicians, our job is to perpetuate this music in the Church.

A genera of music cannot be forced on a group of singers. If they hate the music, they really will not care to make it beautiful. It will be sufficient. But it won't be beautiful. Sacred music is actually easier to learn for inexperienced singers than gospel spirituals. It's all about the math. Spirituals are highly syncopated with weird rhythms. Old polophony is 100 times simpler because the composers were after mathematical granduer in their compositions. They are complex and challenging, but they are simpler than weird rhythms.

Secular choirs sing sacred music ALL THE TIME!

Why can't we?

hehehe

2008-05-04T21:41:00.003-05:00

Something I Wrote a While Ago and had a Discussion About Today

2008-04-29T13:27:00.006-05:00

Disclaimer:
1.- This was my first "real" paper that I ever wrote. I never had to write anything in highschool (shh), so be merciful please!
2.- I don't think that all rock music nessecarily harms the soul. Yes, there are Christian rock groups that bring many people closer (or even just) to Christ. BUT this is taking the original intent of rock music out of it. It's adding stuff to it that wasn't there. I don't really think anyone can argue that the point of rock music was to train the soul to leash its passions; in fact, I think you have to argue the quite the opposite is true: its original intent was to convince people that they needed to unleash those passions. Putting a Christian message to rock music does- as the person I was talking to (I think) said, though talking about something else- take those passions and show that they need to be ordered and that they are there. But that was not the original intent of rock music and I don't really know if it's 100% true rock at that point.
3.-Even though it was a kind of debate format, I'm really not interested in a debate. I'll read something from the other side, but I'm not putting this out here to start a debate, because I seriously doubt that I could handle that. I've got way too much other stuff to deal with right now.
Like class work which I should be doing doing right now.

I noticed the other day whileI was reading Orthodoxy that I write a lot like Chesterton (and by that, I only mean that I use a lot of parentheticals...) :P

That said, enjoy. Here ya go.

In the chapter of The Closing of the American Mind entitled “Music,” Allan Bloom describes the relationship between music (especially rock music) and the human soul. Bloom suggests that music is what cultivates the soul and either allows it to grow or hampers its growth. Music and the lyrics that accompany it affect a person more than just temporarily and outwardly; its affects can be lasting and deeply imprinted on a soul. Rock music does not allow the soul to grow like it is supposed to; rock music ‘stunts’ the soul’s growth or deforms it.

Music is more than just sound that makes a person feel better; “[m]usic is the medium of the human soul” (Bloom 71). When Thomas Jefferson could not come up with the right words for parts of the Declaration of Independence, he played his violin and was able to express his thoughts (O’Donnell, musicpower.com). Music even affects non-humans. Plants have been shown to respond to music. The same types of seeds were grown in identical environments but in one, classical music was played and in the other, rock music was played. The plants that were exposed to classical music grew and flourished but the ones exposed to rock music withered and died. This reaction can be compared to what happens when a person constantly listens to rock music.

Music does not need lyrics to make an impression upon a person. The rhythm of the music is enough for the meaning to be conveyed. The lyrics of songs are influenced by the beat and rhythm of the music. “Even when articulate speech is added, it is utterly subordinate to and determined by the music and passions it expresses” (Bloom 71). If someone hears a sad song, he can tell it is a sad song without having heard the lyrics.

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, a Roman statesman in the fifth century said “Music is so naturally united with us that we cannot be free from it even if we so desired.” This statement is especially true today but with an entirely new significance. Anywhere at anytime music is accessible: in houses, in cars, airplanes, and on the street (Bloom 68). One can access any music that he wants to hear from a computer and even a mobile telephone. This is why Allan Bloom says: “[t]his is the age of music and the states of soul that accompany it” (68).

Since music is linked so closely to the soul, it is one of the things that most affect a person’s education. Education is defined as “the act or process of imparting or acquiring general knowledge, developing the powers of reasoning and judgment, and generally of preparing oneself or others intellectually for mature life” (dictionary.com). Bloom says: “Civilization or, to say the same thing, education is the taming or domestication of the soul’s raw passions- not suppressing or excising them, which would deprive the soul of its energy- but forming and informing them as an art” (71). No other music has formed the souls of so many young people as rock music has. Children naturally imitate what they are told is good. If children listen to rock music, it is only natural that they would imitate what the lyrics praise as good: sex, drugs, rebellion, selfishness, and violence. One would not give an elementary school child a college level test. Why would anyone present to children something that they are not mature enough to understand? Rock music does exactly that:

It acknowledges the first emanations of children’s emerging
sensuality and addresses them seriously, eliciting them and
legitimating them, not as little sprouts that must be carefully
tended in order to grow into gorgeous flowers, but as the real
thing. Rock gives children, on a silver platter, with all the
public authority of the entertainment industry, everything
that their parents always used to tell them they had to wait
for until they grew up and would understand later. (Bloom 73)

Just as a baby will get sick if it is fed solid food too soon, the soul will be perverted if it is fed the “solid food” that rock music is. A ten year old is not mature enough to constantly listen to songs like Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps” or Green Day’s “86” without being affected by the messages of sex and violence. “This is the significance of rock music….it has risen to its current heights in the education of the young on the ashes of classical music, and in an atmosphere in which there is no intellectual resistance to attempts to tap the rawest passions” (Bloom 73). Lots of young people think that what was considered moral and right fifty years ago (no pre-marital sex, non-violence, man and woman marriages) is now old just fashioned and backward because no one has taught them otherwise.

Bloom says “The first sensuous experiences are decisive in determining the taste for the whole of life” (79). Rock music deprives the young of naturally discovering the world and all its beauty. It shows it to them in an almost mutilated fashion and tells them that it is the best, most beautiful, and most fulfilling thing before they are ready to know completely. If an athlete is not physically ready for an activity and tries to accomplish it too early, his energy is going to be spent and he could possibly hurt himself. The same thing happens to the soul. If a person is too premature for something and is exposed to or experiences it anyway, his energy will be spent and he will very possibly be emotionally hurt, sometimes without ever knowing that he is hurt or at least not knowing why he is hurting. Because it exposes the soul too early to things that should withheld from it, rock exhausts the energy of young people and does not allow the soul to grow; rock corrupts the soul. (80)

The mass perversion of a society by music can be seen even more clearly today than when Allan Bloom wrote The Closing of the American Mind. The generation that Bloom talks about are now adults. Bloom said that “the Michael Jackson costume will slip off to reveal a Brooks Brothers suit beneath.…But this life is as empty and as false as the one they left behind,” (Bloom 81). This is evident in the increase of divorces, sexual chaos, and general decline of society since rock music became the music of the people, especially young people.

Children are now being indoctrinated by rock music instead of being educated by parents and teachers and now they do not know how to think. Rock singers tell children and teenagers things about the world that aren’t necessarily true or they portray one way of looking at something as the only way to look at it and teenagers and children accept this without ever even questioning why they should believe such ideas are true. Young people no longer want to search to find the right answers; they have the answers handed to them through their music.

Plato argues that if you listen to decent music, then your soul will train your body to do decent things. It would seem that the opposite is also true. If you only listen to music that is not decent, then your soul will not, indeed, cannot train your body to do decent things. Most rock music does not exemplify decent things. It is no surprise, then that younger people, who are almost constantly immersed in rock music (and other genres like it) do not know decent things. Rock music does not supply the soul with the means to know decency; it denies decency and things that are good and replaces them with sex, drugs, and violence. Children need to be taught by someone who can explain without harming, express without violence, and love without selfishness. Rock music is not this teacher.

Brothers

2008-04-20T12:15:00.002-05:00

:D.

About a Pervert, A Judicial System, and Whoever wrote this

2008-04-19T21:16:00.004-05:00

THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Friday, April 18th 2008, 8:55 AM
A wedding disc jockey has been accused of sharing an instructional video showing how to sexually abuse children.
The case was referred to the Queens district attorney's office by police in Wheaton, Ill., who said they found two child porn videos in an Internet file-sharing program
the DJ was using in February. One video shows a 4-year-old girl performing a
sex act on a man; the other gives advice and examples on how to sexually
abuse minors, authorities said.
Dominick Guerra, 29, of Ozone Park, Queens, is charged in a criminal complaint with possessing and promoting child pornography. He was arraigned Thursday and held on $100,000 bail, according to the district attorney's office.
The DJ would face up to seven years in prison if convicted.
The name of Guerra's attorney could not immediately be determined.
The criminal complaint says the defendant admitted in a written
statement that he downloaded and viewed numerous child pornography videos from
the Limewire online file-sharing program.
"The charges are very disturbing," Queens District Attorney Richard
A. Brown said in a statement. "There is a national connection to this
case which frighteningly shows the far reach of the Internet in dispensing
child pornography," said Brown. "It is imperative that we vigorously
prosecute this case so that our children remain safe from predators who
share information to carry out their depraved acts."

Aside from the overall digustingness of reading this, there are two things that really stick out in this article. Number one: "One video shows a 4-year-old girl performing a sex act on a man; the other gives advice and examples on how to sexually abuse minors, authorities said. " She's four! How incredibly sad. She's four and no longer a child. She's four and never will be able to have a normal childhood. She's four and will spend the rest of her life plagued by that. She didn't "perform" anything. The way that's written makes it sound like her fault. It's no where near that. Perhaps, technically that's true but she didn't perform anything, she was forced to do something. She was forced to do that by some sick creep.

Number two: " The DJ would face up to seven years in prison if convicted.". WHAT? Seven years? That's it? UP to seven years? How is that even possible? However it's possible, it's certainly not right. At least one little girl has to live with what this man did for the rest of her life and he gets "up to seven years" in jail? It makes absolutely no sense. This is pretty heinous thing. It's probably not going stop him from doing similar things when he gets out. The average lifespan is 77 or something, he's 29, - He'll be 36 which gives him about 40 years. But thinking about it is mind boggling. His victims will live with the consequences for the rest of their lives. If, 35 years from now, he's sixty-five and molests some kid who's 4, then that kid lives to be 80 so, that's over a hundred years that the effects of his actions linger immediately. Not even those affected by those affected by his actions. I mean, he made an "instructional video" for crying out loud! There are oing to be hundreds of people affected by that. (Statistacally speaking an average serial molester's victim count is about 360-surveys conducted in jails, so take it with a grain of salt. but still... there are a lot of us-, so I'm not exaggerating). And he gets seven years in jail? Something seems very wrong there.

Something is very screwed up when, in the same state, a man can go to jail for up to five years for animal cruelty and for up to seven for screwing up (though I'd like to use stronger language) multiple people's lives.

Library Chronicles??????

2008-04-14T10:16:00.002-05:00

Just a reminder of the fact that time changes things by much. It's 11:18 am and I'm in the library. But that's about the only thing that remains the same or anywhere near the same as last year.

Some changes are good, I gues. Most I don't like. lol. The people around whom this blog centered when it started are pretty much gone from my life... or at least in it in very different ways. Now it centers around me. Go figure. At least it used to be me doing random things to entertain some of them.

The library itself is different. I actually work. lol. (Today, Mrs. Exley isn't here and the weekend staff finished everything up, so I've got nothing to do.) I don't feel like I'm going to explode in here anymore. Although, Dan could never get away with bringing his guitar in here anymore. I could never just kind of lounge around on the desk. Jill would never be able to watch prison break. Nick, Brian, and Kevin could never get away with the things they did. What were they... chair races, locking us in and refusing to leave at closing (and since they can pretty much throw us around, we couldn't do anything about it.. hmph.) The AC temps. haha. And I will never forget the period lecture Laura gave them. LOL That was the best thing ever (and totally planned, btw...). I hope they never forget it, either. It would do them well to remember that stuff. hehe.

But now, I have nothing to write about in the library except memories.

Everyday at about 9:30 Joe comes in and asks for the philosophy of the day. That's about it. It's sometimes entertaining. Mostly not.

I'm all dramatic now... lol.

No, really, I can't take these thoughts. They are way too much for me.

Another Collection of Funny Things that come from the Mouths of Babes

2008-04-01T11:34:00.000-05:00

"In half a year, I will be six, and I will be old enough to be married; and if I'm going to get married, I'm going to need to know how to make a grilled cheese sandwhich."

"I don't know why they call them buffalo wings. Buffalo don't have wings! They just have thighs things."

Dom: - Who IS the Easter bunny, really?
Dan:- I am.
Dom: You mean that every year you turn into a rabbit?"
Dan: - No, I mean I hide the eggs and SAY it was the Easter Bunny.
Dom:- You mean, all these years, you've been PRETENDING????
Dan: - No just this joke. I'm not the Easter bunny.

At a rest stop in Louisanna, Dominic was the only one awake, until he woke everyone else up by his jabbering. Something about us being in Louisanna and so Arkansas was next. He was just jabbering away like there was someone there. Maybe it was the people in his brain.

Cat, CAT, don't breathe in Mississippi. It SMELLS.

"I see the Man in the Moon
"It's Jesus!"
"No, Dom, Jesus is not the man in the moon."
"But it says that Jesus rose from the dead and went to heaven and that's where the moon is"

Oh, there were more, but I waited too long and forgot them. lol.

"Behold, I Tell You a Mystery"

2008-03-25T20:57:00.002-05:00

Having just celebrated Easter, it's slightly odd that today is the day of the Annunciation, the day that we celebrate the actual incarnation. Without this day, there would have been no great joyous Easter. Without this day, we'd still be wallowing in sin. Without this day, there would be no hope.

But there is hope- hope of an amazing sort; a kind of hope that no words can contain (for yes, words contain and there is no way to contain something this great, this amazing, this mind boggling in them). There is a hymn that is sung during in Christmas and in it, it says "marvel now, O Heaven and Earth, That our Lord chose such a birth". Marvel indeed. The Divine humbles Himself to come to us in our form- as a human- so that we may come to know, love, and serve God in this life and be with Him in the next. He gave Himself a name, a name that allows us to contain as much of Him as humanly possible; He gave Himself a face, a face that looks upon us with tenderness, mercy and love and that we can look upon with adoration; He made Himself tangible to us. He became helpless that we might have Hope.

Jesus, a tiny baby in a manger, on straw and wrapped in swaddling clothes. It conjures up images of cuteness and warm fuzzies and wise men adoring, angels singing, little lambs lying beside Him. But that baby was not like other babies. That baby was not given to His parents in the same way that other babies are. That baby freely chose to become a baby. That baby caused the world to be. That baby knew that His life would end in pain and misery. He did it anyway. He did it for us. And He knew that some of us would reject His sacrifice, His love, His mercy. But He came anyway. He could have chosen not to. And yet, He did. He came to earth, more helpless than an animal.

This mystery, the mystery of the Incarnation, is the center of our faith. By making Himself man, He chose to feel the pain, the lonliness, the despair of life. He chose to feel it, so that we would not have to feel that without the hope of something more. He died a miserable death, one more painful than anything that we could imagine. He cried out to God "why have you abandoned me?" He knows all that we feel. He knows rejection and despair, and He knows it more than any of us could. Chesterton wrote "And now let the revolutionists choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world, carefully weighing all the gods of inevitable recurrence and unalterable power. They will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. Nay (the matter grows too difficult for human speech), but let the atheists themselves choose a god. They will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which God seemed for an instant to be an atheist".

But He also smiled. He knew friendship and He knew love. He knew laughter. He knew joy, He knew it more than we can. And this joy is the hope of the Christian. It is this joy that cannot be contained or explained.

Negativity is something at which I excell. But it is the perversion of joy. It is the chosing not to see that joy. In that same book (Orthodoxy), Chesterton wrote (and it is a long quote, but why reinvent the wheel? [emphasis mine])
"The mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. Nevertheless (I offer my last dogma defiantly) it is not native to man to be so. Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live. Yet, according to the apparent estate of man as seen by the pagan or the agnostic, this primary need of human nature can never be fulfilled. Joy ought to be expansive; but for the agnostic it must be contracted, it must cling to one comer of the world. Grief ought to be a concentration; but for the agnostic its desolation is spread through an unthinkable eternity. This is what I call being born upside down. The sceptic may truly be said to be topsy-turvy; for his feet are dancing upwards in idle ecstacies, while his brain is in the abyss. To the modern man the heavens are actually below the earth. The explanation is simple; he is standing on his head; which is a very weak pedestal to stand on. But when he has found his feet again he knows it. Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man’s ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world. Rather the silence around us is a small and pitiful stillness like the prompt stillness in a sick-room. We are perhaps permitted tragedy as a sort of merciful comedy: because the frantic energy of divine things would knock us down like a drunken farce. We can take our own tears more lightly than we could take the tremendous levities of the angels. So we sit perhaps in a starry chamber of silence, while the laughter of the heavens is too loud for us to hear.
Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian. And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.

And a share in that Mirth, that joy is given to us through the Mystery of the Incarnation which leads to the Paschal Mystery.

At the Name of Jesus, every knee shall bow,Every tongue confess Him King of glory now;’Tis the Father’s pleasure we should call Him Lord,Who from the beginning was the mighty Word.

Mighty and mysterious in the highest height,God from everlasting, very light of light:In the Father’s bosom with the spirit blest,Love, in love eternal, rest, in perfect rest.

At His voice creation sprang at once to sight,All the angel faces, all the hosts of light,Thrones and dominations, stars upon their way,All the heavenly orders, in their great array.

Humbled for a season, to receive a nameFrom the lips of sinners unto whom He came,Faithfully He bore it, spotless to the last,Brought it back victorious when from death He passed.

Bore it up triumphant with its human light,Through all ranks of creatures, to the central height,To the throne of Godhead, to the Father’s breast; Filled it with the glory of that perfect rest.

Name Him, brothers, name Him, with love strong as death But with awe and wonder, and with bated breath!He is God the Savior, He is Christ the Lord,Ever to be worshipped, trusted and adored.

In your hearts enthrone Him; there let Him subdue All that is not holy, all that is not true;Crown Him as your Captain in temptation’s hour;Let His will enfold you in its light and power.

Brothers, this Lord Jesus shall return again,With His Father’s glory, with His angel train;For all wreaths of empire meet upon His brow, And our hearts confess Him King of glory now.

Holy Week Hymnody

2008-03-21T16:33:00.003-05:00

Music has been special to Catholics since the beginning of Catholicism. We often read of the early Christians gathering to celebrate the Eucharist and sing hymns. The Triduum has its own special hymns, full of beauty and symbolism. (Plus, I already posted my Holy Saturday thing.) I'll give translations if they aren't in English...

Great for meditations without the music.

Holy Thursday:
The two that are specially set aside for this day (though, sadly they aren't always used and some people even go their whole life without knowing them at all) are "Ubi Caritas" and "Pange Lingua". Ubi Caritas is sung at the washing of the feet.

Ubi caritas et amor,
Deus ibi est.
Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor.
Exultemus, et in ipso iucundemur.
Temeamus, et amemus Deum vivum.
Et ex corde diligamus nos sincero.

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur:
Ne nos mente dividamur caveamus.
Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites.
Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus.

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.
Simul quoque cum beatis videamus,
Glorianter vultum tuum, Christe Deus.
Gaudium quod est immensum, atque probum:
Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.

And the English Translation:

Where charity and love are, there God is.
The love of Christ has gathered us into one flock.
Let us exult, and in Him be joyful.
Let us fear and let us love the living God.
And from a sincere heart let us love each other (and Him).
Where charity and love are, there God is.
Therefore, whensoever we are gathered as one:
Lest we in mind be divided, let us beware.
Let cease malicious quarrels, let strife give way.
And in the midst of us be Christ our God.
Where charity and love are, there God is.
Together also with the blessed may we see,Gloriously,
Thy countenance, O Christ our God:
A joy which is immense, and also approved:
Through infinite ages of ages.Amen.

The Pange Lingua was, I think, written by Thomas Aquinas. It's simply beautiful poetry. A preist named Gerard Manley Hopkins translated them (Aquinas' poems/hymns) spectacularly into English. This is sung as the consecrated Hosts are taken to the Altar of Repose.

1. Pange lingua gloriosi
Corporis mysterium,
Sanguinisque pretiosi,
Quem in mundi pretium
Fructus ventris generosi,
Rex effudit gentium.

2. Nobis datus, nobis natus
Ex intacta Virgine
Et in mundo conversatus,
Sparso verbi semine,
Sui moras incolatus
Miro clausit ordine.

