Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Dilemma
So, it occurs to me that the title of my blog annoys me nowadays, no longer being as pertinent (as I presume the number of obsessions I have will continue to grow - I think now I'm up to four or five things that could legitimately be called obsessions, which is still less than the number of obsessions racked up by, say, my sister, my mother, or most of my other siblings, who all seem inclined to hyperactive obsessing, but whatever), and it's also not sufficiently descriptive or witty to suit my tastes. I assisted with naming my husband's blog - the name of his blog amuses me, and now I feel dissatisfied with the name of my own. However, the title of the blog is tied to the web address . . . I wonder if I can still change things (i.e., both title and web-address) without creating an entirely new blog (thereby keeping all my post history, tags, etc.) Does anyone know?
Friday, November 28, 2008
Materialistic Insanity
Thank God my husband, currently employed as a seasonal retail worker, was not working this morning.
Granted, the midwest is NOT New York, but still . . .
(Photo courtesy of the New York Times)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
On Raining and Pouring
Regarding the mundane practical details touching upon our general welfare: uhm, well, we could use some prayers right now. We’re down to one moving police dept. application, and it hasn’t even reached the “tough part” yet, i.e., the nasty panel interview where they can decide they don’t care for you based on entirely random things they never tell you about. In the meantime, back on the ranch, baby is coming in little better than 10 weeks, and oh, yes, just to top it off: Obsession No. 2 was in a car accident the night before last. Aside from some minor whiplash he’s fine (thank GOD – I was an emotional mess that night simply for thought of what might have been, which is silly, I know, but hey, I’m pregnant. Cut me some slack.), but our 40 mpg manual transmission darling of a ’98 Honda Civic didn’t come out quite so unscathed. Frankly, it’s only the front left quarter panel that saw any damage – the impact flattened a tire, scratched up a hubcap, smashed a headlight, etc., (we don’t yet know if there is any serious mechanical damage, but from the look of it, as it doesn’t appear that the damage was bad enough to hurt the frame or anything, so we can be reservedly optimistic) but given its mileage and age the insurance company will be more likely to total it.
The accident was, of course, the other guy’s fault (Obsession No. 2 is the safest, smartest, calmest driver I’ve ever seen) – said dude was in the left-hand turn lane, approaching a light on a four lane highway, intending to turn and get gas at the station on that side of the road. However, lo and behold, gas was 4 cents cheaper on the right side of the road, so he turned his large white van across two lanes of 45 mph moving traffic (the light was green) to get to the right-hand turn lane on the other side. He didn’t see the little green Honda Civic in the lane directly to his right. My husband, reasonably enough, presumed the guy intended to make one lane-change into his lane (what kind of a doofus would attempt to cross four lanes of traffic like that, after all?). He hit the brakes while turning to the right, which didn’t result in avoiding a collision given the wild four-lane crossover, and, what with the light rain and resulting slick road, ended up T-boning him at an angle to the back right quarter panel. Fortunately, this impact caused the least possible damage to our car, not deploying the airbags, and only bouncing my husband’s head against the drivers’ side window. The police officers that came to the scene wrote up the report quickly and easily, dolling out a ticket to the other fellow for an illegal lane change and placing him at fault without any fuss. The guy had insurance through Geiko, and they’re covering the cost of a rental in the meantime (funny looking car – a white Dodge Caliber as it’ll be a few days before they get around to assessing anything.
I’m really trying to focus on being thankful for the fact that nobody was hurt – however, to be honest, I’m rather annoyed at it all. It just about figures, don’t it? Our finances are tighter than ever, our future job prospects are completely up in the air, and now this. THAT JUST ABOUT FIGURES.