3. In supremae nocte coenae
Recumbens cum fratribus,
Observata lege plene
Cibis in legalibus,
Cibum turbae duodenae
Se dat suis manibus

4. Verbum caro, panem verum
Verbo carnem efficit:
Fitque sanguis Christi merum,
Et si sensus deficit,
Ad firmandum cor sincerum
Sola fides sufficit.

5. Tantum ergo Sacramentum
Veneremur cernui:
Et antiquum documentum
Novo cedat ritui:
Praestet fides supplementum
Sensuum defectui.

6. Genitori, Genitoque
Laus et iubilatio,
Salus, honor, virtus quoque
Sit et benedictio:
Procedenti ab utroque
Compar sit laudatio.
Amen.

And in English:

Of the glorious Body telling,
O my tongue, its mysteries sing,
And the Blood, all price excelling,
Which the world's eternal King,
In a noble womb once dwelling
Shed for the world's ransoming.

Given for us, descending,
Of a Virgin to proceed,
Man with man in converse blending,
Scattered he the Gospel seed,
Till his sojourn drew to ending,
Which he closed in wondrous deed.

At the last great Supper lying
Circled by his brethren's band,
Meekly with the law complying,
First he finished its command
Then, immortal Food supplying,
Gave himself with his own hand.

Word made Flesh, by word he maketh
Very bread his Flesh to be;
Man in wine Christ's Blood partaketh:
And if senses fail to see,
Faith alone the true heart waketh
To behold the mystery.

Therefore we, before him bending,
This great Sacrament revere;
Types and shadows have their ending,
For the newer rite is here;
Faith, our outward sense befriending,
Makes the inward vision clear.

Glory let us give, and blessing
To the Father and the Son;
Honour, might, and praise addressing,
While eternal ages run;
Ever too his love confessing,
Who, from both, with both is one. Amen.

And also, this one is simply beautiful poetry that kind of belongs here, as well.

1. Godhead here in hiding, whom I do adore,
Masked by these bare shadows,
shape and nothing more,
See, Lord, at thy service low lies here a heart
Lost, all lost in wonder at the God thou art.

2. Seeing, touching, tasting are in thee deceived:
How says trusty hearing? that shall be believed;
What God's Son has told me, take for truth I do;
Truth himself speaks truly or there's nothing true

.3. On the cross thy godhead made no sign to men,
Here thy very manhood steals from human ken:
Both are my confession, both are my belief,
And I pray the prayer of the dying thief.

4. I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But can plainly call thee Lord and God as he;
Let me to a deeper faith daily nearer move,
Daily make me harder hope and dearer love.

5. O thou our reminder of Christ crucified,
Living Bread, the life of us for whom he died,
Lend this life to me then: feed and feast my mind,
There be thou the sweetness man was meant to find.

6. Bring the tender tale true of the Pelican;
Bathe me, Jesu Lord, in what thy bosom ran---
Blood whereof a single drop has power to win
All the world forgiveness of its world of sin.

7. Jesu, whom I look at shrouded here below,
I beseech thee send me what I thirst for so,
Some day to gaze on thee face to face in light
And be blest for ever with thy glory's sight. Amen.

With the melody, it's quite haunting. Amazing.

GOOD FRIDAY:

Stabat mater delorosa

1. Stabat Mater dolorosa
Iuxta crucem lacrimosa
Dum pendebat Filius

2. Cuius animam gementem
Contristatam et dolentem
Pertransivit gladius

3. O quam tristis et afflicta
Fuit illa benedicta
Mater unigeniti!

4. Quae moerebat et dolebat,
Pia Mater, dum videbat
Nati poenas incliti

5. Quis est homo qui non fleret,
Matrem Christi si videret
In tanto supplicio?

6. Quis non posset contristari,
Christi Matrem contemplari
Dolentem cum Filio?

7. Pro peccatis suae gentis
Vidit Iesum in tormentis,
Et flagellis subditum.

8. Vidit suum dulcem natum
Moriendo desolatum
Dum emisit spiritum

9. Eia Mater, fons amoris
Me sentire vim
, ut tecum lugeam1

0. Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
In amando Christum Deum
Ut sibi complaceam

11. Sancta Mater, istud agas,
Crucifixi fige plagas
Cordi meo valide.

12. Tui nati vulnerati,
Tam dignati pro me pati,
Poenas mecum divide.

13. Fac me tecum, pie, flere,
Crucifixo condolere,Donec ego vixero.

14. Iuxta crucem tecum stare,
Et me tibi sociare
In planctu desidero

15. Virgo virginum praeclara,
Mihi iam non sis amara
Fac me tecum plangere

16. Fac, ut portem Christi mortem
Passionis fac consortem,
Et plagas recolere.

17. Fac me plagis vulnerari,
Fac me cruce inebriari,
Et cruore Filii

18. Flammis ne urar succensus
Per Te, Virgo, sim defensus
In die iudicii

19. Christe, cum sit hinc exire,
Da per Matrem me venire
Ad palmam victoriae

20. Quando corpus morietur,
Fac, ut animae donetur
Paradisi gloria. Amen

And I chose the literal over the poetical translation:

1. The grieving Mother stood weeping beside the cross where her Son was hanging

2. Through her weeping soul, compassionate and grieving, a sword passed.

3. O how sad and afflicted was that blessed Mother of the Only-begotten!

4. Who mourned and grieved, the pious Mother, looking at the torment of her glorious Child

5. Who is the person who would not weep seeing the Mother of Christ in such agony?

6. Who would not be able to feel compassion on beholding Christ's Mother suffering with her Son?

7. For the sins of his people she saw Jesus in torment and subjected to the scourge.

8. She saw her sweet offspring dying, forsaken, while He gave up his spirit

9. O Mother, fountain of love, make me feel the power of sorrow, that I may grieve with you

10. Grant that my heart may burn in the love of Christ my Lord, that I may greatly please Him

11. Holy Mother, grant that the wounds of the Crucified drive deep into my heart.

12. That of your wounded Son, who so deigned to suffer for me, I may share the pain

13. Let me sincerely weep with you, bemoan the Crucified, for as long as I live

14. To stand beside the cross with you, and to join you in your weeping, this I desire

15. Chosen Virgin of virgins, be not bitter with me, let me weep with thee

16. Grant that I may bear the death of Christ, share his Passion, and commemorate His wounds

17. Let me be wounded with his wounds, let me be inebriated by the cross and your Son's blood

18. Lest I be set afire by flames of death, Virgin, may I be defended by you, on the day of judgement

19. Christ, when it is time to pass away, grant that through your Mother I may come to the palm of victory

Sing My Tongue the Glorious Battle:

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle,
sing the last, the dread affray;
o'er the cross, the victor's trophy,
sound the high triumphal lay,
how, the pains of death enduring,
earth's Redeemer won the day.

When at length the appointed fulness
of the sacred time was come,
he was sent, the world's Creator,
from the Father's heavenly home,
and was found in human fashion,
offspring of the virgin's womb.

Now the thirty years are ended
which on earth he willed to see,
willingly he meets his passion,
born to set his people free;
on the cross the Lamb is lifted,
there the sacrifice to be.

There the nails and spear He suffers,
vinegar and gall and reed;
from His sacred body piercèd
blood and water both proceed:
precious flood, which all creation
from the stain of sin hath freed.

Faithful Cross, above all other,
one and only noble Tree,
none in foliage, none in blossom,
none in fruit thy peer may be;
sweet the wood, and sweet the iron,
and thy load, most sweet is he.

Bend, O lofty Tree, thy branches,
thy too rigid sinews bend;
and awhile the stubborn hardness,
which thy birth bestowed, suspend;
and the limbs of heaven's high Monarch
gently on thine arms extend.

Thou alone wast counted worthy
this world's Ransom to sustain,
that a shipwrecked race for ever
might a port of refuge gain,
with the sacred Blood anointed
of the Lamb for sinners slain.

O Sacred Head Surrounded (the original one by Bernard of Clairvoux)

O sacred Head, now wounded,
with grief and shame weighed down,
now scornfully surrounded
with thorns, thine only crown:
how pale thou art with anguish,
with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish
which once was bright as morn!

2. What thou, my Lord, has suffered
was all for sinners' gain;
mine, mine was the transgression,
but thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
'Tis I deserve thy place;
look on me with thy favor,
vouchsafe to me thy grace.

3. What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
O make me thine forever;
and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love for thee.

Ave Verum Corpus:

Ave, verum corpus
natum de Maria Virgine,
Vere passum immolatumin
Cruce pro homine,
Cujus latus perforatum
unda fluxit et sanguine,
Esto nobis praegustatum
in mortis examine
in mortis examine.

Hail,true body
born of the Virgin Mary,
Who truly suffered, sacrificed
on the Cross for man,
Whose pierced side overflowed
with water and blood,
Be for us a foretaste
In the test of death.

EASTER VIGIL:

The EXULTET! (my favorite). I'm posting something that I found on a site that had the text on it. Granted, it was a site for cantors...

"In the history of music for Mass, no song was more important, no chant more beautifully crafted, no moment so significant as the exultet on the Easter Vigil. Today we may execute it in different ways, but the exultet remains one of the trickiest moments of the entire Paschal Triduum. ... The text is too important, the event too special. The exultet deserves to be sung, and sung well.A proclamation of joy and salvation
The exultet has roots in the first centuries of Christianity. In form, it is a "thanksgiving," a cousin to the eucharistic prayer. It recalls the greatness of God, includes a dialogue with the assembly like the introduction to a preface, and concludes with an offering--an offering of the candle to God.
The text expresses the meaning of Easter. It invites heaven, earth, and the church to rejoice ("exultet") in this feast. It recalls Israel's exodus, then it proclaims a new "exodus". New Christians cross through water from slavery to freedom, and all the church shares in the rising of Christ. Easter is the most blessed of nights, the night of Passover, baptism, resurrection, and redemption. In joy we offer God our Easter candle, a pillar of fire, mingling with the lights of heaven, a candle which will meet Christ, the Morning Star, whose resurrection forever dispels darkness.
The exultet is a whopper of a proclamation, and the early church wrapped it in a cloak of melodious chant" Ok, so,it may be a bit funky, but.. they're musicians... they're bound to be a little cooky... BUT they have a point.

The exultet is amazing, and more amazing when it is sung. I'm only going to put the English, because the Latin and the English are long. lol

Rejoice, heavenly powers!
Sing, choirs of angels!
Exult, all creation around
God's throne!Jesus Christ, our King, is risen!
Sound the trumpet of salvation!
Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,radiant in the brightness of your King!
Christ has conquered!
Glory fills you!
Darkness vanishes for ever!
Rejoice, O Mother Church!
Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
Let this place resound with joy,echoing the mighty song of all God's people!
My dearest friends,standing with me in this holy light,
join me in asking God for mercy,that he may give his unworthy minister
grace to sing his Easter praises.

Deacon: The Lord be with you.
People: And also with you.
Deacon: Lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them up to the Lord.
Deacon: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is truly right that with full hearts and minds and voices
we should praise the unseen God, the all-powerful Father,and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.
For Christ has ransomed us with his blood,and paid for us the price of Adam's sin to our eternal Father!
This is our passover feast,when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain,whose blood consecrates the homes of all believers.
This is the night when first you saved our fathers:
you freed the people of Israel from their slavery
and led them dry-shod through the sea.
This is the night when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin!
This is the night when Christians everywhere,washed clean of sin and freed from all defilement,are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.
This is the nightwhen Jesus Christ broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave.
What good would life have been to us,had Christ not come as our Redeemer?
Father, how wonderful your care for us!
How boundless your merciful love!
To ransom a slave you gave away your Son.
O happy fault,O necessary sin of Adam,which gained for us so great a Redeemer!
Most blessed of all nights,chosen by God to see Christ rising from the dead!
Of this night scripture says:"The night will be as clear as day:it will become my light, my joy."
The power of this holy night dispels all evil,washes guilt away, restores lost innocence,brings mourners joy;
it casts out hatred, brings us peace,and humbles earthly pride.
Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earthand man is reconciled with God!
Therefore, heavenly Father,in the joy of this night,
receive our evening sacrifice of praise,
your Church's solemn offering.
Accept this Easter candle,a flame divided but undimmed,
a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.
(For it is fed by the melting wax,which the mother bee brought forthto make this precious candle.)
Let it mingle with the lights of heaven and continue bravely burning to dispel the darkness of this night!
May the Morning Star which never sets
find this flame still burning:
Christ, that Morning Star,
who came back from the dead,
and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,
your Son, who lives and reigns for ever and ever.Amen.

Have a blessed Holy Week and Easter

Home Again, Home Again, jigity jig

2008-03-16T22:06:00.003-05:00

NEVER did I EVER think I'd say it, but... Lynyrd Skynyrd was sooo right. The Georgia sky can be pretty but it's got nothing on Alabama's. I can only imagine that Ohio's isn't all that great. Especially, since Steubenville is only about 45 miles from Pittsburg (which means it's only about 6 hours to my aunt's house). Anywho, yeah, Alabama. I hate it, would never choose to live here if there was any way out of it, but man is it nice to visit. I suppose that might have something to do with the fact that there are these three boys who mean the world to me here. And there are also these people I call parents (well, one anyway) who happen to reside here with these other people who are called sisters. They are pretty much awesome.

I do hope I get into Franciscan. Boredom plays with my mind tooo much and encourages sloth. I've never had to study except for math. I'd like to try and change that. It makes me mad that I can make a's and not study. Other people work so hard and I sit here and do nothing and get better grades. I apparently have fooled even Hartmann, though, so I see no point in bothering. Why do extra work to get the same grade? I KNOW... I KNOW, for my own edification and betterment and because I love to learn and all that. Plus, I don't know if I'd take the fellowship again. Seriously, I don't even know if I think it's worth it.

Anywho, once again, Alabama. More specifically, the little boys who run my life in Alabama.
1st - they are not little. Not at all.
2nd- you better not rat me out for stowing them away and taking them to school with me.
3rd- They aren't little anymore.
4th- I can still pick them all up at the same time and walk around with them. They had to find that one out. They thought I wouldn't be able to. Cat, it's been months, we've grown! Haha, you impertinent young men! I'm still stronger than I think I am. And than you think I am. How much do you weigh? More than I do.
5th- "Shall I escort you?" Ok, Daniel's my date to the formal. Yeah, that's right. All you girls can be jealous. I've got the best date a girl could have. A little short, but considerate, caring, and cute.
6th-They aren't little anymore. (can you tell yet that this deeply saddens me? There are no babies in a house that I'm use to there being babies in. Something is missing.)
7th- 100 bottles of beer on the wall can be sung in approximately 7.3 miles. Too bad there were 180 of them.
8th- Shni schna schnappi schnappi schnappi schnap
9th- What is it with boys and oblivion to everything around them?
10th-One day, I'm going to be Jo March Bhaer.

Have a great break. I'll be basking in the glorious Alabama sun with three amazing brothers.

Oh, to be Four Again

2008-03-13T17:05:00.000-05:00

It's THE perfect age: you can blow your own nose, tie your own shoes, write your own name and STILL sit on your mother's lap. I mean, come on, how much better could life get? Some kids can even read at four. I really cannot think of much more bliss than that. No choices to make, no kindergarten or other grades, no life defining desisions, no weird things called hormones, no feeling of lost (you know exactly where you belong- on your mother's lap), no loneliness, no heartache, no confusion, no real temptations: just absolute contentment. AND you can still sit on your mother's lap.

I don't know what age that normally ends. I guess it depends on the kid. I know that it shouldn't be at the age of 7 or 8, though.

Maybe, I'm just very hug- starved right now. It's funny how stuff like that works. I was scared to get hugs, now people are scared to give me hugs. Maybe I'm ready to go home. Maybe the world is too confusing for me right now. Maybe my brain needs a break. Maybe I'm sick of insanity. Maybe I'm sick of assinine behaviour from assinine stalkers. Maybe I'm sick of myself and my inability to ... cope?? Maybe I'm sick of knowing that I can and yet, somehow I can't make myself think I can or won't. Maybe it's because I know I can get away with not; I have fairly decent GPA and barely touch my books- not that I really know what I do with my time- I sit there with my books but I don't really look at them, I get lost in my brain. Maybe I should stop speculating and just go to confession. Again.

My, my, my. I love how I start out with a great thought about how wonderful something is and then lose it to the negative.

Arg.

ONE MORE SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Exile of Christ

2008-03-08T01:21:00.010-05:00

A SHORT REFLECTION ON HOLY SATURDAY

For forty days we fast and we pray and we sacrifice in preparation for the holiest time of the year and in commemoration of Christ's time in the dessert. The Triduum is my absolute favorite liturgical celebration; the symbols and ceremonies are so overwhelming that one can't help but to feel something. From Palm Sunday to the Vigil of Easter there is a feeling of tragedy and hope so intertwined that one cannot feel one without feeling the other. I sometimes think, though, that in the drama of the Last Supper on Holy Thursday and the Passion of Christ on Good Friday and the beauty of the Easter Vigil, the solemnity, somberness, and sorrow of Saturday are overlooked.

I think that Holy Saturday is the saddest day of the year. Yes, Good Friday is when we cause Christ's death. But it is on Saturday that we see the consequence of what we have done: we have banished Him from the earth. If you've never been in a chapel or a Church during the day on Holy Saturday, I encourage you to go this time. Walk in and you will see a bare altar, no sanctuary lamp, and an open and empty tabernacle. Christ is nowhere in there. The Church is barren. Then you realize- "this is my doing". The world is missing Jesus because I asked him to leave; He got on the Cross and he left the Earth because I rejected His love. It's a very lonely and grave feeling. The one place that is a sure comfort is now as miserable as the rest of the world because we made it be. We kicked Christ out. And sitting in that chapel looking at the empty tabernacle, you know something of what the apostles must have felt, and especially something like what Judas must have felt.

And yet, Holy Saturday is the most hopeful and happiest day of the year, too. If you stay long enough (or go late enough, whatever the case may be), you will inevitably see ladies bringing in tons of elaborate flower arrangements and replacing the cloths on the altar. This has always reminded me of the women going to the tomb with perfumes, only to find it empty. Watching this, you know that He didn't leave forever; you that He's coming back and that no matter how many times you reject His love- it will still be offered to you. You know that He's never going to leave you alone, that He'll always be ready for you when you decide that you are ready for Him. It is the day that those who are willing to accept His love are brought into His light. It is the day that ALLELUIA returns! All of the bells around are rung in joy for solid minutes as the Gloria makes its return. I once went to the cathedral in Birmingham for the Easter Vigil (where about 50 people were brought into the Church) and before the Gospel, an acolyte ran into the church and down the center aisle and brought the bishop a scroll and unrolled it, saying breathlessly "I bring you a joyful message" (I don't remember exactly what it is that is said before). And the bishop read an elaborate (musically) Alleluia out to his flock. And this should should be our joy. This is nothing less than the Holiest day of the year.

In all of our sorrow (and we should be sorrowful), in all of our loneliness, in all of our faults, even in the emptiness of the churches- when all is seemingly hopeless- that is when we have the most hope. That is when we physically and truly, truly realize the extent and consequence of our sins. And that is when we realize the extent and magnitude of Christ's love for us.

"O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam that gained for us so great a Redeemer!"

"Do not give in to despair! We are an Easter people and Hallelujah is our song"

A Photo Essay

2008-03-05T00:32:00.006-05:00

They say that a picture's worth 1000 words. I feel like there are hundreds of thousands of words that want to come out, but they can't. And I don't want them to, oddly enough. But concentrating is a little difficult when words refuse to do what you tell them to. So... here's this:

Aren't they cute?

How does a butterfly fly with only a partial wing?

What the heck was my brain doing?

I called it broken soul.

I Think That if I ever have a Son, I will Have to Name him Jeremiah

2008-03-02T03:28:00.004-05:00

For I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. 13 You will seek me and find me; when you seek me with all your heart, 14 I will be found by you, says the LORD, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the LORD, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.

God loves me. He's been soooooooooooo good to me. And I'm am just amazed at things He's done.

God Bless you all- may you each feel His presence as much as I have and more.

Idealynicism Round Two

2008-02-22T20:00:00.003-05:00

(Senator Kemple= italics)

“Hopefully you recall what. Hartmann said yesterday about Israeli politics: that they do not hold themselves responsible for the deaths of Israeli prisoners because they do not negotiate. Really, what does it mean to act practically? It means to act for the sake of usefulness, i.e., at achieving some end. Negotiating an exchange of prisoners, or with terrorists, would be practical in saving lives; it is not practical in dissuading terrorists (which can be told from practical experience); but it is extremely practical within the framework of an ideal, namely that no nation or people should be subject to terrorism (or more specifically in the case of Israel, no Israeli... but it applies in a broader sense, as well).”

If the end is the Good, if it’s God’s will, then what is wrong with acting practically? What other end would I be talking about? You seem to think that I by charity, I mean that no one feels bad or is unhappy or has no discomfort or ill-feelings toward each other or that there's no pain or something. That is definitely not what I mean. I don’t think an ideal world has much room for that kind of charity (if it can be even called charity). Yes, there are different forms of executing charity: I’ll bet that St. John Vianney didn’t hit every single drunkard without discretion. There are some people you have to be forceful with; there are some that it’s better to be gentle with. Like Hartmann said today, you may know the universal, but you need to act with practical knowledge in the particular because the universal may not be appropriate to the particular. Every action has a practical implication and in order to strive for an ideal world, those have to considered. You can’t strive an ideal without considering what is or what will be after another part of the equation is added (the action). In the case of the prisoners, if we know that negotiating with terrorist is not going to lead the right end (an end of hostilities, death, war, religious persecution), then it would not be practical to negotiate as it would lead to exactly the opposite of the end.

When practicality supersedes idealism, then you are not acting for the will of God, the good, but rather for your own will, the apparent good (hey, Aristotle!). God's will, simply put, cannot be achieved by man, and acting as though it can is a hideous example of pride. You cannot bring about peace and harmony, or even justice and right. That's not up to you; that's the attempted imposition of your own will on others, who can choose to act in accord with justice and righteousness or to act in the service of discord and injustice: hence that societal depravity which you do not seem to be properly acknowledging.

When idealism disregards practicality and prudence (which is exercising practical knowledge and judgment for the sake of the good), then that is an even greater example of pride. Where is this coming from? When did I say any of that? What is your point here? How would acting in accordance with charity (which is what I've said) and what I know to be the way most advantageous (for the end, which is the Good, God's will) imposing my will on someone? I'm not sure how I am not "propperly acknowledging" the depravity of society, and how does that change anything? Society is depraved. Very depraved. I know this very well, too well. How else am I going to acknowledge that than by acting in a way that isn't?

No amount of practicality is going to move the world to a better state; I can act as practical as possible and make absolutely no positive impact on those around me, because you know what? Isn't up to me, it's up to them. So I don't go out of my way to make a nuisance to people. I don't go around telling people what I think of them; I don't step on people's toes for the sake of it (which is what you implied by calling it a pettiness). But when they act in a way that is blatantly wrong, I have no problem getting right in their face - and sometimes that means close enough to step on their toes. When you post something on your blog that I think is wrong, I tell you so, because we're friends and honestly I thought you could handle it.

I don't have anything against practicality; I just have something against having your ideals subject to your practicality. I am all for acting practically second to acting idealistically.

Idealism without practical action is useless. Practical action without ideals is useless. You really can't have one without the other. That was the whole point of the blog post. Idealists tend to forget that practical actions are needed (or completely disagree that they are...) and cynics forget that the ideals can be strived for. How is stopping a circular argument not being able to handle it? We're saying the same things over and over. Do you not see that? No, I'm not giving up beause I don't think you're right. Circular arguments have no point. And in the words of the ever beloved Chesterton: "to me, all good things come to a point, swords for instance". You're not "listenting" to what I'm saying at all and I think you're wrong. No point in conitinuing. (Because, you know, no matter what I do, you can still choose to misinterpret me - which is obviously what you are doing as you told me that I was not saying what I am saying.)

Charity, caritas, agape, acting from and for the love of God leaves no room for error or deficiency, principle of non-contradiction, God cannot be where there is a privation, i.e., that which inheres a privation must be moved from without, per accidens, i.e., with violence (not necessarily what we call a violent act, but that which exercises its power upon something else). It's reason, logos, not an excuse, and nothing "excuses" bad behavior, or it wouldn't be bad.

Your last two comments were, frankly, pathetic. I like to argue, Catherine, but I don't argue for the sake of arguing. Your use of a catchphrase and evasion is very, very disappointing. If you want to talk about pettiness, which is a meanness, narrowness, and smallness, then you should probably look to those comments; I see no evidence of magnanimity or charity or even of reason of any kind. If you're going to insult me or the things I say, at least give me some reasons as to why they/I merit such. I'm idealistic, sure, and I'm blunt, but the two are not synonyms.

What if someone holds charity as an ideal...? Unremitting forgiveness is also an ideal.

Please tell me how I insulted you. When did you personally become the subject of this? I never said you were being petty and I didn't say you were blunt and I didn't use that as an example before you did. I know they aren't synomous and never said they were. Really, I don't get this paragraph at all. And how is it that you can tell me that what (you take it that) I'm saying displays a "sure sign of stupidity" (and is something that I absolutely abhor) and is an "admonishment of those who are not lukewarm" among other things, but I'm the one who lacks charity?

Idealynicism

2008-02-19T11:08:00.002-05:00

Idealism: The tendency to represent things in an ideal form, or as they might or should be rather than as they are, with emphasis on values.

Cynicism: An attitude of scornful or jaded negativity, especially a general distrust of the integrity or professed motives of others.

I sometimes wonder if idealists even have the ability to see the world as it is. But then again, I am a semi-professional cynic. It's not that I have a jaded negativity about everything or that I wish to distrust the integrity or motives of others, but it's a bad habbit that formed from a bad experience, or rather, a series of bad experiences.

The idealists that I know, and I do know several, tend not only to present the world in an ideal fashion, but to act in the world in the way that they think the world would ideally act. That sentence confuses me, so let me explain: they act not necessarily in the way that would be best in a particular situation, but in the way that they think they would act if we lived in an ideal world. Since we don't live in an ideal world, though, this tendency can lead to much less than ideal consequences. They tend to disregard tact and sometimes charity which causes confusion at the very least and hatred at worst. I can see why they would want to act to act ideally. I've seen situations where acting ideally is perfectly fine. But something that always amazes me and confuses me is this: they seem to think that by acting "ideally" the world will somehow become more ideal as a whole. I see evidence to the contrary. By acting "ideally" they cause discord and ill-will which takes the world further from being an ideal world, not closer to it when, had they acted in what I'm going to call a practical manner- that is, in a way best suited to a particular situation- their actions would bring harmony and peace, or at least justice and right, which actually moves us closer to something resembling an ideal world. Yet, idealism has its redeeming qualities. There are those idealists who encourage others, who never give up fighting for an ideal world, and who, despite it all, actually do love the world, as much as it isn't so ideal.

Cynicism, on the other hand, hasn't really any redeeming qualities at all, at least, none that I can see. We tend to be more likely to give up because it's just no use; we tend to be hyper-critical of people (including ourselves) and we tend to "hate life". I think sometimes we even tend to act not in accordance with what is best, or "ideally", but apathetically. We can see what the world should be and we see how it is. And it's so far from ideal that there's really no point in even bothering. After all, what difference does it make, people aren't going to change, and nothing we do is ever going to be of any help. - It's a very bleak way to think.

Enter reality. The world is not ideal. But the world is not the most dismal thing possible. People act horridly sometimes. But they can be taught or persuaded (by reason...) to act otherwise. And on the flip side: even if I would act this way in an ideal world, we are not in an ideal world and therefore, perhaps, it's better to act practically. I think sometimes that the idealists get so lost in the ideals that they really cannot see how ideals impropperly applied are actually (and sometimes extremely) detrimental. And the cynics get so lost in the filth that they forget that they have the ability to clean. In order to get to the ideal, we must get through the muck- without adding to it.

The cynics add to the muck by refusing to see that it can be cleaned. The idealists add to the muck by refusing to clean in order. They vacuum before they dust. And then they wind up having to vacuum again and more. The cynics refuse to see that we can be lifted into the ideal. The idealists refuse to see that we do indeed need to be lifted; they bring it down to us before we are ready.

Cynics wallow in the muck. They see the clouds as unattainable and fanciful.

Idealists are in the clouds. But the clouds are much higher than the earth. It's not ideal to bring them to earth. We get fog. We have to bring earth to the clouds.

Some Favorite Quotes

2008-02-14T00:09:00.004-05:00

I'm a little bored. And a litle frustrated. And a little hopeful. And a little pensive, a little scared, a little bold, a little angry, a little sad, and a lot amazed and happy at the people God has put in my life (and oddly enough, this particular instance, I'm not even really talking about people that I've met, though I do love you, too). I don't know what all that has to do with the post, though, except that what I want to write about, I can't.

Anywhoo, here ya go:

"...who is it that will be able to take you out of my hands? Even if you were in the vestibule of Hell, and if there remained outside but a single hair of your head, that would be sufficient enough for me to drag you from the claws of the devil and transport you to Heaven" ~ Saint Joseph Cafasso

"Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and Halleluia is our song." ~John Paul II

"horribly beautiful" ~ Nick

"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love." ~Mother Teresa

"Brothers and sisters: I, a prisoner for the Lord,urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received,with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace: one body and one Spirit, as you were also called to the one hope of your call; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. " ~Ephesians 4:1-6.

"How far we are from the true spirit of Sacred Music. How can we stand it that such a wave of inconsistent, arrogant, and ridiculous profanities have gained a stamp of approval in our celebrations?" ~ Msgr. Grau.

"Whether it is Bach or Mozart that we hear in church, we have a sense in either case of what Gloria Dei, the glory of God, means. The mystery of infinite beauty is there and enables us to experience the presence of God more truly and vividly than in many sermons. But there are already signs of danger to come. Subjective experience and passion are still held in check by the order of the musical universe, reflecting as it does the order of the divine creation itself. But there is already the threat of invasion by the virtuoso mentality, the vanity of technique, which is no longer the servant of the whole but wants to push itself to the fore." ~ Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, NOW POPE BENEDICT XVI!!!! (I'm making fun of Ignatius Press, I just don't have a little gold sticker...)

"All life demands struggle. Those who have everything given to them become lazy, selfish, and insensitive to the real values of life. The very striving and hard work that we so constantly try to avoid is the major building block in the person we are today" ~ Pope Paul VI

"Musical people always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment one is longing to be perfectly deaf" ~ Oscar Wilde.

"Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling." ~G.K. Chesterton

"Love—caritas—will always prove necessary, even in the most just society. There is no ordering of the State so just that it can eliminate the need for a service of love. Whoever wants to eliminate love is preparing to eliminate man as such. There will always be suffering which cries out for consolation and help. There will always be loneliness. There will always be situations of material need where help in the form of concrete love of neighbour is indispensable" PBXVI

"Their infernal parallels seem to expand with distance but for me all good things come to a point, swords for instance"- Chesterton

Reason is always a kind of brute force; those who appeal to the head rather than the heart, however pallid and polite, are necessarily men of violence. We speak of 'touching' a man's heart, but we can do nothing to his head but hit it." ~...Chesterton...

"I have never killed a man, but I've read many an obituary with great pleasure." ~ Clarence Darrow

"Bongiorno principessa!!!!"

"And now let the revolutionists choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world, carefully weighing all the gods of inevitable recurrence and unalterable power. They will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. Nay (the matter grows too difficult for human speech), but let the atheists themselves choose a god. They will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which God seemed for an instant to be an atheist."
and

"And when it rains on your parade, Look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow."

- G.K.C.

"I've always regretted speaking wrong, but I've never regretted biting my tongue."

"He who covers up a misdeed fosters friendship, but he who gossips about it separates friends." --Proverbs 17:9

"Cursed be gossips and the double-tongued, for they destroy the peace of many." --Sirach 28

These are just a few, and most of them some of you have already somewhere.

Spider webs are gorgeous when they are frozen in the mornings.

Eyelashes are strange in the reflections of glasses from the sun shining in your face.

I'm in such a strange mood.

Where Charity and Love Prevail...

2008-02-08T21:10:00.000-05:00

...There God is ever found. This is why we as Catholics must always be aware of what charity is and, almost more importantly, I think, what it is not. There can be no real charity if earth is the only realm that charity has relevance in, for if charity is anything, it is concern for another human's soul. Christ said "Love your enemies" He did not say befriend them. He said that you must forgive when others wrong you, but He did not say that you must forget. In fact, it would be quite idiotic and asinine to claim that forgetting has anything to do with forgiving.

There was a long time -years- that I struggled with forgiveness. I think that given my childhood and events stemming from that childhood, it's at least semi-understandable (which is not to say excusable). The association of forgiveness with mushy, warm fuzzies and happily ever afters kind of threw me off, I think. But forgiveness is not about warm fuzzies. That's not to say that warm fuzzies
shoud never result from forgiveness- I think that's as silly as saying that they always should- that's simply to say that God does not require us to feel anything. Of course, being humans, we will feel something. We can forgive and still feel angry or hurt or sad; we can also forgive and feel love or peace or happiness. Forgiveness is not about feelings. When we forgive, we will to forgive.

More often than not, I hope, we are called to forgive tiny things, things that probably should not bother us as much as we may let them. These things should not make us feel hatred or anger. These things should not cause friendships to end or families to be broken. There are some things that we are called to forgive, however, that necessarily end friendships and break families. If a man hits his children and wife, no matter how much he is forgiven, his family is still broken and there is still hurt.

In forgiving, we are not asked to put ourselves or anyone else in danger. As an example, I'll just use me. My grandmother thinks that in order for us to have actually forgiven her husband, we have to have a relationship with him. Now, when I was 13, IF that had happened, I would have been in serious danger of being raped by him (and as much as I may blow things out of proportion or over react, that statement is a true as if I had said "I am Catherine".) There are three things that I don't understand with this theory. First, even for someone who equates forgivness with warm fuzzies, how can one think that this would produce positive feelings rather than more anger and more fear? Second, how is putting the dignity of your person in danger loving yourself? Thirdly, how is allowing someone to persist in actions danerous to his soul loving your neighbor OR your enemy?

I've oftened wondered where this idea of forgiveness meaning letting people off of the hook came from. It's so different from anything divine; God is mericful, yes, but He is just in His mercy. Perhaps it came with the Protestant elimanation of Purgatory (a sad thing, by the way, I'm so glad we have it). It would make sense that as long as there is no punishment after death for those who made it to Heaven even though they sinned, then we should also not punish those who need it. If that is their idea of God's mercy, then it would follow that it should be ours, too. But is letting someone continue to act in ways that jeopardize his salvation actually being merciful or even just? Absolutely not. Two of the spiritual works of mercy show us that: instruct the ignorant and admonish the sinner. If the sinner recieves no admonishment, he recieves permission. As Christians, we are not called to simply let things go or forgive and forget, but to love one another; we are called to care for the souls of others. The idea of wram fuzzy forgiveness goes against the Gospels. Letting another person stomp all over you or get away with sin only endangers his soul. And that is in no way charitable. It's cowardly.

If we skew the meaning of charity in such way that it no longer refers to a supernatural type of love, how will we ever bring others to find Christ?

The Painful Beauty of Womanhood

2008-01-31T19:30:00.000-05:00

I am often inclined to kill Eve.

"So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate.... To the woman he said, 'I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children.'"

He wasn't lying.

Most of us (girls) have experienced some of the result of this punishment (and I dare say hope to experience the full result; let's put this into perspective, shall we?). The world tells us that we really shouldn't have to bear it. In fact, it tells us not to bear it. I mean, who really wants to be debilitated for two or three days or more every month? Who wants to not be able to function normally, who wants to be barely able to move and yet must move because of things to do and places to be? Who likes not being able to eat for wanting to vomit or simply smelling food and wanting to vomit? Who wants to miss class or work or anything every time "that time" rolls around? Who wants to do this, especially when there are options that allow it to be completely avoided? Not I, I can tell you that for sure.

I'm not saying it's wrong to treat the pain. I would never say that. I almost think it's more wrong to not treat it, especially if it is regularly extreme. But when the treating it becomes thinking of it as a horrible burden and hating being a woman, when the pain stops being treated and it begins to be the functions themselves that are being treated, then perhaps we should re-examine our way of thinking about it.

Even if we must think of it as a burden, we should remember that God's idea of a burden is an oppurtunity to love Him and to love others. Human suffering is not without purpose. And I have to think that a suffering given to one sex rather than both is a special kind of suffering. It is, of course, a suffering in tune with our nature (for God could never make us not in tune with our natures), one that reaffirms the vocation of women.

Love is suffering. The ultimate example that we have of this is Christ. "No greater love is there than this: to lay down one's life for his friends." That's kind of what's asked of us. Only we aren't to die- as much as we may feel that death is coming, but to live (as women) for our friends, our family, our (potential, future... lol) spouses and children. We give up our bodies for those we love. I never thought I'd say it and I never EVER thought I'd write it, especially not in a public space, but the period is a beautiful thing. It is an oppurtunity to love by suffering. It reminds me of some words in one of my most favorite prayers ever (which I'll post at the end) "and only this love, grounded on suffering, can carry the Cross of my Lord Jesus Christ. Love without egotism, without relying on self, but enkindling in the depth of the heart an ardent thirst to love and suffer for all those around us: a thirst that neither misfortune nor contempt can extinguish..." And we have a chance to love like that, to use basically our entire lives as a way of showing love.

And it's from this type of suffering that life comes (which, of course, brings a different type of suffering, a type about which I can say nothing, because I know nothing). And even for those women who do not have children, life can spring from this suffering because she can still care for others and live for others in a way that brings them to Christ and, hence, to Life.

There is testing going on for a drug that suspends the period indefinitely. As much as I think I'd like to say "wow, how wonderful!" I'm much more wary of what this will do to women. And to men. Forget the physical side effects, which I doubt I could begin to imagine (really, how screwed up would your body be after that?) what are the psychological effects going to be? I'm reminded of a (dun dun dun) Chesterton quote: "Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel." Women have already been "freed" from the burden of fertility- the results of being a woman. And now they can be free from the burden of being a woman. This means that men no longer have to be men. They have been "freed" from the burden of responsibility and now they can be free from the burden of impatience and respect.

But if we suffer ourselves to be women, then we suffer for women and for men and for God's kingdom- for Life.

This prayer was written by Blessed Miguel Pro. He was martyred in Mexico in November of 1927.

Does our life become from day to day more painful, more oppressive, more replete
with afflictions? Blessed be He a thousand times who desires it so. If life be
harder, love makes it also stronger, and only this love, grounded on suffering,
can carry the Cross of my Lord Jesus Christ. Love without egotism, without
relying on self, but enkindling in the depth of the heart an ardent thirst to
love and suffer for all those around us: a thirst that neither misfortune nor
contempt can extinguish... I believe, O Lord; but strengthen my faith... Heart
of Jesus, I love Thee; but increase my love. Heart of Jesus, I trust in Thee;
but give greater vigor to my confidence. Heart of Jesus, I give my heart to
Thee; but so enclose it in Thee that it may never be separated from Thee. Heart
of Jesus, I am all Thine; but take care of my promise so that I may be able to
put it in practice even unto the complete sacrifice of my life.

P.S.- It's Saint Brigid's feast day.

The Same Thing from a Different Perspective

2008-01-25T17:06:00.000-05:00

This semester, as any frequent Mass go-er should have noticed, the chapel has been pretty full. This and my work schedule (until 12 everyday but Tuesday) has been the reason that I have been sitting in different places at daily Mass (although thanks to Fayth, that's not a problem anymore).

I looked out the window from the chairs to left of the altar (if you are standing in the middle aisle) so Father's right. The leaves were ugly brownish green. I was so upset. It seems funny to be upset by the color of leaves, but I was definitely disappointed that they weren't actually green. I guessed it meant I had been seeing things the way I wanted to see them, not as they really were. For a few days, I could not find anything green that was REALLY green; it was all blehish green.

Then Fayth saved me a seat where I normally sit. And they were green. The light shining on them made them shiny green. It made them look as though they were new. It wasn't just me after all.

To me, it seems very strange to take meaning from something like this. I feel silly, actually. But it was Light. We can allow the Light to shine on us and make us look (and feel) vibrant and green or we can hide in the shadows and not allow the Light to touch us. We'll become ugly and brown if we don't allow the light to shine on us. We'll be beaten and bitter. To us, sometimes the shadows seem more comfortable and more safe, but it's actually out in the open where we find Light.