I suppose, however, many of my readers will raise an eyebrow at me and have little sympathy. I mean, here I am mourning the possible loss of a 40 mpg car when gas here in Independence, MO is $1.63 a gallon. Yep, that’s right. $1.63 per gallon. That’s dirt cheap, even for the KC metro area. The reason for this is because it’s Independence. Independence has very low taxes, and this is to be expected, if not downright required. Why? Because the city of Independence doesn’t do jack. That’s why. No trash pickup, a largely awol police force, general disrepair, etc. The situation is most unfortunate, but it does, however, make for cheap gas. *shrug* Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
Okay, good news, good news, need to mention some of that, too. Uhm. Oh, yeah. So far, there have been no complications with the pregnancy whatsoever. I go in every four weeks (soon to be every two weeks), my father-in-law pokes at me a bit, listens to the baby’s heart rate and tells me what it is (at which point I always blink at him and he tells me that it’s a good/normal number). Then he asks me if I have any concerns or discomforts, which I never really do (aside from the normal stuff – muscle aches, intestinal issues and so on, which I don’t even bother mentioning). He spends the rest of the visit chatting with his son, generally about firearms – a hobby they’ve taken up together and which my mother-in-law and I regard with some amount of mildly disturbed bewilderment. After that, I do my thing in that little cup, hand it over to his nurses, and they send me on my way without any further fuss. Not diabetic, not anemic, nobody’s fussing about my weight (I’ve gained little so far, but no doubt that’s because I’m shedding excess me to make baby – that’s a common thing for the pudgy), earlier sonogram seemed to say baby has the appropriate number of fingers, toes, suchwhat and so on. At this point I’m having a difficult time understanding why I’m going to the doctor so often, but I guess it’s not hurting anything, it’s a convenient opportunity to visit the in-laws and my insurance (which costs us a pretty penny) covers it all, so I might as well keep it up, lest my mother have a conniption fit. She seems to think there’s a great deal more to worry about and that I should be asking more questions, but I’m not entirely convinced of that just yet. I mean, seriously, given our current scenario, I should think I need not borrow any extra worries. Moreover, the quip of a friend echoes up in the back of my mind: pregnancy is not an illness – why treat it like one?
That sums up the practical update, for now. Like I said, prayers would be good – especially for Obsession No. 2, who is feeling rather inadequate at the moment. Why is it that men have such a hard time separating worldly success from being a worthy and responsible provider? It’s not like the world is a great big snack machine – put in so many responsible-man intentions and then *ding*, out pops a reliable career. Seriously, that’s not how it works. I know plenty of wise, responsible, completely bankrupt men. It’s not fun, but worldly success is hardly the measure of anything, really. Why is that so hard to believe, eh? WHY? *Rubbing head* Say a few prayers for him, k?
The accident was, of course, the other guy’s fault (Obsession No. 2 is the safest, smartest, calmest driver I’ve ever seen) – said dude was in the left-hand turn lane, approaching a light on a four lane highway, intending to turn and get gas at the station on that side of the road. However, lo and behold, gas was 4 cents cheaper on the right side of the road, so he turned his large white van across two lanes of 45 mph moving traffic (the light was green) to get to the right-hand turn lane on the other side. He didn’t see the little green Honda Civic in the lane directly to his right. My husband, reasonably enough, presumed the guy intended to make one lane-change into his lane (what kind of a doofus would attempt to cross four lanes of traffic like that, after all?). He hit the brakes while turning to the right, which didn’t result in avoiding a collision given the wild four-lane crossover, and, what with the light rain and resulting slick road, ended up T-boning him at an angle to the back right quarter panel. Fortunately, this impact caused the least possible damage to our car, not deploying the airbags, and only bouncing my husband’s head against the drivers’ side window. The police officers that came to the scene wrote up the report quickly and easily, dolling out a ticket to the other fellow for an illegal lane change and placing him at fault without any fuss. The guy had insurance through Geiko, and they’re covering the cost of a rental in the meantime (funny looking car – a white Dodge Caliber as it’ll be a few days before they get around to assessing anything.
I’m really trying to focus on being thankful for the fact that nobody was hurt – however, to be honest, I’m rather annoyed at it all. It just about figures, don’t it? Our finances are tighter than ever, our future job prospects are completely up in the air, and now this. THAT JUST ABOUT FIGURES.