Perhaps this is rambly and weird and strange. But to me it makes a kind of sense.

Dear Mr. Metro-Man,

2008-01-23T21:20:00.000-05:00

I suppose I could start off by mocking or insulting you or simply pointing out your idiocies, but except for that last little bit, I will refrain. I do wish you had stayed on the train just a while longer. (Oh how much fun we could have had.) When fighting for something, the thing to do is not really walk out on the argument; if you truly believe in something, you should fight for it to the death!

The bumper sticker that upset you so much said "Abortion stops a beating heart". That, sir, is not opinion, nor is it subjective- it is simply a scientific fact, it is Truth if you will. A baby's heart (and yes, it is a baby, even the word "fetus" doesn't really avoid that, except through connotation, for all that it means is "infant") begins to beat at 18 days. This is before most women even know they are pregnant. Did this bumper sticker offend you so much because of the truth behind it?

"It's not a person". Somehow, I have to think that if you were a tiny blob of tissue in a uterus, you would change your opinion. Honestly, I cannot fathom how one can rationally say that. Maybe, "It's not a person if it isn't wanted by everyone invovled" would be a better phrase for how does one justify calling it a baby when both parents want and love it. How is it justifiable to try someone on murder changes for an unborn child if the parents intended to keep it and yet permit abortion and call it a fetus if it is killed by abortion? Does changing the word by which we call something change what it is? Absolutely not. This is a double standard and do you know who it affects the most?

The poor. Now, I'm sure you had no idea, but I'm from South Alabama (I have to wonder at what your reaction to THAT would be. Not exactly the stereotypical south Alabamian...). Alabama bribes companies to come in by saying that they don't have to pay their employees as much. Workers in my area are paid on average 20% less for the same job as anywhere else in the country. I know poor. They are targeted by abortion. What? Yes. The poor are the targets of abortion. Actually, the poor and the black (which happen to be synonomous for some). Type in "Margaret Sanger abortion" on google and prepare to be appalled at the results. Did you have any idea that the motive of the founder of that wonderful and auspicious organization Planned Parenthood (note the sacrcasm, please) was Hitler's hero(ine?) and that her goal was to exterminate the negro race? She also wanted to sterilize those who she considered "unfit" to reproduce: the poor, the physically unpleasant, and those with lower IQs. Again, I live in the south. It's hard to determine which is the cause of which, poverty the cause of low IQs or low IQs the cause of poverty. Location, of course plays a part. There are certainly smart people in the south. But I wonder if not having the chance to expand your knowledge has to do with being poor. And I know that being poor has to do with not being able to expand your knowledge. Probably 90% of the people I know at home would be on her list of those worthy of extermination. Well Fare just wants them off of their lists. I knew social worker who was told that he should just tell all of the black women to have abortions. He was not to offer them any other help. They should have abortions or they should find another way. How many women were driven to abortion by this type of "help"? How many lives were lost because the poor are worthless? How many women's lives have been absolutely torn apart by governemt endorsed eugenics??? HOW IS THIS NOT TARGETING THE POOR?????? If abortion was illegal, this would not be an option. Help would actually be given!

I really do wish you'd stayed on that train. I would have at least been able to form a slightly decent opinion of you. As it is, I can help but think that you are a coward.

The March isn't about laws. The march isn't about opinions or ideas or imposition of beliefs. The march is for the very people you seem to think that it's against. It is for those considered worthy of extermination. It is about Truth and Justice. It is about dignity and integrity, something this nation can never describe itself as having if it refuses to want Truth and to take care of those who are most vulnerable.

Signed,
One of the creeps on the orange line at Metro Center.

Something is Always Green: Reflections From the Chapel Window

2008-01-15T14:48:00.000-05:00

Anyone who's been to Mass at Southern Catholic knows that there is a lot of glass, especially behind the altar. At first, this was something that I thought I would not like. I thought it would be distracting. And I know that I have seen people fixing their hair when they catch a glimpse of themselves in one of the windows. But I have found that I do, indeed, like it. As I said to a friend, it's got lots of windows, so when you go visit Jesus on a beautiful day, it's an amazing place to be and it kind of makes you just think about how wonderful He is and when you go visit Him on gross days, it's a kind of refuge and you think about how safe and warm and dry and comforted you feel.

All throughout last semester, I watched things turn brown and die out of the far side altar windows. Except one thing. It was a very small thing and it was almost gone when we left- just a long shoot off of one the bushes. It would constanltly blow around in the wind, bobbing up and down. I was kind of amazed that the leaves were still there after they had turned mostly brown. I wouldn't have thought that they were that strong or that hardy; I would have expected them to become brittle and frail and blow away. But they didn't. Long after everything else had lost its leaves, this single, little shoot had its. I watched until we left. It lost most of its leaves, but a few at the very end were still clinging to it. They gradually lost their color and every now and then one leaf would go missing, but when we left, some were still there.

They were gone when we got back. I will admit, I was slightly sad. I don't know why. It made me feel almost lonely. And then I looked further out the window. There was a little tree thing (I'm not quite sure what it was exactly) that was green. Completely green, a shiny, vibrant green; not a dull worn out but still hanging on green. I don't remember seeing this before we left. I remember not seeing any green but the worn out hanging on green of the little shoot. My brain is telling me, though, that its January and it can't possibly be new. My eyes say they look new. Perhaps, they've just perked up. I'm not sure and I don't think that I want to know.

I think this was what I call a "God hug." I've been quite a miserable creature to be near lately. A severe bout of discouragement and disappointment, I think. Knowing that everything will be ok and thinking that are two different things for me. It's something I am trying to work on, but when things don't seem ok to me, I tend to just stop hoping. It's not a good thing. I know that problems are not the end of the world. I know that dwelling on things makes them no better. I know that life can suck every now and then. And I should know that hope is the only way through it. I should know that it's only humans who will disappoint me, never God. Pope Benedict, in his encyclical written especially for me (ha!) writes that "we have been given hope, trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can face our present: the present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads towards a goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey."

Well, of course it is! Perhaps I could change the context a little and say "we have been given hope, trustworthy hope, by virtue of which we can face our present: the present, even though/ when it is arduous, can be lived and accepted because it leads towards a goal, and we can be sure of this goal, and this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey."

Those little green leaves sparked something in me that reassured me of this. (I had not read the encyclical yet, I had just been thinking). Those little green leaves were my symbol of hope. The little shoot's leaves had an arduous winter, constantly being blown about by the non-feeling and unsympathetic wind. And yet, they had persisted; they had not become frail and blown away. Not until their time to blow away had come, anyway. There is always something green when I look out the far side of the altar windows.

There is always a reason to hope, and there is always God Who will not disappoint and Who will justify the effort of the journey.

Little Boys

2008-01-10T22:16:00.000-05:00

Are amazing. I'm going to miss my brothers too much.

A collection of things they've said:

Dominic-
The people in my head tell me what to do.
~Really?
Yeah. There are fourteen of them and one of them just got the job this morning.

Daniel to Dominic after a woman pulled out in front of my mother.

- Dom, do you know what kind of person that is?
~ Yeah, Dan. An IDIOT.
- That's RIGHT!

Daniel:
Hi, Cat. Are you ok? Your curls look like you've had a rough day.

David:
Her curls are angry. You know happens when her curls are angry. (Nothing, btw, they were just being ridiculous. )

Dominic and me
I don't want to go back to school, Dom.
I know. But you have to because you should get married.
-What? Why?
Because you would make a good wife.
-What? Why?
Because you have curly hair.
-I would make a good wife because I have curly hair?
Yeah, and it's kind of red.

(seeing my hair straight)
Cat, I thought you had curly hair.
- Of course she does. She just brushed it today.

Oh man. I'm going to miss the strange creatures that I love and call brothers.

Bitter and Blue/Grow a Brain, Loser

2008-01-07T01:08:00.000-05:00

I am holding a grudge (not quite literally) against guys right now. I'm all bitter and grouchy from other stuff and so it's either one person which would not be good or me and some population sort of. I don't really think that all guys are awful. Quite a few are, but there are, I suppose, exceptions.

The grudge started during Thanksgiving break. The day before the break and the first day of it were bad days. The second day, my mom and I had some errands in town and we kept running into this guy whose father used to work with my dad. He's about 35 and just got his first job as a bouncer at the bar. And since his dad worked with my dad, I saw him all while growing up. I never spoke to him. I never had anything to do with him, really. So anyway, something came up about following and he said to my mother "Yeah, I was (following). I was hoping you'd take him (his dad) and let me take her home with me."

Jerk.

Then there are always those random incidents which are just plain annoying. The incident of my pet peeve nature. Guys whistling or honking or saying things. YUK. But Friday, man, one guy was such an idiot that he almost caused an accident. Then were more of them at Walmart. And more somewhere else. I was so mad at the end of the day. I shouldn't let things like that bother me as much as that, and i normally don't. Friday, though, it really bothered me (probably because it's been happening a lot lately and I was already in a bitter mood about something else). So

Ten Things Guys Should Not Do:

1.)Please do not call a girl "baby" or any other term of endearment at your first meeting. And even more so if you haven't ever met.

2.)Do not follow a girl that you might like around. This will creep her out and everything you do after that will be found annoying, creepy, or pathetic.

3.)Do not try and impress a girl by acting like a jerk.

4.)Do not whistle, honk, gawk, or yell at a girl passing by. And PLEASE do not turn around and stick your head out of the window of your truck while honking as you are DRIVING by. This could cause a wreck. That could lead to people getting hurt or worse. Besides that, she would have to stay because she was a witness. This might mean that she has to endure more obnoxiousity from you.

5.)do not point at a girl that you see in the walmart parking lot to the guy walking next to you.

6.)do not say to her mother "i was hoping you'd let me take her home with me" if you don't know her, and especially not if you are over ten year her senior.

7.)if the girl consistently does not answer and does not call you back, or doesn't respond to your emails or facebook posts/messages, give it up. She isn't going to. And she's probably already told you that. Several times.

8.)do not talk about your male anatomy anywhere near her. especially not a dinner.

9.) do not make comments about her (or any other girl's or even just in general) female anatomy.

10.)do not fart for her amusement. or yours. it's gross.

I am not THAT pretty, I am not an object and I'm not a freak. I am a person and would like to be treated that way. Blehlck

Merry Christmas to All

2007-12-24T02:22:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas, you guys!

You are all amazing and I really don't know what I'd do without you. Besides be very lonely.

Here's a short little story for anyone who cares:

The other day, Daniel was really mad at Dominic for something (probably silly) and he yelled "WELL, DOM, YOU'RE JUST NOT CUTE!!!" At which Dominic promptly burst into tears and came crying to me.

Oh dear. What have we done to little guy? Youngest child syndrome much?

Although, it's really fun to tease him that he just isn't cute.

I had a Thought in Latin

2007-12-03T19:52:00.000-05:00

Yeah, if Latin was in the computer lab, there would be a new post every Monday and Thursday. About random things. It might be interesting.

I would feel like I had a good return on a poor investment anyhow. And it would be my consolation for failing the class...

Objectification ~ Something for my Girls ~

2007-11-28T02:19:00.000-05:00

This is not a new subject for me- many of you have heard me going off on a rant about pick-up lines and how they tend to objectify women. I've been told that perhaps, I'm taking things a bit too far. Perhaps I am, but I doubt it. I've only just now figured out why it is that I get so uptight about objectification: I spent my memorable childhood (I just mean the part that I remember) as the sexual object of a perverse old man. I know what objectification is; I know what happens to those objectified. The problem is that it takes soooo long to see and to figure out these things, that it's too late. I'm sure it didn't help that I was eight at the time, and therefore pretty much unable to comprehend it, but I see other women my age and older dealing with the same thing and even, for me, dealing with something similar and still not fully realizing or not wanting to realize what's happening.

Most girls who read this probably listened to the Christopher West series in Villa four. At one point he said that "you must refuse to let yourself be lusted after" - Men do this by more than just looking at porn. Pick-up lines, for instance. Ok, so I won't go off on that rant, but I will say that any time a man intimates that he wishes to get to know you by using sexual language, he sees you as an object, not as a person. Never date a guy who uses pick-up lines. Besides treating you as an object, he's completely unoriginal; they get them online and think they're brilliant. You are not here for a guy's sexual pleasure. Really, if a guy honks or whistles or yells some random pick up line at you (my top pet peeves), why is he doing it? He doesn't know you. He doesn't even want to know you. He's only seen you. You are not an object. You are not a toy. You are not here for some guy's sexual gratification. Don't let them make you think that you are.

You are person. Demand respect.

Something That Started out Being a Short Peice for the Newspaper, but Kinda Turned Weird

2007-11-24T02:35:00.000-05:00

A subject that comes up here frequently is that of music: music as “expression;” music as an art form; and most predominantly, music at Mass. This really is quite natural considering that we are at a Catholic school and the Liturgy is the “source and summit” of the Church’s actions. We should definitely give the Mass all of the honor and awe that is due to it.

In The Closing of the American Mind, Allan Bloom writes that “music is the medium of the human soul.” Music speaks to and speaks for the soul. One of the most prominent external aspects of the Mass is its music. It is an expression of our worship of Christ and a way in which God’s glory can be made known to us. It should be no surprise, then that this element of Mass is argued about quite frequently.

There is really only one aesthetic requirement that music at Mass must meet: that it be beautiful. This is because, as Pope Benedict XVI says, beauty “enables us to experience the presence of God.” Here one may say "but beauty is subjective." I answer: not quite. Beauty is defined as by Webster's dictionary as "the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit." Yet again one might say, “what exalts individual minds or spirits is subjective.” I answer: not true.That which is the highest Good is God. The ultimate goal of every man is (or should be) to reach the greatest Good. Man cannot reach Good without goodness; man's spirit cannot be lifted to the highest Good by something that is not good. Because of the nature of “good” something cannot be good and not lift man's spirit to God, even if man does not realize that his spirit is being lifted. This is why beauty is not subjective. But, because of sin, beauty can be perverted but still seem beautiful. A prime example of the perversion of beauty is seen in human sexuality. I am not saying that human sexuality is beauty perverted. Human sexuality is wondrously beautiful when it is not used in a perverted fashion. It fulfills the requirement of lifting the soul to God. But when a man (or a woman) uses his sexuality in any way other than that which was intended, it no longer lifts his soul; in fact, it drags his soul away from God, yet, it still can be mistakenly perceived as good.The same is true of music. St. Augustine said, “Music, that is the science or the sense of proper modulation, is likewise given by God's generosity to mortals having rational souls in order to lead them to higher things." Beautiful music lifts the soul to God. This is the purpose of music at Mass: to lift the souls of the faithful to God.

The Church has given us guidelines about which types of music are more appropriate at Mass, which type of music best lift souls, and, as always, explanations about why. In his Chirograph for the Centennial of the Motu Proprio Trale Sollecitudint on Sacred Music, Pope John Paul II quoted, and hence, reiterated Pope Pius XII’s statement, "The more closely a composition for church approaches in its movement, inspiration and savour the Gregorian melodic form, the more sacred and liturgical it becomes; and the more out of harmony it is with that supreme model, the less worthy it is of the temple" This is because Gregorian chant was developed specifically for the Latin (as in Roman) liturgy. The music was developed to fit the words, the words of the Word; the Word was not fitted to secular music. Gregorian chant is so special in the Church because it has no roots in secular music. It was made to fit the sacred. The sacred was not conformed to it. This singularness is why Gregorian chant is given “pride of place” in the Roman Liturgy.

This is not to say that chant is the only music that can or should be used at Mass. Sacred music should be developed; cultures change. But just because sacred music should be developed does not mean that “the old stuff” should be forgotten. Quite the contrary, it should be treasured and kept alive to be passed down to all generations.

Sacred music should be developed from the sacred, not the secular. The “liturgical musician” should be educated in the history, purpose, and rules of sacred music because the way in which we adorn the Mass should not be arbitrary. It should not be based solely on how someone feels or what someone likes. It should be based on the appropriateness for the liturgy, which is judged by an historical, a theological, and an aesthetic standard. Each piece of the Mass that is sung has a different historical, theological, and aesthetic meaning and purpose. It is the work of sacred music to portray those meanings. It is not the work of Sacred music to make people feel good, or to make them happy or comfortable. I’m sure Christ wasn’t comfortable on the Cross.

Several times in the history of the Church, it has been necessary to remind the faithful of the sacredness that should be present in the music used at Mass. Sacred means something special, different, set apart for something higher than one’s self, something that is not ordinary or mundane. The Mass is the prime example of Sacredness. There is nothing more sacred than receiving the physical body and blood of our Savior. The music used at Mass should remind of this. Music at Mass should not be modeled off of the everyday secular music that we listen to. The music of the Mass should be built around the sacredness and mystery of the True Presence of Our Lord.

And this is why modern music really has no place at Mass: it has more roots in the secular than in the sacred. We often hear that today’s society is highly individualistic and ego-centric and, while it may seem far-fetched to some, that is clearly seen in lots of the recently (last 40 years or so) composed music used at Mass. “Here I am, Lord” “Gather us in” “We are the Light of the World” “Servant Song” “City of God”- those are all very mild examples of this. There are many that are much worse; there are the quite blatantly the “pat ourselves on the back” type songs. The words of the music are supposed to lead us to worship and to praise; what the words are saying is what we led to praise. If we constantly hear songs that praise ourselves in relation to the world and to God, rather than praising God in relation to us (us as lovers, worshipers, helpers, and guides to others or children of God [note the feel goodness] as opposed to God as a creator, Redeemer, Saviour, ect,) we are going to get into the mindset of "me".

This is what leads Monsignior Grau (President of the Pontifical Institue of Sacred Music) to say, "How far we are from the true spirit of sacred music. How can we stand it that such a wave of inconsistent, arrogant and ridiculous profanities have so easily gained a stamp of approval in our celebrations?" Open any OCP hymnal and you will find words that are over-flowing with me-ness if you’re lucky; with heresy if you aren’t.

Dr. Bruce stresses the importance of words. Psychological studies show that words even subconsciously affect the way a person thinks and acts (a random series of words- five words a line and about ten or fifteen lines- which a person is supposed to make a sentence (4 words) out of as fast as he can - something like green mean lights shove go, only each sentence has a trigger word and the trigger words are all connected to a concept or an emotion, such as getting old, or agression or politeness and the trigger words, though the person is unconscious of any change, actually do change the way a person acts. It's called priming.) If something as random as placing the words "wrinkle" and "Florida" together in series of scrambled sentences make our unconscious minds think of getting old and manifests itself in our wlking more slowly (one of the studies I read about), how much more so will something done consciously make us think of what it says? The I and me do not go unoticed. They spill into the way we think about Mass; and then, the Mass becomes more about "me" than about God.

And that is why people get so passionate about music. It isn't just something random, it's indoctrinating.

Awed by Love

2007-11-21T00:20:00.000-05:00

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not
proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it
keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the
truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

My father loves me. I'm ashamed to admit that I never realized or appreciated just how much. Ever since ... forever, really, but especially since we born, my father has worked so hard to provide us with what we need, and even harder to give us what we want. I remember when I was a little girl, that spending time with Dad was a special thing because he normally worked 80-90 hours a week, night shift. He would always make time for us, though. His favorite thing was to make his girls smile.

When I was about five, my mom took us to Philadelphia so that she could help my grandmother pack and sell her house. I don't remember how long we stayed, but I remember the day that a package came for us from my dad. There were all sorts of things inside of it, but I only remember one: a video. He had and borrowed a friend's recorder and made a movie of him taking care of the farm. He went through each of our animals (mine, believe it or not, was a goat. her name was Goldie and I had bottle-fed her and she was kind of like a dog. She was always getting out of the fence to come greet us), and he showed us how much they missed us. Goldie wouldn't stay in her pen at all and went wandering around the yard bleating, Carolynne's dog, Dixie, would not stop barking, Christina's chicken hatched her egg, but the little one kept getting picked on so Dad assured her that he had moved it and taken care of it for her. We still have that movie; it's labeled "Dad Loves his Girls."

My dad worked at a text-tile mill for fifteen years. When I was around 12 or 13, it became pretty clear that the mill jobs would soon be out-sourced. My dad, in order to prevent long term hardship, enrolled in the local technical school to get certified as an HVAC technician. For the next two years, he went to work at 6pm, worked until 6am, drove to school, slept in the parking lot for two hours, went to class from 8-noon, came home, ate lunch with us, went to sleep, and started over again. Sometimes, he would try and get some yard work done. During the fifteen years he worked there, he took one vacation. He went to work no matter what; one time, had a fever of 104 and still went to work, despite Mom's warnings. Because he worked so hard while he was sick, he damaged nerves in his arm and suffers from that a lot.

When the mill finally did close, things still did not go that well, he went through a series of jobs, that while absolutely crummy and awful for him, were good for us-like the chicken job, so he perserved. Eventually he found a job in Birmingham, repairing reefer (refridgerator) units on semis. He loved doing that job. Unfortunately, the boss didn't like him. He was promised a raise several times and never given it. He definitately deserved it; even the boss acknowledged that he was one of his best techs; he could do things that no one else there could. But things with the boss escalated and my dad didn't like being so far from us (Birmingham is three hours away, he stayed up there with family during the week, came home on weekends). Before the things with the boos came to a head (but not very much before), he found a job only 50 miles away doing the same thing. This time his boss was a decent man. My dad loved working for him, and the boss knew how great he was at this job. His boss, however, was soon transferred and the one who came instead thought even worse of him than the one in Bimingham. His evaluations were never accurate. Things weren't good for my dad at all. A guy at his work stole his tools (thousands of dollars worth). He died and when his sister came to get his stuff, my dad didn't have the heart to tell her that they weren't his. His boss always told him how bad he was at his job (despite the fact that his boss also had to ask him how to do things). Dad went to a national training thing for ThermoKing and was the first person to ever solve the problem. And he didn't even use the computers. One day, my father was talking to his old boss- a person of quite a bit seniority within the company- about what the current one was doing- it was all stuff against the handbook. Within a week, my dad was fired for "voicing disagreement with management."

Over the next couple of years, my dad had a series of jobs 50-90 miles away. Eventually, he got tired of the commute and it became not worth it with gas prices. So he found jobs here. These jobs weren't enough, though. It stressed him out to have to worry so much about paying bills. He didn't care about the bills, he wanted to be able to give us yeses when we asked for something. He wanted to be able to bring my mom a random present just because he loves her.

Somehow, during all this time, he taught me how to wire a house, how to shoot a gun, how to skin what you shoot, how to build a barn, how to rebuild a car (we're still working on that one), how to run a farm for food and profit, and how to do so many other things, that if I were to name them all, it would take a book. But what he really did was show wme how to love.

Now, he's across the country, working at a job that he doesn't particulary care for, in weather that he absolutely hates (10 degrees is the high tomorrow. He works outside and it's snowing.) He works in a crew that doesn't particularly like him because he's better than they are at the job. They go behind him and undo what he has done. His immediate boss thinks incompetent. He wants to move him to a different crew. A crew where it wouldn't be possible for my mother and siblings to follow him. His boss's boss, though, saw the guys doing that. They've been warned, but the tension is still there for my dad. All this he has done because he loves us. He didn't do it for the money, he didn't do it because he wanted to; he did it because if he did, life would be easier for us. If he did, he would be able to say yes to things we wanted, he could have flowers randomly sent to the door for my mother, he could help his daughter buy food and pepperspray and clothes and tuition.

And I didn't care until last year. I loved my dad, yes. I also argued incessantly with him. I loved our time together, but didn't always want it. I sometimes was attitudical about it. (You guys have never seen my attitude. You may think you have, but you haven't. Think the Andy fiasco times oh, 300.)

I don't know how I could have been such a brat. I haven't seen my dad in 7 months, before that I hadn't seen him for 2 months, I saw him for a couple weeks this summer, but he was always working. I miss him like crazy. He misses us so much. But he loves us too much to give up on this. He never thinks of himself. If he can think of something to do for us, he does it without question, no matter how much work it takes him. He doesn't know it, but tomorrow my mother is flying into Denver to spend Thanksgiving with him.

I must admit, I am jealous of my mother. I wish I could see him. I wish I could give him a hug. I wish there was another way for him. I wish that I had seen this before I moved away. I wish that I could take back everything awful I said to him, even though I know he's forgotten it. I wish that it wasn't so cold for him. I wish I was there to cook him dinner and wash his clothes. I wish I had smiled more when I was younger instead of throwing tantrums because I couldn't have what I wanted (I didn't do this very often, but when I did...)

My father loves me. And I wish that I could show him how much I love and miss him.

TRADITION!!!

2007-11-18T23:51:00.000-05:00

I would guess that these last two months of the year are the two most filled with tradition: national traditions, local traditions, family traditions. But I have to wonder whether some traditions have not become routines.

I come from a family that values traditions. We've invented so many since I was little that I doubt I could count them. Traditions do not have to be ancient. This has really hit me since now a decent portion of our family is scattered across the country and since I now either don't take much part in the traditions, or I take part in them over the phone. More often than not, it's the former. It's a slightly weird feeling to be missing those traditions, like eating ice cream outside in the winter. That's just not really supposed to happen.

One thing that was stressed at the beginning of the sacraments and liturgy class is the human need for ritual; the need for something by which to order one's life; there are a multitude of examples of this in the natural world: the seasons, night and day, the cycles of the moon, and the orbits of the planets to name a few. This urge goes beyond the individual and flows into the societal. Societies also need something by which to order their lives; the ancient Egyptians ordered societal life by the flooding of the Nile. Traditions and rituals are not routines and shouldn't become so. Rituals and traditions are of a sacred character. Routines are for everyday life. The Nile was not just a river.

"There are a lot of bad isms in the world and commercialism is the worst!" While I don't think I necessarily agree with that statement (I'm inclined to think that maybe things like communism and socialism are a little worse), I can definitely see its validity. Communism and socialism wouldn't be so bad if not for commercialism. Commercialism certainly plays a part in communism and socialism.

Problems result when you allow your life to be commercialized. If you only take part in traditions because it’s what you’ve always done, or worse, it’s what everyone else does, then why do it? If traditions abound during this time of the year, then so does the secularization and routinization (so it’s not a word, yet) of traditions. Christmas carols, for example. Long ago, when Catholics ruled the world, there were rules for when what could be sung because of the special character of the liturgical year. (There still are, people are just ignorant and don’t care.) Puer Natus in Bethlehem (A child is born in Bethlehem) was not sung until Christmas. Not only that, but Christmas music was not about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Now, however, when you walk into any shopping center after November first or so, you will hear Christmas music being blasted over the sound system in an effort to “get you into the holiday spirit,” i.e., buy stuff. The carelessness with which such traditions are flung about gives them an ordinary, humdrum type of feeling. In fact, they can get old and annoying. A person can only take Jingle Bell Rock so many times a year. And if that person happens to be Lauren, well…

Five Novembers ago, it had not been a good year for my family. Within a month, my mother’s mother died, my father lost his job due to out-sourcing, and the Quince stuff was told. While my grandmother had been sick for a couple of years, her death was unexpected. She died peacefully in her sleep, with her caretakers there. She was only 61. There are not a lot of jobs here; it took a few months for my dad to find one. He finally did find one at a chicken processing plant keeping the freezers running. The Quince stuff led to a bunch of things with my father's mother that were just plain unpleasant, to put it lightly. In the time between, Dominic was born! Yay for babies! Especially brother babies! At the chicken plant, they sold chicken to the employees for next to nothing. So we had plenty of chicken. Freezers full, actually. That year, by the time Thanksgiving came around, we were sick of poultry. None of us wanted to eat turkey. We wanted steak. So, we made a fire pit, and cooked steak and sausage (brat-like sausage, not breakfast sausage) for Thanksgiving. We had whatever sides we wanted. And tons of desserts- everyone's favorite and possibly even everyone's second and third favorites. Any outsider would have looked at that mis-matched meal (because we had little boys, I'm sure half of the sides were random and didn't really match with anything) and laughed. Maybe pittied. We had no one over except my mother's brother. But it was the most memorable Thanksgiving I've ever had. It was simple, but it was everything we needed. We had each other and we had the material things for which we were most able to be thankful at that time. The little ones gave us laughter and my parents gave me anyway one of my most pleasant and treasured memories. I'm sure that when we are all grown up and gathered somewhere, this will be one of the "do you remember whens?" most fondly remembered.

That Thanksgiving was the first Thanksgiving that I ever really was more than usually unusually grateful. By that I mean, of course I had always been extra thankful on Thanksgiving, but it was more out of habit or training than by sheer gratitude. That Thanksgiving, as I ate some of favorite things on the planet and as I sat around the table just talking with my family, I was grateful. I didn't know it was possible to be so grateful. Before that Thanksgiving, I think that we all would have thought it absurd not to have the traditional turkey and sweet potatoes and whatever else it is that is proper to eat on Thanksgiving. But that Thanksgiving we realized, the turkey isn't the tradition.

And so, because of that Thanksgiving, while I am not diametrically oppossed to eating turkey on Thanksgiving (in fact, we are eating turkey this year), I have become more conscious of the difference between Thanksgiving traditions and Thanksgiving routines. As I am here at home, finally reunited with my little boyos (who really aren't that little anymore), getting them what they need, rocking them, reading to them, being read to by them, playing with them, cooking for and with them, cleaning with them, and being fought over by them, I've been reflecting on these things. Routines are not always fun, they most certainly are not freedom. They are the measuring stick or the straight edge which makes sure that nothing is out of place, that the world keeps running as planned without interruption.

The world is not run by a routine. Take a look at the sunset one day and look again at it the next. It is not the same. It's a different sunset everyday. The colors change, the shape of the clouds change, everything changes. Yes, it is ordered awesomeness, but it is awesomeness, nonetheless. Our lives should not become bleak routines. We should value the sacred, wonder at the little, everyday things, and never be bored by the repition which sometimes seems to be the norm. For repition and norm it is not. Look closely, you will find something you've never found before. When scrubbing the kitchen for aaalll those guests, perhaps the shiney-ness of the sink, which depiste your routine you seem to have neglected, will make you smile. Perhaps some small child will show you something you've seen before at least a million times, but this child will show you something you have missed, something that only a child's joy can explain. If traditions become routines, the only thing left for routines to become is a slave master. God did not intend for us to be slaves. Besides, we can't have more than one master. If we let the sacredness and the specialness of traditions slip away and become routines, we are in danger of letting the routine become our god.

So in the midst of the bustle and hustle that usually accompanies this time of the year, take time to remember why you are doing what you will inevitably find yourself doing out of habit, whether it be eating turkey or watching football or shopping on Friday. Find the reason for these things and then you will find that scrubbing the kitchen isn't so bad after all.

Back Where I Belong

2007-11-18T00:26:00.000-05:00

With my boyos. Life is good.

And I have a stove.

Being here makes me want to quit college and go work at a soup kitchen or an orphanage or a hospital or something. Somewhere where people need to be taken care of.

Have a really great Thanksgiving, everyone!

Reformation and Egocentrism

2007-10-10T12:55:00.000-05:00

One of Southern Catholic College's catch-phrases is "Are you bold enough to change the world?" I believe that it actually is "ARE YOU BOLD ENOUGH To CHANGE THE WORLD?" Reflecting upon the major world changing figures in history, even those in our lifetime, however, causes me to wonder: do they really want us to be bold?

I have absolutely no doubt that the school, in choosing a motto, thought of nothing but the positive connotations of the word "bold": courage and confidence. These are good qualities to have. But, as we discussed in Philosophy 101 last year, courage that is not controlled by the intellect and the will becomes rashness, not an admirable quality at all. Confidence without humility becomes pride, and a pride so inflamed that one can disregard the good of others and the good of society, the good of the world because of his own ideas, whether those ideas are true or not.

Take a look at some of the great reformists thoughout history: St. Patrick, St. Catherine of Siena, Niccolo Machievelli, King Henry VIII, Martin Luther, Leo XIII, Ghandi, Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Karl Marx, Mao Tse- Tung, Mother Teresa, John Paul II, Saddam Hussien, the list goes on. All of these people were bold. The difference is that some were humble.

Boldness without humility is worth nothing. Nothing will be done for the right reasons. No good can come out boldness that's not tempered by humility. I think that, second to musicians/performers, reformers may be the most inclined to have inflated egos, because once you take on a cause, it's hard not to caught up in that cause and forget the reason for the cause; the reason becomes the cause itself and not the good that will come from that cause. That's why the oversized "you" bothers me. Changing the world is not about me. It's not about my being bold or not so bold. It's about Truth and Goodness. But in order for Truth and Goodness to triumph, they first have to get over the "me" that is in the way; in order for that to happen, there must be true humilitly.

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

A Rant About Creepy Guys

2007-10-07T21:46:00.000-05:00

The world is full of them. I've known this since I was 7, when I had my first encounter with one. I'd always kind of hoped that that was the only one that I would really have to deal with. I knew I would run into some every now and then, but I had really hoped that they would all just kind of ignore me and leave me alone forever.

But the creepiest individual at SCC (at least, the creepiest student of last year and the creepiest individual this year- I'm not sure that the old librarian wouldn't give you a run for your money, dear, when it comes to creepiness- he was genuinely creepy, you are creepy by effort, although it is obvious that you are beginning to need to exert less and less effort) had other plans. I now have a log, as per Father's orders, of every time he does something creepy. I bet he does, too, but just because he revels in being a creep. Now there's something I wouldn't want to read...

I really wonder what his problem is. I feel kind of sorry for him. I mean, he's a lonely, miserable, wretched human being. Something was missing from his childhood, and it kind of seems like it was love. (See, girls! Look what happens if we don't be women) He told me enough of his life story that I know that much. Of course, he also has a dead beat dad. Now I just feel sorry for him. No person shouldn't grow up with a mother's love and a father's love. That's just sad.

That said, no person should dwell on their past so much that they cannot cope with the present. Scoffs, and well deserved scoffs, may result from that statement coming out of my brain, but at least I recognize that it is true.

This has ceased to be a rant. I fail at everything. Especially writing papers for philosophy.

Impressing the World

2007-10-04T22:51:00.001-05:00

It's a mighty sad thing when an institution that was founded to go against the the societal idea of "normal" for the sake of the Good, is found falling into that very idea of normality.

The Chapel was pretty full today. But it was not filled out of a completely voluntary self-bettering desire, it was filled because the Chancellor of the Archdiocese was here and he needed to be impressed. So the chapel was filled out of an excess of pride, rather than out of humility or even love. Is this pleasing? Is this even halfway good? It almost seems as if it would have been better if it had been filled out of obligation (if it had been made mandatory, which would still have been pride on the part of the school [unless daily Mass was always mandatory]), but it wouldn't have been pride on the part of every individual who came only because the Chancellor was here.

And it doesn't stop there...

The world and what it thinks should not be the standard, and most assuredly not the apex around which we operate. Truth should be the only thing we care about.

So What Does All That Mean?

2007-09-13T01:05:00.000-05:00

I suppose that the penultimate post ( I just like the alliteration...) really did leave a lot of room for questions. I guess the most common would be something like, "Ok, so women should act like women... so... how should women act?"

I have heard many people say that it is hard define femininity in the modern world. That especially now, since women are told they and can and should do everything, and are made to feel inferior if they don't, the definition of femininity has changed and we have yet to define it in concrete terms. I do not agree; femininity is femininity whether a woman works or stays at home to watch children- 1000 years ago or now. I think that it's the application of femininity that is hard to figure out. At what point do careers/pleasure/whatever get in the way of true femininity? How should women act like women?

Well, before acting, women should think. How a woman thinks determines how a woman acts; what a woman thinks it means to be a woman is the way in which she lives out - or does not live out- her femininity. A woman should think that she has dignity and worth simply because she is, not because of what she does. If a woman does not think this, she will not be able to act as a woman should. Femininity seems to me to be more a kind of state of mind than an act or series of acts. The state of mind is reflected in the actions. There are some women who are very good at balancing home life and work life, and others who aren't so good at it, and I think this has to do with the way a woman thinks about what it means to be a woman. If a woman thinks that in order to prove her value as a person she must compete against men- that her worth and dignity depend on what she achieves in a male dominated work world- then she must reject her femininity because it will get her in way.

The difference between men and women encompasses both the physical and psychological. It is an essential difference. A woman's essence is different than that of a man's. It follows, then that because of this essential difference, the ultimate purpose of men and women, though the same (to get to heaven) would be achieved in different ways. These differences are not so much that one sex is better than the other, as that one sex is nothing without the other. Men need women (Yes, J.C.) and women need to men in order to reach their full potential as human beings.

Humans are composite beings (matter and form- i.e. body and soul). Differences in form -the intellective soul, the part that deals with how a person reasons, thinks, and responds to the world- are expressed in the matter (the body). The differences in the matter are expressed in the form. This does not necessariraly mean that the physical and mental capabilities of one sex are better or superior than the other's, it means that they are different.

A woman's body is potentially capable of carrying a child and giving birth. This is reflected in her intellective soul. The way she thinks is dictated by the fact that she has the potential to be a mother. It is in the nature of a woman to be a mother. This does not mean she must have a child to be a woman, or even that she must actually be physically capable of motherhood. There are women who give up physical motherhood for the good of others and have been for thousands of years. This does not make them less womanly.

So feminity is the embracing of motherhood (whether one is a mother or not). It is realizing that this is why we think the way we do and not fighting against it.

A Response to a Response That I Recieved

2007-09-10T12:27:00.000-05:00

I shared the last post with a few people, just for criticism. I don't know why. I don't know.

The world is big and wide, and full of beliefs, with everyone
thinking they have
the 'ideal' way. There is no such thing. When I was
younger, I felt all
famillies were like my own also(thankfully they were
not, as my home life,
though supposidly solid Catholic was far from good).
People choose to live out
their lives like they want to do so. I do not feel
subsurvient to any man. If
you read the works of Austin or woman of her
period, woman were horribly
surpressed. They were thought of brainless
twits. They were stuck in loveless
marriages, while the husband had
countress concubines on the side. Woman, of
course, had no need for a sex
life. Re-read The Doll's House and see how woman
were really treated and
thought of in that era(by Ibsen).Dating is necessary.
How are you going to
know if you have the 'right' man if you don't see whats out
there. It also
teaches you social graces and how to look out for users or
jerks.Keep on
thinking...you have a good mind. Just allow it to open a see the
scope of
the world. You are in school, so see how others do things, and how they
live.When I was younger I did volunteer work in inner city Philadelphia. It
taught me alot, mostly it taught me how little I know. And guess what, I am
still learning. And each day I am challenged not to judge others, but to
accept
them and their ways

Ah, this bliss of arguing.

If there is no ideal way of life, then why bother? Why bother with kindness? Why bother with charity? Why bother with any morality at all? If there is no ideal way of life, why bother with any sort of religion, for is not Heaven a way of life? And would it not be the ideal way of life? And are there not actions that will get us to Heaven and actions that will bar us from Heaven?

Granted, here on earth, we can't really live the ideal life (a life in full communion with Christ), so we must strive live our lives following Him as closely as we can.

People do choose to live their lives as they please. It's a little thing called free will. A blessing and a curse. But just because someone chooses evil (a rejection of God, any size, a mean comment or anything) does not mean that evil is a good thing to choose. Nor does it mean that others must just accept the evil done and say "well that's just the way that so and so chooses to live his life." Again, if that's the case, why bother?
I have read the works of Jane Austen. The women who were thought of as twits generally were. The womenly women were not thought of as twits. When a man's wife was womanly, he didn't cheat on her. My point was not that this didn't happen, but that women should act like women, because look what happens if they don't. I remember reading "The Doll House." Unfortunately, it was a while ago and I don't remember the plot. I do remember that most of Ibsen's works (the ones I have read) were not exactly great representations of every day life. They seemed to be extraordinary circumstances.
Dating, oh dating... Of course dating is necessary. I did not say that it wasn't. I said that it is not something to play around with. Why would you date a guy that you are not attracted to? Especially if that guy really is attraced to you. That's just playing with someone's emotions and isn't fair or kind to them. I'm not going to hook up with some random guy just for the sake of dating. I would most definitely date someone to whom I was attracted. I'm not going to date someone that I don't know. The point of dating is not to get to know someone-that's what friendship is for- but get to know them in a deeper, more intimate way. I don't think that dating anyone who will date you is a very good way to find "the right guy." It actually seems like a disaster waiting to happen. I would have to respect "the right guy" and I expect him to respect me. I think I can tell whether a guy is a jerk without dating him. And, really, why would I want to date a guy to find out if he's a jerk? Seems a bit pointless to me. Seems a bit counterproductive, as well. I think I'll find out if he's a jerk first.
Seeing what others do and doing what others do are two very different things. If I see the results of something are bad, why would I imitate? If I see the results of something are good, why wouldn't I imitate. The point of an open mind is to find something around which to close it (I can't remember who I am paraphrasing- I think it's Chesterton). A consistently open mind is almost synonomous with an empty one. (Which is why I absolutely what that sign in the hallway that says "the point of education is to replace an empty mind with an open one" - it is NOT!- *end random rant). We are called not to judge the state of people's souls. We are not told that we should not judge whether an action is wrong or right, regardless of whether the actor considers it wrong or right. We are not to be pretentious about it, but we are not to accept everything as it comes.