I suppose, however, many of my readers will raise an eyebrow at me and have little sympathy. I mean, here I am mourning the possible loss of a 40 mpg car when gas here in Independence, MO is $1.63 a gallon. Yep, that’s right. $1.63 per gallon. That’s dirt cheap, even for the KC metro area. The reason for this is because it’s Independence. Independence has very low taxes, and this is to be expected, if not downright required. Why? Because the city of Independence doesn’t do jack. That’s why. No trash pickup, a largely awol police force, general disrepair, etc. The situation is most unfortunate, but it does, however, make for cheap gas. *shrug* Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
Okay, good news, good news, need to mention some of that, too. Uhm. Oh, yeah. So far, there have been no complications with the pregnancy whatsoever. I go in every four weeks (soon to be every two weeks), my father-in-law pokes at me a bit, listens to the baby’s heart rate and tells me what it is (at which point I always blink at him and he tells me that it’s a good/normal number). Then he asks me if I have any concerns or discomforts, which I never really do (aside from the normal stuff – muscle aches, intestinal issues and so on, which I don’t even bother mentioning). He spends the rest of the visit chatting with his son, generally about firearms – a hobby they’ve taken up together and which my mother-in-law and I regard with some amount of mildly disturbed bewilderment. After that, I do my thing in that little cup, hand it over to his nurses, and they send me on my way without any further fuss. Not diabetic, not anemic, nobody’s fussing about my weight (I’ve gained little so far, but no doubt that’s because I’m shedding excess me to make baby – that’s a common thing for the pudgy), earlier sonogram seemed to say baby has the appropriate number of fingers, toes, suchwhat and so on. At this point I’m having a difficult time understanding why I’m going to the doctor so often, but I guess it’s not hurting anything, it’s a convenient opportunity to visit the in-laws and my insurance (which costs us a pretty penny) covers it all, so I might as well keep it up, lest my mother have a conniption fit. She seems to think there’s a great deal more to worry about and that I should be asking more questions, but I’m not entirely convinced of that just yet. I mean, seriously, given our current scenario, I should think I need not borrow any extra worries. Moreover, the quip of a friend echoes up in the back of my mind: pregnancy is not an illness – why treat it like one?
That sums up the practical update, for now. Like I said, prayers would be good – especially for Obsession No. 2, who is feeling rather inadequate at the moment. Why is it that men have such a hard time separating worldly success from being a worthy and responsible provider? It’s not like the world is a great big snack machine – put in so many responsible-man intentions and then *ding*, out pops a reliable career. Seriously, that’s not how it works. I know plenty of wise, responsible, completely bankrupt men. It’s not fun, but worldly success is hardly the measure of anything, really. Why is that so hard to believe, eh? WHY? *Rubbing head* Say a few prayers for him, k?
How on earth is baby shuffling my organs all the way up here (points to region in upper abdomen)????? He’s* not supposed to be all the way up there yet. Maybe it’s the way I’m sitting (shifting). Baby tends to shuffle and kick when he feels his space being encroached upon, I think – he’s definitely getting big enough to feel cramped.
*Male pronouns utilized out of grammatical necessity alone. Please do not infer any rash predictions re: the sex of this child. I refuse to commit to a speculation.
*Male pronouns utilized out of grammatical necessity alone. Please do not infer any rash predictions re: the sex of this child. I refuse to commit to a speculation.
Stale
Can thoughts go stale? My intellect is full of thought-crumbs (a great, great many thought-crumbs) but somehow I can’t help but regard them as far too stale to be shared. My muse is a fitful, moody little beastie – her vanity requires immediate attention or she goes to her corner and sulks. How I wish I could bring her under my control . . .
Upon more serious contemplation, leaving aside all the fitting, but nevertheless mythological, imagery, no doubt my “muse” is only a way of referring to the side of my personality that controls my creativity, as well as most of my more admirable passions and energies, viz., my sanguineous streak. Given that, this situation is hardly surprising. I’ve always known that I don’t have that side of me under any kind of rational control. However, if I try to force it into following timely, virtuous dictates it simply refuses to cooperate and, left alone with only my choleric side as comfort, I get very angry about it all and am quite miserable. My marriage has greatly exacerbated this battle, too. When you’re married you can’t really afford running your life higgledy-pig. Consideration for/devotion to one’s husband requires forethought, rational control over renegade emotions: in short, a general good order of soul and action. I’ve yet to figure out, though, how this sort of rational control can be exercised without murdering my passion for life altogether. The mythological images are really the only fitting way to describe that aspect of my life – it’s as if the part of me that enables all real sense of wonder for this world were some nasty little sprite that simply will not heed beck and call. BUT, it simply has to submit. Right reason will not admit of anything else.
So . . .
I guess I get used to the state of being stale . . . ?
Upon more serious contemplation, leaving aside all the fitting, but nevertheless mythological, imagery, no doubt my “muse” is only a way of referring to the side of my personality that controls my creativity, as well as most of my more admirable passions and energies, viz., my sanguineous streak. Given that, this situation is hardly surprising. I’ve always known that I don’t have that side of me under any kind of rational control. However, if I try to force it into following timely, virtuous dictates it simply refuses to cooperate and, left alone with only my choleric side as comfort, I get very angry about it all and am quite miserable. My marriage has greatly exacerbated this battle, too. When you’re married you can’t really afford running your life higgledy-pig. Consideration for/devotion to one’s husband requires forethought, rational control over renegade emotions: in short, a general good order of soul and action. I’ve yet to figure out, though, how this sort of rational control can be exercised without murdering my passion for life altogether. The mythological images are really the only fitting way to describe that aspect of my life – it’s as if the part of me that enables all real sense of wonder for this world were some nasty little sprite that simply will not heed beck and call. BUT, it simply has to submit. Right reason will not admit of anything else.
So . . .
I guess I get used to the state of being stale . . . ?
Friday, September 05, 2008
Excuses
1) I don't have internet access at my current place of residence.
2) It seems that working at the circulation desk in a public library (as opposed to an academic one) actually involves circulation. Moreover, the other duties I have at my new workplace are mostly unassociated with a computer. Thus, I no longer have time to kill and or the ability to technologically "multi-task".
3) It wasn't until just this past week that I felt like I had anything worthwhile to say to humanity. The predominant effect of first/early second trimester pregnancy, for me, seems to have been very bad grumpiness. Now, the grumpiness wasn't even the normal form of grumpiness for me - i.e. unreasonable anger showered upon people and objects associated with what would be, objectively, minor annoyances. That's my normal kind of grumpiness - it's dumb, but it's fleeting. This was a wierd, very foreign kind of grumpiness that rarely or never seemed to come forth as a spark of anger, but caused a deep skepticism and resultant disinterest in the world at large. I think it's as close to being a melancholic as I've ever come. I now pity all melancholics very deeply. Your lives must really suck.
More later.
2) It seems that working at the circulation desk in a public library (as opposed to an academic one) actually involves circulation. Moreover, the other duties I have at my new workplace are mostly unassociated with a computer. Thus, I no longer have time to kill and or the ability to technologically "multi-task".
3) It wasn't until just this past week that I felt like I had anything worthwhile to say to humanity. The predominant effect of first/early second trimester pregnancy, for me, seems to have been very bad grumpiness. Now, the grumpiness wasn't even the normal form of grumpiness for me - i.e. unreasonable anger showered upon people and objects associated with what would be, objectively, minor annoyances. That's my normal kind of grumpiness - it's dumb, but it's fleeting. This was a wierd, very foreign kind of grumpiness that rarely or never seemed to come forth as a spark of anger, but caused a deep skepticism and resultant disinterest in the world at large. I think it's as close to being a melancholic as I've ever come. I now pity all melancholics very deeply. Your lives must really suck.
More later.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Recommended Reading
"Hello, Professor Pearce,
I am hesitant to ask you this question, as it is a very large one, but I cannot think of anyone else I know of who is qualified to answer it, and whose taste and ethical standards I would reasonably trust.
Several other Thomas Aquinas College graduates and I were recently discussing that we'd like to broaden our experience with literature, but we're uncertain where to begin. I myself have noticed, while thumbing through the items I catalog for the library, that there seems to be a massive amount of literature not worth the paper it's printed on. Do you have a list of works, from various periods and styles, that you might recommend to us?
In Christ,
Mrs. Emily"
In reply:
"Dear Emily,
This is a particularly frenetic time for me so please forgive the relative brevity of this response. I hope that the following cursory list will suffice for your present purposes. If you'd like something more detailed, please write to me again in a couple of months when, hopefully, I'll have more time at my disposal. Any way, here goes, roughly chronologically:
Homer: The Iliad and Odyssey (of course!)