A Conglomeration of Thoughts from this Summer and This Month

2007-09-04T09:23:00.000-05:00

Most people who read this already know that my summer job was ironing clothes for a family of eight. This summer, I also read Home Comforts: the Art and Science of Keeping House (interestingly enough, written by a philosophy professor at Columbia) and Orthodoxy. So having read this, having been brought up in the Catholic faith, having been taught that women's roles differ from men's yet are both equal in dignity, observing the ways in which my employer family interacted with each other, and standing solitarily in a laundry room for hours upon hours (ten or more hours a day sometimes), being paid to play with children and teach other women how to bake, my head was left in a mess of thoughts which have been bubbling around in my brain which has been too busy to give them enough time yet.

When I came back to school, I was met with happy faces and lovely people who knew "the perfect guy" (who turned out NOT to be so) to set me up with! Yay! NOOOOOOOO!!!! As much as I am unopposed to the idea being dated and eventually married, I am dreadfully opposed to the idea of hooking up with someone just because no one is dating me now. Dating is not a game or an experiment; I am not a toy or an object (neither is any man). As I said in discussion with someone who said that dating is overrated, quite the opposite is true: dating is horrridly under-rated. Dating should not be thought of as a social activity, but as a step on the road to holiness- one that should be tread carefully and willfully, not playfully and at whim. SO, with this added to the last paragraph, my head has been absolutely full of thoughts to the point of explosion, I think- to the point of forgetting that I have paper for which I have yet to read due, anyway. For all of my loudness, quite a bit of my thoughts never come out audibly.

I have read a lot of 19th century American literature written by women (Alcott, Montgomery, Lovelace...) and I have been reading it since I was ten. Every girl should read this stuff. The role of a woman was clearly and intellectually defined- in no way was she ruled or lorded over by her husband; she was his helper and he was her support. She wasn't supressed or uneducated- even women who had never been to school had common sense and wit. Mrs Baehr (my hero- Jo March from Little Women - she married professor Baehr) ran a school, wrote books, and founded a college all while raising 10 boys and 2 girls and running her household. Of course, her household did include a couple of maids, but she ran the household and she did most of the work. A woman's role was not only clearly defined, but unquestionably held in high esteem. Especially (and I see this now, looking back; it wasn't quite so clear when reading it before I knew that I was looking for role models) the role of a married woman- of a wife and a mother.

This was only the foundation (not even really foundation, but it was indeed a big help for me) of my understanding of womanhood. What really set this in stone was watching my own mother. Well, being apprenticed to my mother... By the time I was ten, my mother had taught me enough that I could cook dinner, clean it up, do laundry, mop floors, clean bathrooms, and take care of babies (now I was ten, so I couldn't take care of babies like I can now, but I knew enough to be a "second mother" when Daniel was born). By the time I was twelve, I was cooking dinner regularly and by the time I was fourteen, I was pretty much in charge of dinner. I was a lucky little girl. I came to this conclusion over the summer while giving a "bread making seminar" and being asked by an eight year old (or maybe it was the six year old) "you mean, you can make bread?"

Going from my family to my employer family was a huge shock. I knew that women do not all care for their homes the same way and that some don't even care for them, but I had never lived in a household where just common sense housekeeping was absent. The woman fed her animals (of which she had plenty, something like 8 dogs and 4 cats) a raw diet. She would take the meat out of the freezer, leave it on the cutting board while she prepared dinner (so it was there a few hours), after chopping the meat, she would rinse the cutting board off and cut vegetables on it. I realized that most of the things that I took for granted that everyone just sort of knew were apparently not so well known: things like not leaving a sippee cup full of milk in the sink overnight because it will sour and smell bad and if it gets in the plug thingy can make baby sick; things like how to wash dishes (not with cold water...); how to hold a spatula while stirring batter; the simple fact that bread can be made at home; how to creatively make an entirely different meal out of leftovers instead of serving the same thing two or three times a week.

I was hired to iron clothes. The family consists of of the parents, a 16 year old girl, 15 year old boy, and 8 year old boy, and little girls aged 6, 4, and 2. The 16 year old girl was completely lost when it came to housework. She had never been taught to do laundry, wash dishes, or cook, and despite having four young siblings, she had no clue how to interact with little kids. I never once saw her hug her little siblings- only reprimand them.

As I stood in the laundry room amidst piles of clothes day after day after day, I remembered my old friends with worn covers. I remembered how the women would teach thier daughters that the mundane work (which was a lot more mundane in the 1800's) was a labor of love, beneficial to to the lover and the loved (whether this be son or husband, daughter or mother, sibling or friend). All of this was reaffirmed by reading Home Comforts in which Mrs. Mendelson not only explains the technical and practical things about housekeeping, but the reason why: out of love; love for yourself, and your spouse and your kids (if you have those things...).

John Paul II wrote that God has entrusted the world to women in a very special way because our femininity. Women are the nuturers of the moral and physical well being of society (so are men but in a very different- women are responsible for making the men responsible...). The old and over-used but very true saying that "behind every good man is a good woman" demonstrates the need for women to be women. I hear women complain about how guys act all the time. Perhaps if more women acted like women should (which does NOT mean a bare-foot and pregnant houswife), then more men would act like men should.

Perhaps this makes a little bit of sense. Perhaps I'm just rambling and confused and tired. Perhaps Dr. Hartmann is right and my biggest aspiration in life is to be a charwoman.

Things I Have Learned From My Brothers

2007-08-18T02:54:00.001-05:00

That pyromaniacy starts with candles.

That ‘family sized’ means “there’s a whooole heap of them”

“We have here two legs, two wings and two thighs.” “Um…Cat… What you have is a hollow chicken.”

Awesomeness is measured by the volume of your belch. Or how much you know about trucks. Or demolition. Or how much you can eat. Or how many mouth noises you can make.

On the other hand, (and this is why it’s great to be a girl) awesomeness is measured by how good dinner was and how big a hug a boy can get after scaring the life out of you. Or by the fact that you can fix a favorite shirt. Or because you can pick up a ten year old, who in turn, can pick you up.

Success is measured by how dirty you are at the end of the day.

“The ancient Egyptians didn’t use the bathroom!” Oh, but they did. If you’re human, you use the bathroom….” Well, they didn’t have toilets. How do you use the bathroom without a toilet?” (Of course, they had flushable toilets, but he’s 4)

Never is only about 3.2 seconds.

Forever is only about 2.6 seconds.

Irish drinking songs are the best for car rides. It sure beats singing “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” with someone who can’t count.

There’s nothing better than watching a four foot construction fall to the ground with a crash.

There’s nothing worse than watching a four foot construction fall to the ground with a crash.

Humour is defined by how hard the other guy hits the ground.

Who needs discretion when you have an ER?

Reasonable is questionable.

Never think first. That will only stop you. You will never find out if umbrellas can really carry you gently to the ground from the roof if you first ask yourself “is this dangerous?” or “would Mom approve?” Always remember: it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission. Especially when dealing with women.

It’s always lunchtime. (Indeed, it is!)

If you run into a wall accidentally, the best thing to do is to run into to it again.

“Push Dom, and Dan falls”

Crystal Clear Confusion and a History of me That Isn't Mine at All... What to do next?

2007-08-12T21:25:00.000-05:00

Six years ago, my sisters and I needed Music/Art credit for high school. I know the most about music in my family (which isn't saying much) so just thinking about how we were going to get that credit made my mother cringe. My mother's friend, Mr. Mark, for future reference, has a Ph.D. in Medieval Liturgy (and a couple of other things) and had wanted to start a Children's Schola for a while. So he did. And we got our credit.

The choir was a God-send to me. Quite literally, though I had no clue of that at the time. It gave me an outlet which was desperately needed and a foundation which I didn't even know was being built. I had always loved music. That I loved chant was no surprise to me, probably not to anyone else either for that matter. I had been singing in the choir at Mass since I was 6 or 7. Hmm. In retrospect, that in general, is probably not a good idea (especially since the choir sat to the side of the altar, not in a loft) but I think it was good thing for me. Maybe that sounds high strung or concieted; it isn't meant to, but children should probably not be allowed to do that- I was - it was a good thing for me. I wouldn't let my kid do that. But now the history and theory of chant was being explained to me and it made me love it even more.

We were taken to a Chant conference in Auburn, AL (the same one I took people to in Feb.) where I met Dr. William Mahrt, professor of Music History at Stanford; Mr. Scott Turkington, Choir Master and Organist for St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church in (Jill, I love you) Stamford, Conneticut- the man has his own Wikipedia entry http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Turkington - Mr. Jeffery Tucker and Mrs. Arlene Oost-Zinner from Auburn ( http://www.ceciliaschola.org/ ).

On an impulse, I applied to Southern Catholic College. On an impulse, I applied for a music fellowship- mainly chant, because that's what I know best. Impulsiveness... not a great thing- but God uses all things and He definitely used that. As soon as I sent off the package, I realized what I had done. I regretted it. I got the acceptance letter. I visited the school.

At the end of February, I went to Auburn for the annual conferrence. On the second day, my mother called me and told me that the fellowship letter had come. I had gotten it. My first thought was "oh dear. what have I gotten my impulsive self into now? I am such an idiot." My second thought was "Well, there's not a better place I could have found out..." I managed to catch Mr. Turkington and speak to him for a minute to ask his advice. He, of course, was very excited and made a big deal out of it. He gave me the Graduale Romanum, a book I had been wanting for ages and costs in between $50 and $60 but has to ship from France. He gave me many good tips and lots of encouragement- which I really needed. He also told me about a program at Catholic U that I should go to.

The course at Catholic U was too expensive for me. I emailed the professor to see if scholarships were offered and he told me that he would pay for me to take it. I just needed to get there and find a place to stay. My mother's friend's best friend lives in D.C. She arranged it so that I could stay with her. Somehow, and I have no idea how, I managed to come up with enough money to get there. So I went to D.C. for a three week summer intensive course in Gregorian chant pedagogy, where I learned an incredibly amazing amount of things, thanks to Fr. Skeris. The final was conducting a peice for a Mass in the crypt of the Basillica. Just a small, private Mass, but by the end, there were probably 100 or more people gathered around to hear it.

While I was in D.C., met even more people and ran into people I knew already- Mr. Turkington, who was teaching another class there; and Mrs. Oost-Zinner, who was in my class (kind of interesting: there were nine people in my class and three were from Alabama).

This summer, I honestly thought I was not going to be able to afford to go back to SCC. No, I WAS not going to be able to afford to go back. But Dr. Combee- God bless him!- fixed that. The problem was not paying- the problem was loans. I do not want to come out with more than the $5000 debt that I already have. I would much rather take a semester off and work than take more loans. I'm majoring in Literature and Theology and- this sounds kind of silly- but really, I've never actually wanted to do anything except be a mom and study. I like studying. I can see myself in school for a while. And so can lots of people who know me. But since I am a girl, and there is a possibility that I could get married and become a stay at home mom, I just don't think it's a good idea to take loans. Plus, even if I don't get married, I don't think it's a good idea to take loans. Nothing I have any interest in pays enough to justify that; they barely pay enough to survive. So Dr. Combee made it where I pay more than I did last year, but have no loans(he was actually going to give me loans, but I didn't take them). Then I realized that last semester, I was working 17 hours a week- not ten- and had not thought about that when saying I could pay that much. I was really kind of upset and worried about it. Then Mrs. Debell called. And I'll be working 19 hours a week, plus minimum wage went up.

That things have so providentially worked out for me is scary. Very scary. When I was kid and even still now sometimes, things just never worked out. I just stopped hoping for things, eventually. I never once this summer hoped. I didn't give up, but I didn't expect or hope that things would work out. And then I get this? It's like ... I deserve a slap and get a kiss. Then, of course, there is the whole Luke 12:48 thing. What's expected of me? What if I fail? I received an email the other day: "The Lord places us and points in directions which he knows are best for us....Please remember that you are a part of a community of musicians and other churchmen who are committed to a restoration of the liturgy in our time, and that you may call on us when you are in need of help, advice or just a friendly voice." They consider me one of them. How very intimidating. These people have known and studied Chant for years, under the most impressive teachers: Dr. Marier, The choirmasters of Solesmes, the list goes on. And they think that I am an able and promising Church musician? (So they have said). I am overwhelmed when I think of this. I'm just an 18 year old college student with not a lot of musical training. I know I've been given this training that I have, these people that I know, and the experiences I've had for a reason, and yet I have no idea what it is.

SO... I made Pizza and have no One to Eat it with...

2007-07-28T16:53:00.001-05:00

Anyone want to eat with me?

"Lightening Is One of Nature's Deadliest Killers"

2007-07-24T19:13:00.000-05:00

I don't think that has anything at all to do with anything in this post. The weatherman said that tonight on the news and it amused me- probably more than it should. I'm sooooooo bored and isolated!

A List Of Things That We Need To Do Next Semester

Watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail
Watch Second Hand Lions
Watch the Rest of the Stars Wars Movies
Find Out if ChezWhiz Does or Does Not Come Out of a Turkey Baster
Speaking of that, we should also find an oven that we (I) can use occasionally...
Jump in the Pool Again
Feed the Mutant Fish a Basketball
Go to Amicalola Falls
Have a Flour Fight
Have a Waterballoon Fight
Have a Flour Fight and Waterballoon Fight Simultaneously
Have a Picnic on a Public Elevator

I know there are more things.

The Importance of Beautiful Music

2007-06-10T22:31:00.000-05:00

Preface
This started out as a rant and became an essay. It is quite obvious that music is my first love. I am leaving the ranting part in mostly because I am having a hard time trying to rewrite it into essay form. It does make sense, I think. I will explain my outrage at cantors, though.

This post was inspired by the Mass I went to Sunday. There was no cantor. There was no choir. Until the offertory, there was no organist. This was an improvement. Normally, at this Mass, there is a cantor. A female cantor who can sing loudly, very loudly. I feel bad saying it, but she doesn't sing well at all. In fact, I have heard conversations between parishioners who have said that her singing is distracting it's so bad. Sometimes, she harmonizes during the responsorial psalm. It just sounds awful. They seem to think it is beautiful. Sometimes, the choir tries to perform polyphonic pieces, but because of the size of the choir (about 6 or 7 maybe) and the ability of the choir, it does not sound good either. I'm not sure if it's the cantor or the choir, but for some reason, most of the people in the pews do not sing. This Sunday, however, when all we had was the organ, the congregation sang. And sang well. I also noticed that it is not because they don't know the music that they don't sing. They sang the music that they knew, not the music that was written in the hymnal. (The hymn was “Hail Redeemer King Divine.” The hymnal producers had changed some of the music due to copy right laws.) I also think that besides being unnecessary for the most part, cantors tend to think of the Mass as their performance, not as a prayer.

SO, enjoy!

I don't know whether it's more the arms waving or the vibrato booming over the sound system, but you, my dear cantor, are intimidating. And, for the most part, unneeded. There is only one time that I can think of during the entire Mass (if English is the only language being used) that you are doing something useful; and, unfortunately (for you, that is, anyway), even then, there is a way around you.

You see, there is this novel idea of a choir: a group of people, who have some musical talent, who sing (from the back of the church, preferably), so that the congregation can follow. (*Please note that there is in an "in most cases" application of this argument; sometimes, the congregation should not be lead in singing, but the singing of the choir should lead them to pray silently. The Mass is the prayer of Church; hymns are prayers; when the congregation does sing them, they are praying; when the choir is singing a sixteenth century polyphonic [translated literally as "many sounds;" usually soprano, alto, tenor, and bass- every voice sings a different part and through the laws of harmony and dissonance, an awesome {in the most literal sense of the word} piece of music is created] piece, and the congregation listens, they are still praying. However, not every choir is able to pull such polyphony off. Though it is not as difficult as one would think, it does require time; and since most parish choir members are volunteers, it difficult to even get one hour of practice a week. It also requires musical ability [read: people who can sing decently, not even the ability to read music]. I can personally attest to the fact that polyphonic music can be done by amatures [look at me] and children. Children? Yes. Ordinary children with no knowledge of music. But, as I said, the volunteer status of the average parish choir is quite an obstacle for this type of music.)

No embellishment is better than too much embellishment. Too much embellishment looks foolish; none looks practical. No embellishment is not synonymous with "ugly". Something can be plain and beautiful at the same time. In fact, the very first music of the Church was simple. But beautiful. Some of it is still used today; partly, because it is beautiful; partly, because it is simple.

This doesn't mean embellishment is bad. It simply means that when embellishing, one should use discretion. It would be silly for a woman to embroider a perfectly lovely wedding gown using colored yarn because she has no embroidery thread . Likewise, it would be silly for her to spend hours upon hours embroidering a cloth that is going to be used as a grease rag.

Just because a choir can sing polyphony well, does not meant that they should sing polyphony for everything. Sometimes only simple things are needed or fitting. Sometimes, no embellishment is a reminder of what is happening in the Liturgy. And just because because polyphonic music would be proper or preferable for certain parts of the Mass, a choir should not use it if it is beyond their capabilities. There are other ways to create a lovely sound that, while not as magnificent, is just as fitting. There is really only one aesthetic requirement that music at Mass must meet: that it be beautiful. This is because, as Pope Benedict XVI says, beauty “enables us to experience the presence of God.”

Here one may say "but beauty is subjective." I answer: not quite. Beauty is defined as by Webster's dictionary as "the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit." Yet again one might say, “what exalts individual minds or spirits is subjective.” I answer: not true.

That which is the highest Good is God. The ultimate goal of every man is (or should be) to reach the greatest Good. Man cannot reach Good without goodness; man's spirit cannot be lifted to the highest Good by something that is not good. Because of the nature of “good” something cannot be good and not lift man's spirit to God, even if man does not realize that his spirit is being lifted. This is why beauty is not subjective. But, because of sin, beauty can be perverted but still seem beautiful. A prime example of this is human sexuality. I am not saying that human sexuality is beauty perverted. Human sexuality is wondrously beautiful when it is not used in a perverted fashion. It fulfills the requirement of lifting the soul to God. But when a man (or a woman) uses his sexuality in any way other than that which was intended, it no longer lifts his soul; in fact, it drags his soul away from God, yet, it still can be mistakenly perceived as good.

The same is true of music. St. Augustine said, “Music, that is the science or the sense of proper modulation, is likewise given by God's generosity to mortals having rational souls in order to lead them to higher things." Beautiful music lifts the soul to God. Here I could go on for pages about how some music is not beautiful and does not lift man's soul. In fact, I have done so before (in a paper for Dr. Urbanczyk) but it is not immediately pertinent to this, so I will resist the temptation. You have been spared.

Since the Mass is the highest form of worship, should an effort not be made by musicians (whether they have been trained or not) to provide the most beautiful music they can? And since beauty is not entirely subjective, should they not make an effort to train themselves (and others) to be able to determine whether music is beautiful or not?

Music at Mass should not be haphazardly put together. Music at Mass should not be chosen on the basis of “I like this” but on the basis of how beautiful it is. This analysis is not based solely on the composition of the music, but also on the lyrics, the composition and the lyrics combined (a song of exultation should not sound like a dirge), and the presentation. While musicians should most certainly not think of the Mass as their performance, they should be aware of the sound of their music and able to judge whether or not it is beautiful. A choir should not present music that is not as beautiful as they can make it. Or music that they cannot make beautifully. Beautifully does not mean perfectly. But it does mean that careful attention has to be paid so that it does not sound ugly.

Music that is not beautiful detracts from the grandeur of the Mass. If music is detracting from the grandeur of the Mass then it is ineffective, and sometimes, deleterious to the soul.

2007-06-04T23:06:00.001-05:00

'The Time Has Come', The Walrus Said, 'to Talk of Many Things; of Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax, of Cabbages and Kings, of why the Sea is Boiling Hot and Whether Pigs Have Wings'

I'm going to warn you all right now: there are no segues in this post. It's a bunch of random stories that I would tell you if I could followed by my random thoughts. I did spend about ten minutes trying to think of some segues but I couldn't. And you know if I can't, then are most certainly not any.

The other day, Dominic, 4, came to me and said "I need to tell you my dream but you have to promise not to tell anyone" (He has since released me from this). Poor little fellow. He had a dream that he was being chased by the devil. But then all of a sudden, the Waltons came out of nowhere with real, working life savers (light sabers) and chased the devil away. Funny the things little kids think of when they are asleep.

The other day at WalMart, (which, our new one looks exactly like the one in Dawsonville. I go there and I don't feel like I'm in Alabama anymore. I always expect to run into people from school and instead, run into people from my childhood. Most of the time, I am extremely disappointed.) Anyway, I was really thirsty, so Carolynne and I went to go get some waters. I wanted at least three because there were five of us. I was plannning on getting five but... The (cheapest) machine that I wanted to use didn't take dollars and that was all I had, so I put my money into one machine to get the change. After I got the change, I put 50 cents in and pressed the button.Nothing happened. All of the buttons, succesively, still nothing. I pressed the coin return button. Nothing. So I banged the side of it. Way harder than I thought I had. Just as the WalMart greeter lady was walking by. Recived evil looks from her. I was so thirsty, though, that I was by now, willing to pay 65 cents more for the same amount of water. So I bought two and put the third dollar in. SOLD OUT flashed across the little screen. I hit the coin return button and heard clink clink clink clink but saw nothing. What would you do at this point? I knelt down and looked in the slot, saw my money, stuck my finger in to let it loose and out came six or seven dollars worth of quaters. SO i took it the greeter and held up both of my hands (one full of quaters, the other with four in it) and said "the machine gave me way too much change"
"oh, ok, how much too much?"
"this much"
OH, well let me take it to the service desk
well there's still more in the machine
oh, really?
yes, see? (by this time, we had walked to the machine and I had knelt down and unloosed about five more dollars worth)
well, thank you, I'll let the service desk know about this. did you loose your money in the Sam's machine?
well, yes
how much?
fifty cents
you should go see the service desk
oh, no, it's not that big of a deal
no, you really should, they give you your money back
but by this time, I had spent at least five minutes at the drink machines, more time than I had spent in the store, and there were people waiting in the car for us. The lady, while trying to convince us to go to the service desk, had leaned her hand gently on the Sam's machine and as we started to walk away we heard BALUMP clink clink. The Sam's machine spit out my water. AND my change. I felt like I was in an Aesop's Fable.

The other day, someone knocked on our door, using the knocker. RC is the only person in the history of our living here who has ever used that. We were expecting him, so when the knocker knocked, my younger two sisters yelled "YOU CAN NEVER COME HERE AGAIN!" and "GO AWAY< WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" while they opened the door. There stood an aunt we hadn't seen in oh, five years and my grandmother. Boy were they surprised.

My dad is now in Nebraska. I think he likes it. I talked to the financial aid people. You know, I think the word "aid" should be removed from their title. Financial Status people would be more fitting.

A Lesson in Southern Speak Because I Miss English

2007-05-22T21:56:00.000-05:00

"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.

2007-05-20T22:47:00.001-05:00

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

2007-05-13T01:04:00.000-05:00

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"?

2007-05-09T22:27:00.000-05:00

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...

Just Things

2007-04-02T13:38:00.000-05:00

More appropriately, Simply Things or perhaps even Random Things since this has absolutely nothing to do with things have the virtue of justice. Just... things.

I think I upset my mother today. It's kind of hard to tell through text. Curses upon rude guys in trains! The only sane person where we live (my mother's best friend) may be moving to Michigan. So it'll be pretty lonely for my mother if they do (the family). It's a sad thing when Christians stop acting like Christians. Perhaps that's a confusing statement given that you don't know the context, but it's a long story. So it's not a happy thought that they'd be moving away. She said something along the lines of being really selfish for not wanting that to happen. I said that I hope it isn't because I'm pretty much in the same boat, only mine is more of an everyone else will be here and I'll be stuck in Alabama. I told her that I might go talk to Combee or Ashcroft (I'm leaning more towards Combee, other people have said Ashcroft) and she got upset. I think it bothers her that I would HAVE to stay there. And that she can't help me out anymore than she is (which is a lot, especially considering all circumstances). It would be pretty heartless of me to come, though, if I don't get more aid. I don't want to stay there. Anyway, it made sad that it upsets her that much. She'll barely talk to me about it except to say that I shouldn't be worrying about it and to concentrate on my work. I'm NOT worried about it. Sad, yes (especially since there is no Fall Break next semester). Worried, no. Whatever happens happens. Not to sound... whiny? but, I'm pretty used to having things not work out the way I want them to (and I have been way more homesick than I ever have been [considering that I've NEVER been homesick] and there has to be a reason for that...). Anyway, I'm sure you guys are tired of hearing about this so I'll try and refrain from bringing it up again. But it is kind of difficult.

On to better, brighter things.

My brother is going to have his First Communion on May 6th! This is my Danny-Boy so I'll get to be there, which makes me happy. I miss him and Carolynne a lot. I think that when I go home, Carolynne and I are going to live in the house that our family doesn't live in. It was built in the 30's and is about 20square feet. Ok so that's exaggerating in the opposite way that exaggeration normally implies. But it is pretty small. We were using it as a screen printing shop but we're going to fix it up to where it's live-able and She and I are going to live in it. With Isadora. The hamster.

Did I tell any of you that we got a hamster? Apparently, we did. I'm told it's cute. Speaking of cute, I'm still waiting for them to send me pictures of the duck that speaks goose. Whose name is not Chick or Fritter. It's Flip. and the other's name was Twitter. But Dominic got mixed up when he was telling me. Speaking of Dominic, did I ever tell you guys that at one point, he had 16 different nick names? Everyone called him something different and he answered to all of them. IF the right person called him the right name. It was insane. I'm surprised he didn't have some sort of identity crisis. He enjoyed it, though.

David is going to be 10 on Saturday! It's hard to believe. He's almost as tall as I am though. I think he comes up to my ears. He's going to be one big guy.

Time for class.

Ah, yes

2007-03-23T12:57:00.000-05:00

Today, I had lunch with Dr. Urbanczyk! And Dr. Bruce, but he doesn't get an exclamation point. Although, I think he no longer doesn't like me and I have decided that I like him, but not his oddities. Emily Looney thinks I'm absolutely crazy. (That actually wasn't random, believe it or not; she ate lunch with us) I can't deny it. But she is, too.

ANYWHOO...
You missed it, Brian. We totaly got Dr. Urbanczyk off on a tangent about Wal-Mart. It was great. But then we were reading the little thingamabobbers on the table- the activity thingy- and on it, it says "Bettie Seller's John Kay" and Anthony asked one of them who that was and Dr. Bruce was telling us that they are colleagues and coming to speak about a Georgian poet-laureate (did I get that right?). At which point I said "Oh! There's not supposed to be an apostrophe there and there should be a comma between them. I thought it was a novel she'd written or something." And neither of the Doctors had realized that. So Dr. Bruce said "Yes, she's a ventriloquist and John Kay is her dummie's name" So he and Dr. Urbanzcyk (and all of us) laughed about it for a little while until Dr. Bruce said "Yes, I have to introduce them. I've been wondering how I was going to do that. I think that's how I should". Dr. Urbanczyk thought this was hilarious. I thought it was pretty funny, too. I was like "that would be great" and Dr. Urbanczyk said "Yes, that would be highly entertaining."

Dr. Bruce was pretty funny today in class. I felt bad that I had to leave so many times. I felt bad for the person sitting next to me as well...

I thought I was going to die this morning. I seriously could not breathe. It's really fun to wake up at 4 am unable to breathe. You should all try it one day. I highly reccommend it. Most fun I've had in years.

O.k. that was really lame, but hey, what do you expect from me? I'm tired, anyway. Let me submit to you that tiredness isn't great for writing intelligible things. Just ask Dan. I don't want to go class. I think I might fall asleep. Why am I so tired. I'm confused. But tomorrow's Saturday. I don't think I've eaten an actual meal all week. Just salads. Why won't they make Chicken Parmagan? I miss eating meat. Sorry Amy. But meat is good.

2007-03-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

(PLEASE DON'T READ THIS, JILL, YOU WILL NOT BE HAPPY AT ME)

Spring Break is almost over and I'm not entirely ready to return. I miss you guys, but I am actually liking being here. That's new feeling. I honestly don't think I've been happy to be here in nine years. I'm absolutely serious about that (yeah, i know i'm only 18, but that is a carefully thought about statement and I'm pretty sure it's accurate). I've been saying that i was ready to get out of this hell of a town (well sort of a town...) for at least five years. So I guess it's nice to just enjoy being here.

This week certainly calmed some of my fears about my extended summer. I'm almost positive that this will happen and the funny thing is, I'm really not that depressed about it any more. Certainly, I'll miss school like crazy. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you guys. And that thought is depressing. Very depressing. More than depressing, but I don't know the right word for it. But I'm not depressed about having to spend seven months here anymore. I'm sure that I won't like it. I know it'll be exteremly difficult come the end of August when my sister goes back to Ave and I stay here missing you guys, missing the classes, missing Thursday nights at the Crimson Moon and late night trips to Casa de Waffle, dinners that last an hour and half, bread wars, dancing elephants, Dan playing guitar, laughing in sync with Jill and Lauren, staying in Villa three watching movies until 3am, missing Dr. U's "frigginfragginfrugginfrick" outbursts (thanks, Brian), Dr. Hartmann being Dr. Hartmann, and everything else that I could possibly miss. But, I don't know, somehow this week I've come to peace with the fact that I might be here for a while. I'll have work and, who knows, I might take a few classes at the community college.

I think that I can do this.

See you guys tomorrow night. Well, for most you, I think it's later on today now.

Kids say the darndest things

2007-03-14T21:36:00.000-05:00

They really do.

"Can I have a waffle, Cat? My sugar's low."

"Mom, can I get out of the car?" "No, wait here, I'll just be a minute" "But, Mom, I need to exercise!"

"Why do they call them cheeseboogers?"

"We can't sing that song Cat, it has the 'a' word in it!"
"What??"
"Alleluia"

"What if God tells me to be a priest?"
-"Well, Dom, I guess you'll be a priest."
"No I won't. I'll run away"
-"Like Jonah?"
"Yeah, just like Jonah"
-"What if you get swallowed by a whale?"
"Well, I won't be a priest, then 'cuz I'll be dead!"

Isn't this just Loverly?

2007-03-13T22:57:00.000-05:00

For some reason the 'Loverly' song from My Fair Lady is Stuck in my head and I'm really happy so it just kind of came out in a song. I've never been this happy to be home. Little kids to take care of, floors to mop, food to cook, laundry to wash, people with colds to look after (not that I wish them sickness...). The only not so grand thing has been the doctor to visit. And by the way, though this comes as no surpirse to any of you, I'm sure, I have been officially diagnosed with asthma and been given perscription drugs to treat it. Maybe (hopefully) you won't have to put up with me hacking in class so much anymore. Hartmann will just have to find something else to tease me about. Shouldn't be too hard...

But back to my wonderful week and the conclusions that it has led me to come to. I have to start at Saturday night at Mass. My four year old brother wanted to sit next to me. After the homily, he decides that he's tired of behaving. I gently tell him "Dommy, stop making noises". He does. For a little while. Then he doesn't want to stand. I pick him up off the pew and set him on his feet. He promptly collapses at my feet (how he managed to not hit his head, I can't figure out. Obviously, he's pretty practiced at this...). Great. I have to leave him. I'm not Mom. He knows that this will cause a scene and Mom is in different pew because, well, there were eight of us and the church was full. Eventually, he slithers onto the pew. Now, it's time for the offertory. He does something really naughty (can't remember what it was) and I told him stop. At this point, he scoots over to my sister, Carolynne and burries his head in her arm. He's really pouting. We're not amused. Until he pops up, looks at my sister, gives her a thumbs up and dashing smile, looks at me, then gives me a thumbs down and the most spoiled rotten youngest child frown he can. Now we're trying really hard not to laugh at him. So we ignore him until the Sanctus when he refuses to kneel. We can't let him just get away with it; it's a spoiled, willful thing and needs to be curbed. So we each grab one arm and hold him up. This really does not make him happy. He squirms. We are forced to let go or he'll scream. (This really is making him sound like a brat. He isn't. He just has sever youngest child syndrome. Yes, Jill. There's a youngest child syndrome. I don't care if you think there isn't. It's probably only because you're a youngest that you can't reconcile yourself to that fact.) So this continues until the sign of peace. When it heightens. The lady who was sitting in front of us (looked JUST like Wanda on Wishbone, only she had blonde hair) patted his hand (because he refused to shake anyone's hand) and he huffed and then wiped his hand off with his other hand while shooting the lady a "please die now" look. Luckily, she was paying no attention whatsoever to him. Ha, Dominic!, someone who ignores you with no trouble at all!! The consecration is his favorite part, so we had no trouble with him then. But afterwards, he started freaking out. “I need Mom, I need Mom” poor guy, he had a cold and now a fever.

On Sunday, my siblings had plans to spend the day at Aunt Holly's and Uncle Frank's. (Aunt Holly and Uncle Frank are on a cruise [so I won't see them :(] and they have a lot of animal that my sister is taking care of for them. They also have a pond. And we have a canoe type boat. [I haven't actually seen it in about oh, 5 or 6 years] My brothers love to fish and have just discovered how to row. And they are learning about the Amazons. And my sister is a writer so she's really good creatively. So, they are some sort of ship crew stranded on some Island or something somewhere. They have a ship's log and everything. It's all very interesting.) Anyway, Mom was doing taxes and I opted to stay home with her and come later. So I spent the entire day (I knew that we really weren't ever going to actually make it over to Aunt Holly's) in the kitchen. Scrubbing. Everything: counters, appliances, and floors. I forget who was there (or not there) when I had the “I miss mopping floors” moment. I know Derek was. He was the only guy there, poor thing. Anywhoo, I finally got to mop the floor. After I cleaned, I cooked! And then the siblings cleaned up dinner. While i was waiting for the others to come home, I flipped through the channels and what did I find but Wishbone. Hadn't seen that in years. And how many times have i had dinner conversations about it? (A lot) And in Villa 3.

Monday absolutely nothing worth taking your time to read happened except that I made chili. Monday night, Dominic was pretty sick with a cold, poor kid. So he decided that he would crawl into my bed. This wouldn't been a problem except that he was coughing in my face, not sleeping, and whining every time I moved. So, I got up to get him some medicine. He freaked out. I waited for him and took him with me. Got him some triaminic or something and he calmed down, went to sleep and didn't wake up until my alarm went off at 7:15. Which is really late for a kid who is normally up at 6 at the latest, saying: “come on, the sun's up, it's a new day, get up” and amazing considering that I woke up at 6:50 to AHHAHEEHHEHEEEEEE from our two brothers who were having a screeching while being tickled contest. I discovered that he talks a lot in his sleep. Actually, he fights with David a lot in his sleep...

So somewhere amidst all the chaotic and non-chaotic moments, I realized how incredibly selfish I've been about the next semester thing. The reason that I decided not to come back without more aid is not because I don't want to come out with a lot of debt (which is true) but the reason I decided not to come back without more aid is because of how unfair and selfish it is of me to expect everyone else in my family to sacrifice so that I can do what I want to do. I can spend four extra months here working so that don't have to worry about finding the money to pay the other half of Cat's tuition or (as in November, December, and January) the entire thing if she can't. They have needs and wants to and for me to come back next semester without more aid would be one of the most ungrateful things that I could do. And I found out that I miss home more than I ever thought I would. I miss being here when the little ones need me or want me or when they discover something new or being able to fix dinner when Mom is tires or mopping the floor or sitting outside listening to all the wild birds and other critters running around here and just thinking. I think that if I don't get more aid, I will be able to resign myself to staying here for a few extra months. I really don't want to but I won't die from it. So if you hear me whining or sighing about it again, feel free to slap me and say “Hello, the world does not revolve around you. Stop bitching about it.”

Have a Really Great Break!

2007-03-09T13:52:00.000-05:00

That's all I want to say. Be safe, have fun, relax, and I'll see you all on Sunday! (Probably Sunday night)

Ummm

2007-03-05T15:07:00.000-05:00

This a pointless and hopefully short post. I'm sitting in the library with 21 minutes (yes, I'm sure of the math) left until class. And abso-freaking-lutely NOTHING to do. At all. I mean, I've done my math homework and my only other class tomorrow is theology 201, so I only have about 10 pages of Exodus to read. And you know me- procrastination is the thing I do best. (Which is why I have my math homework done... figure that one out...)

SO... midterms... they sucked. Yeah. That's about all I can say. Maybe I passed my math test... Holy heck, I have a higher grade in math than I do in philosophy. And lit. And if I get my midterm grades back and math is my highest grade, I think I'm going to be one confused chicka. I guess there's a first for everything??? What a weird first.

In other news, Jack, the goose has hatched his ducklings. But I think you all know that. HEY! IT'S ALMOST SPRING BREAK!!!! Sorry. But I really can't wait to go home. I'm sick of this place. And all of you. Yes. You. But don't worry. I'll miss you by next Sunday. Maybe. But Maybe not. It's a possibilty anyway. And I probably will. I'm actually not sick of you, sick of you, just... tired of this place and need a change.

Somebody else handed me a survey... I have something to do...

SCC Saturdays

2007-03-03T19:27:00.000-05:00

For all their boredom, I rather like Saturdays around here. Well, actually, I like the meals on Saturdays. Not necessarily the food, but the meals. There's a special sense of comradery different than the normal weekday friendliness (or not always so friendly-ness). A kind of "we're stuck here together with nothing better to do so let's talk" mentatlity. Sort of. I'm not really sure that that makes sense. BUT that's ok! You guys know how to translate!

I suppose that I shouldn't just count on other people knowing exactly what I mean. I guess that I should try and start communicating like a normal human being. Although... if other people can figure out what I mean, what's the point? Perhaps I'm not as bad as I think I am. I doubt it though. I know that my siblings and sometimes you guys have had to translate for me. Hmmm. What is the point of this? I don't even know. I've forgotten. I got sidetracked. I did start out with a purpose. Wonder what it was...

I miss my family. It's actually an odd feeling. I was never homesick before this semester. Never. Not when I was puking up my guts in Europe, not when I was navigating D.C. alone for three weeks (which I know is not a big deal, but it was for me at the time; small town Alabama kid alone in the city, a real city, for the first time), not on 4-h trips when I was younger, not last semester. I did miss my family ocassionally, but mostly it was missing staying up talking to my sisters until 1 or 2 in the morning, missing talking to my mother, missing my little Danny-Boy (who is the only person in my life who ever called me Kitty, but he does. I still can't figure out why he does or how he came up with that. It's not like we know anyone else named Kitty. He's also the only person in the world that I tolerate calling me that), missing being able to comfort my little brothers who would cry when they talked to me sometimes. But I never actually wanted to go home. And soon.

Talking to my family only makes it worse. And the fact that I talked to my family after I talked to my aunt and uncle (Aunt Holly and Uncle Frank, the one who makes me salsa and salsa verde; I'll probably mention them again.) who were telling me about how everyone was going to come over there around two (three here). This week, though, everyone also includes Christina, who is home on Spring Break and R.C., who I do NOT dislike. Or hate. In fact, I miss him, too. I really want to go home.

It also doesn't help that all they talk about is how shaken up everyone is down there. While Enterprise is 40 miles from my 'town', it's not like 40 miles to somewhere from where you guys live. People from my town know people from Enterprise. Heck, I know one of the girls that died (not well, but enough [from youth group things and going to Mass at that church]to recognize her picture). People from Opp and Andalusia (the two towns I live between) go to Enterprise on a regular basis. We used to pass through it every Sunday. When my mother was D.R.E., we would go there at least once a month because she had a meeting there. I know people who live across the street from the highschool and others who live near there. And, as much as I hate Alabama, there is a kind of generosity in the people. So all the radio stations are taking calls from people who were in the school, who knew the kids, or who went and volunteered after the tornado hit and letting them just talk on the air.

One of the guys that died had actually made it out of the building. He went back, got a lot of other people out, and then a beam and concrete fell on his neck. The stories about him are amazing to listen to. Ten years and he was never seen without a smile on his face. So it's not an impersonal tragedy, everyone in the rural parts for miles around is affected. Not drastically or anything. But they are in some way affected. If they don't know someone who died, chances are that they know someone who was injured; there were 50 people who were taken to the hospital, 40 serious injuries. Considering that competitions are friendly rivalries, the kids from the schools in my area, probably know kids from that school. I mean, I was homeschooled and knew kids from that school from places other than church.

The last two are St. John's Catholic Church. The others are of the High School.

Back to my homesickness. (yes, I know, no segue [is that how you spell it?])I shouldn't be homesick. I saw my family two weeks ago. But I want to go home. And this is a very new feeling. And slightly depressing because I really don't have a home. I'll be sleeping in my sister's bed (which used to be mine...) and I'll be living out of a suitcase. I'm not sure which is worse: the desire to go home or the knowledge that home is not really home.

Of Tornadoes and Overtime

2007-03-01T19:16:00.000-05:00

It's very odd for me, typing in cnn.com, weather.com, foxnews.com, and msnbc.com and seeing a little town 40 miles from where I live (in fact, those pictures were almost all taken from the parking lot of the church where we go to mass on Holy Days of Obligation; it's mighty strange to see a national news broadcast from a very, very familiar place). The headlines, "At Least 13 Dead", "Deadly Storm", "Utter Destruction in South Alabama", "Students May Still be Trapped Inside Demolished High School"; I might know one of those people. Not well. Maybe not even directly, but it is a small world and it's an even smaller Catholic world, especially in South Alabama.

I've seen tornadoes before. Deadly ones. I've been through many major hurricanes that left virtually nothing standing. I am used to seeing destruction from weather. I'm not used to waiting to hear if my father was able to make it safely home driving through those tornadoes, watching the radar for where I live and wondering if there are tornadoes hitting right now, talking to my mom who says "ok gotta go now, the storm is too bad", or wondering if my sister is still going to even be able to fly into Birmingham and if she does, will she be able to be picked up all from over 300 miles away. I don't like it either. I would much rather be in the storm.

See?

2007-02-28T13:38:00.000-05:00

I don't know if anyone heard me mutter "he looks my dad" last night, but really, look at that. When he's not making a weird face, he looks even more like Will Farrell. I just don't have a better picture.

I'm glad that I watched that movie. It gave me some solace about next semester. I'm pretty sure I'm not coming. There is a very slight possibilty that I can get need based aid, but they didn't give it to me last time, so I'm not hoping for anything this time. I'm not very good at that. Jill, you can do that for me.

Anyway, watching Stranger Than Fiction gave me an idea for next semester. I was thinking that it probably is a good thing that I don't have access to a stove. I would wind up with 27 (well, considering this school, it might be more like 127) study buddies, 7 notebooks of recipes (I already have three) and a D average. BUT next semester, I can send you guys care packages! Who doesn't like to get mail? Who doesn't like to eat? See? It works. It would make me happy, too. Well sort of. You know me. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Babies and kitchen chores. Heck, I'd be willing to clean a refrigerator right now. And be happy about it. Or mop a floor. At least I'll get to do that "next semester"...

As a side note, I love Dr. Urbanczyk. It made my day to hear him loose his temper during our midterm. And next semester, ( it doesn't matter for me, but it did make me happy to know) he's taeching a class on mideival literature. Which means Middle English. He said. Haha

Yay?

2007-02-26T14:16:00.000-05:00

The one thing that I most want right now is, of course, the thing that is the least likely to happen. In fact, it's absolutely impossible. There is no way that it will happen or can. I want to get off campus for a few hours. Alone. I could take a walk on the golf course, but that's basically a backyard- it's not really off campus. The Chapel is nice, too, but people can still find you there and sometimes, people get worried if you stay in there too long. They think something is wrong. If you were watching me write this, you'd see me rolling my eyes. I mean, it's nice that people care about you, but... And nothing's wrong- I just want to be alone. And that's utterly impossible.

What makes me want this even more is the fact that in a couple of weeks, I'll be at my parents' home where I don't even have a space that I can call "mine". I'll be invading other people's personal space. I hate that. At least here I have a bed and a bit of room. People aren't going to have to sleep on the floor because I am using their bed. I don't know how it's going to work for summer vacation. And I really don't think I'm coming next semester, either. I don't even want to think about spending seven months in Alabama. That's too depressing. Let's not talk about Alabama.

I don't like spring. Actually, I like spring, I just don't like watching the way people act in the spring. I've decided that I'm going to get married in November or January- those are the grossest months imaginable. I can't figure out why God invented them. There are lot of things that make me wonder what God was thinking when He was creating the world.

I get to babysit Jackie on Saturday. That's something I'm looking foward to. Funny how mundane things like spit-up, drool, and worse are going to be the highlight of my week. I miss babies. And I really should be writing my philosophy midterm right now.

What a Week

2007-02-23T14:53:00.000-05:00

-or, "Some very fine whine, especially for Brian"

I'm sick of being sick. And doctors. And medicine. I hate taking medicine. Especially medicine that doesn't work. Or that I'm allergic to. Oh well. I think that I'll have been to the doctor's more times by the end of this week than I have been in the last couple of years. And I don't even think I was sick when I went. I was there for my scoliosis and for a physical the last times I went. I think one time was my junior year of highschool and the other was right before the beginning of the Fall semester. And I miss my mom. And I want a smoothie. But is that any surprise?

I wrote that this afternoon. It's now 8:08pm.

My phone conversation with the nurse:
Dr. Kerns wants you to come in because you had this reaction
I'm really am fine now; I took Benadryl and all of the symptoms went away
Well he still wants to see you. He won't write a new perscription for you if you don't come in.
I don't think I am going to need any more perscriptions; I feel much better than I've felt all week.
Well, Dr. Kerns still advises you to come in.

ABOUT FOUR HOURS LATER
Is there any particular reason Dr. Kerns wants to see me? Any pressing reason that I absolutely need to come in?
Well Dr. Kerns wants to look at your throat since you had mouth sores as a reaction. And respiratory problems are common when you have a reaction that bad.
Ok, I haven't had any trouble breathing and all of the symptoms are gone.
Dr Kerns would still like to see you.

SO I go to the clinic, which is an hour away. Wait in the waiting room for an hour, sit in the exam for twenty or thirty minutes, (and the nurse guy was creepy, too), then some doc (I think he was a doc, anyway, maybe not) comes in listens to me breathe and says:
"You're fine. You don't need any more prescriptions. Stop taking the codone. You'll still have a cough even after you finish the antibiotics."
-Yes, I know, I only came because he wanted me to.
"Yeah, I got his note."

He's lucky he didn't get my fist down his throat. Ok. That wouldn't have happened but, I'm pretty sure that I shot him a "you-have-got-be-kidding-me-you-just-wasted-four-and-half-hours-of-my-day-AND-Lauren's-day-so-that-you-could-tell-me-what-I-told-you-no-fewer-than-three-times-already-and-you're-charging-me-for-it?! and-if-looks-could-kill-you-would-be-at-least-severely-maimed" glance.

I was NOT happy at all.

2007-02-16T13:48:00.000-05:00

So, I'm hoping for a miracle. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at hoping. I don't doubt that it can happen, but I don't let myself think that it will happen, or that there is a possibility that it might happen. I don't know if it's possible to pray with out hoping; I think that prayer infers that there is some slight hope. Perhaps there is. Perhaps there are two types of hope. I don't know.

I can, however do the "pray like it all depends on God, work like it all depends you" thing. I sent an email to Ms (Mrs.?) Roy saying I will not able to attend in the fall if I don't get more scholarship money and will I lose my fellowship if I have to miss out on the fall semester; how about my job? In better language, of course, but that was the jist of it.

I suppose if that doesn't work (I did already talk to the other people in the Finacial aid building but they just said, no there's nothing you can do) I will talk to Ms. Evanco. She pulls strings for me all the time. She seems to think that I'm indispensable for some reason... I can't figure that one out.

But hey, if I can't come back in the Fall, I have an idea for Fall break next semester.
You guys should all come visit me in Alabama. That would be a most interesting thing. Jill, you can look for the crippled goat and maybe we'll even have a cow that you can ride on. And Lauren, my uncle has horses. I think you all could survive the middle of nowhere for three or four days. I just don't know if you stand each other for four days in the middle of nowhere...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brian and Derek were wondering how long a list of things that bother me would be. Pretty long.

A list of things that bother me

Being touched
Feet
Eyes
Bad food
Not being able to help people
People who won’t let me help them
Phony people
Getting up early
People who have laptops and use the school’s computers to check their Myspace, Facebook, and email when there are people who don’t have computers waiting to write papers
Not knowing what the heck it was that I just ate
People who are spoiled
People who think that life is a bowl of cherries without the pits
People who stare at me after stalking me for half a semester and who have a girlfriend
Being jealous of people who don’t have worry about money problems
People who I can picture caricatured as possums
My Grandmother
Her husband
People who think that Alabamians listen to only country music
When guys don’t treat girls well
When girls don’t treat guys well
Excessive public smooching, especially when it blocks the door to my villa
Teasing about my coughing, while I’m coughing; it just makes it worse
Girls
Yes, girls, they are mean and they gossip
The fact that there are so many things on list
The fact that there are many more things that could and should be on this list
Self –righteous people
Hypocritical people
Condescending people (in the negative connotation)
People who use other people
A sticky table or dirty philosophy table
The fact that I can write more words on this page in ten minutes than I can in two hours when I am trying to write a paper
The fact that at some point I will fulfill all of these things (Wait, no I will never stalk myself and I am not my grandmother, her husband, or a guy and I know that not all Alabamians listen to country. Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend; that disqualifies me from one for a while at least).

That's just a basic list. *sigh.....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Library Jitters

2007-02-08T16:12:00.000-05:00

One hour and fifteen minutes:
Hopefully, I'll make it. Right now, I'm wondering how mad the admin will get if they see sitting on the circ desk. Or even with my feet on the desk. I'm not sure I can sit still very much longer. I feel like a little kid on long car ride. Well, like anyone on a long car ride.

One hour and seven minutes:
I really don't like this chair. And I don't like Sartre either. It bothers me that I can see a certain amount of logic behind his arguement. I don't buy it. It only makes a certain amount of sense if are atheistic (at least what I've read so far). He bases his whole premise on there being no God; if I were to believe there wasn't a God, I do believe I could be an existentialist. Even if I can't say it.
I also don't like this font. It swims in front of my face. My glasses aren't really helping. And no, Brian, I don't care if that was "such a woman thing to say".

Thirty seven minutes:
Mrs. DeBell told me earlier that they've blocked MySpace, Facebook and YouTube on the computers in here. I don't know about the computers in the Anti-Coffee House. I'm hungry. And bored, which is why I'm writing this. Not because I need to vent, not to amuse anyone, but simply because I'm extremely bored. If I were on a car ride, I'd be singing 100 bottles of beer on the wall. Or maybe an Irish drinking song. If I didn't have to work, I'd be eating right now.
Why am I always hungry?

Twenty-Two Minutes:
Sartre is no longer advancing an arguement that is logical. Am I spelling arguement right? Eh, I don't feel like looking it up now. That's right. To anyone who might be reading this: I don't care enough about you to make sure that I'm spelling arguement correctly.

Six Minutes:
Yay! I can start signing out now! And singing out!

hmm

2007-02-05T16:34:00.000-05:00

I had forgotten how much I really miss cooking, cleaning, and taking care of babies (well, anyone really; it just happens that yesterday I got to put a baby to sleep!). Yesterday sort of made me happy (I got to cook and do stuff like that again) and sort of made sad (I no longer really have anyone to do that sort of stuff for except when I go home [you guys are going to have to let me cook for you a lot now that I've been told I can go back to Hartmann's house and cook] ; also, I haven't ever really cooked and not had my family around, been making something for my family, or helping some member of my family make it). It also made me think quite a bit.

Eventually, there's something that each one of us is supposed to do with our life. In the past year, I've been amazed and intimidated by th thought of A) the circumstances underwhich I wound up here and B)the fact that I can't stay here forever; sooner or later (funny, I always thought it would be later, now it seems to be sooner) I'm going to have to decide exactly what it is I'm supposed to be doing.

Yesterday, I started to wonder what it is that I'm going to wind up doing with my life. I've always wanted to simply "be a mom" , but other than that, I have absolutely no clue. Which struck me as funny; I should have an idea of what I want to do when I get out school, especially since there's no garauntee (certainly not the way things look right now) of that ever even happening. But I have no idea what I would do for a job. Perhaps, I'll go study Canon Law in Italy. That would be fun. Perhaps, I'll go study music in Italy, that would be wonderful. (Not that studying something can actually be counted as a job).

Thing is, there is absolutely nothing that I want to do with my life; I have no ambitions, no expectations, no plans. Which is a very scary thought. Would that leave me stuck living in my parents house forever, flipping burgers for less than minimum wage while my siblings became wonderful people and successful ones, too? Not that I measure success by money or wealth, but I mean, come on, it does help. Especially since they have ambitions and dreams; they know exactly what they want to do.

Right now, I'm not too worried about it, though. If this were spring semester of senior year, then I'd be worried. As it is, I'm only 18 and have three and a half more years (at least) to decide.

sarahmartaben

2007-01-30T19:51:00.000-05:00

When I went to Pueblo's with Sarah, Marta, and Ben, I realized how similar they are are to us. In fact, the first thing that Sarah said was "Ben, you are the sole male amongst all these girls. You must protect our carnal treasure." This comment was in reference to a movie (Win a Date with Tad Hamilton- supposedly the Chickiest Chick-Flick around [I didn't like it]) that we had watched during girls' night in V5 the night before. The comment also succeeded in making Ben state that he really should find some new friends...

Now, we did meet Emily, Karla, and Karla's sister Maria at Pueblo's. But that was only after Sarah decided to take a non-confirmed shortcut to Dahlonega and we had a discussion about whether girls or guys were really the more competetive sex. There being only one representive of the male sex in the car, it was decided that females are indeed the more competetive sex. By this time, the shortcut had been officially confirmed.

To be honest, I don't really remember that much of the dinner conversation; I was too busy laughing. I do remember that when the check came it was NOT seperated (because, you know, we didn't say seperate checks five times or anything...). Then Sarah, who was sorting out who owed what amount of money, declared "There are seven of us. We ate $12.00 worth of cheese." At which we all kind of stared and then laughed and shook our heads over how pathetic that is.
It was good cheese, though. We all should go one day and just eat the cheese. And the fresh torilla chips.

Then, there was about ten chaotic minutes of "how-are-we-going-to-pay-for-this-because-someone-managed-to-leave-behind-a-handy-little-thing-called-a-debit-card-and-now-is-rooting-through-all-of-his? her?-belongings-to-find-enough-cash-but-is-still-.75-short-and-Marta-(who did not leave behind a debit card, but brought along $3.00 in laundry quarters and other miscellaneous change)-this-isn't-an-AMERICAN-dime!-which-produced-a-squeal-from-Emily-"There's my Canandian dime!-and-ensuing-fight-about-whose-money-it-actually-was-and-oh-shit-we-need-to-leave-a-tip-to-"No! we CANNOT leave a tip of $3.00 in CHANGE!!!"

O.k. maybe they're a little worse than we are. I can't imagine what we'll be like next year. We will drive every waiter and waitress in Daswonville to quit his or her job.

When we finally got up to go pay, Emily noticed that Ben was wearing a John Paul The Great University and began to stomp up and down exclaiming whinily, "Marta!! You got him a shirt before you got me a shirt! That's not fair!! I want one!!!!" WHICH she proceeded to do even after we had gotten into the cars. Marta flicked her off.

On the ride home it was "Pick on Marta Night". I could really sympathize with her. Alot. Of course, when Ben picked on her, she retaliated by smacking him in the face with her leather glove. We took 400 to get back to Dawsonville. This prompted Marta to ask Sarah why she took that way. "Marta, the reason I took 400 is because halfway between Dawsonville and Dahlonega is an animal shelter where I can drop you off. "

When we got back to campus Ben decreed "I'm never going out with you people again!"

What a dreary, dreary day

2007-01-21T15:27:00.000-05:00

It's 37 degrees and raining. Hard. I should be doing homework, but I'm not motivated enough because I know that Tuesday is going to be one of the most boring days ever. Plus, I'm still figuring out how to work my glasses. It's quite tricky when descending stairs. It looks as if the next step is further than it really is- not fun. Especially not in heels...

Tomorrow will be interesting, though. I've never been to a march. Not quite sure what to expect. Something good, I guess. I wonder how many people across the country are going to be at one of these marches. And then I wonder how many are actually prolife, not just anti- abortion. There is a difference. Can we really get anywhere with the whole prolife thing if men and women don't recognize their own dignity? How can someone respect the dignity of others (especially vulnerable others) if they do not respect themselves. How many people marching tomorrow are all for "assisted suicides" or pro- birth control? I wouldn't think there would be too many of the former, but I bet there are a LOT of the latter. In fact, I would bet that there are a lot of people at the marches who advocate birth control/ "safe sex" as an answer to abortion. But what does that accomplish? It still only leaves us swimming in our own refuse.

O God, our Creator, all life is in your hands from conception until death. Help us to cherish our children and to reverence the awesome privilege of our share in creation. May all people live and die in dignity and love. Bless all those who defend the rights of the unborn, the handicapped, and the aged. Enlighten and be merciful toward those who fail to love, and give them peace. Let freedom be tempered by responsibility, integrity and morality. Amen

Library Chronicles

2007-01-14T18:56:00.000-05:00

I have forgotten how incredibly long and boring the weekends are here. This weekend has been so boring that I'm almost finished with all my homework for Tuesday AND Wednesday. They're even more boring than weekends where I live when I'm not at school. Which I guess most people would term 'home' but I'm not sure that fits for me. Home is where the heart is, right? I don't think I really have a home.

What an un-happy type of a post for my surroundings. The library. With Jill, Lauren, and Weasle. Who just said that KFC kills their chickens using "chicken concubines"...
I think he meant to say chicken concenetration camps. if THAT makes any sense.

Zak And Sara... Ah, it's nice being the Rulers of The Library. With nothing pressing to do. And Dan on the way. Hey! Jill clapped at the right place!!! Yay Jill!!! NOOOO!! The song is gone!! Stupid computer. Stupid MySpace that doesn't work on the (stupid) computer. But It's ok. now we're listening to Dan. And Weasle's gone.

Now, Jill is showing off the gay snowmen to Dan. Who just said "yeah, they're clearly gay; they both have tophats and neither of them have snowbreasts".

*Sigh We've been here a week. It sort of feels longer. Sort of feels shorter. It definitely feels different than last semester. I actually talk to my roomate... haha.

I thought I would write more later but I didn't feel like it.

2007-01-12T14:09:00.000-05:00

The original reason I created this silly thing is the same as Amy's. But I think I might start to actually use this thing. It looks funny with the little saying "no posts found that match your query". It begs to be utilized. I just hope Amy succeeds. I'm about to watch her leave the library and attempt to covertly deliver a letter to our beloved Dr. Urbanczyk. Oh wait. The letter has been given to Laura to give to Dr. Urbanczyk. That might work. But maybe not. An oh, Brian, if you happen to read this, Amy decided to put a personal touch in the letter. Not in the text of the letter. I think he can figure out who it's from... Hmmm... Wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

The letter has been delivered. Now we wait. For what? For Amy to bring her tiny vaccum cleaner to clean up the confetti that Laura spilled while she was complaining about the man in the bathroom. Personally, I'd take that complaint to Mrs. DeBell, not a library intern.

Speaking of Mrs. DeBell, she just walked by reading a piece of paper. Hope it wasn't ours. THAT could be bad. Now Dr. Combee walked by reading a piece of paper. Hope it wasn't ours, either.