Aeschylus: Oresteia
Sophocles: Oedipus Cycle
Virgil: The Aeneid
Boethius: The Consolation of Philosophy
Augustine: Confessions, and The City of God
Anonymous: Beowulf (Tolkien or Heaney translations)
Other Anglo-Saxon Poems: The Dream of the Rood, The Wanderer, The Seafarer
Dante: Divine Comedy (Penguin Classics edition for Dorothy L. Sayers' superb Thomistic notes)
Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales
Anonymous: Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Tolkien translation)
Anonymous: The Song of Roland
Thomas More: Utopia
Marlowe: Dr. Faustus
Shakespeare: All! But begin with Hamlet, King Lear, The Merchant of Venice, Macbeth, Othello, The Tempest, etc.
Robert Southwell: Poems
Donne: Poems
Herbert: Poems
Crashaw: Poems
St. John of the Cross: Poems
Cervantes: Don Quixote
Milton: Paradise Lost
Dryden: Religio Laici, and The Hind and the Panther
Boswell: Life of Johnson
Gray: Elegy in a Country Churchyard
Goldsmith: The Deserted Village
Mazzoni: Il Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed)
Blake: Poems
Wordsworth: Poems
Coleridge: Poems
Byron: Poems
Shelley: Poems
Keats: Poems
Mary Shelley: Frankenstein
Austen: Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Mansfield Park
Emily Bronte: Wuthering Heights
Baudelaire: Les Fleurs du Mal
Huysmans: A Rebours, La Bas, and En Route (La Bas has an horrifically sordid depiction of a Black Mass which is not for the squeamish)
Newman: Loss and Gain, Apologia pro Vita Sua, and his Poems
Hopkins: Poems
Stevenson: Jekyll and Hyde
Dickens: A Christmas Carol, David Copperfield, A Tale of Two Cities, and Oliver Twist
Tolstoy: War and Peace
Dostoevky: Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, and Notes from Underground
Wilde: The Picture of Dorian Gray, An Ideal Husband, A Woman of No Importance, and The Importance of Being Earnest
Chesterton: The Man Who was Thursday, The Napoleon of Notting Hill, The Ball and the Cross, Orthodoxy, The Everlasting Man, and his poem, Lepanto.
Belloc: The Path to Rome, The Four Men, Belinda and his Poems
Baring: Robert Peckham, Cat's Cradle, C, and many of his Poems
R.H. Benson: Come Rack! Come Rope!, Lord of the World, and his Poems
Wilfred Owen: Poems
Siegfried Sassoon: Poems
T.S. Eliot: All of his Poems but particularly The Waste Land and Four Quartets, also his play, Murder in the Cathedral
Roy Campbell: Poems
Greene: The Power and the Glory
Waugh: A Handful of Dust, and Brideshead Revisited
Orwell: Keep the Aspidistra Flying, Nineteen Eighty-Four, and Animal Farm
C.S. Lewis: All of his fictional works are marvellous
Tolkien: The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, his essay On Fairy Stories, his short story Leaf by Niggle and his poem Mythopoeia
Solzhenitsyn: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, First Circle, Cancer Ward, and The Gulag Archipelago
Bolt: A Man for All Seasons
This should keep you busy for a while!
God bless,
JP"
While a good number of these works are already included the TAC Great Books program, there's still a great many works that aren't, so I thought I'd share the wealth. :)
I am hesitant to ask you this question, as it is a very large one, but I cannot think of anyone else I know of who is qualified to answer it, and whose taste and ethical standards I would reasonably trust.
Several other Thomas Aquinas College graduates and I were recently discussing that we'd like to broaden our experience with literature, but we're uncertain where to begin. I myself have noticed, while thumbing through the items I catalog for the library, that there seems to be a massive amount of literature not worth the paper it's printed on. Do you have a list of works, from various periods and styles, that you might recommend to us?
In Christ,
Mrs. Emily"
In reply:
"Dear Emily,
This is a particularly frenetic time for me so please forgive the relative brevity of this response. I hope that the following cursory list will suffice for your present purposes. If you'd like something more detailed, please write to me again in a couple of months when, hopefully, I'll have more time at my disposal. Any way, here goes, roughly chronologically:
Homer: The Iliad and Odyssey (of course!)
Aeschylus: Oresteia
Sophocles: Oedipus Cycle
Virgil: The Aeneid
Boethius: The Consolation of Philosophy
Augustine: Confessions, and The City of God
Anonymous: Beowulf (Tolkien or Heaney translations)
Other Anglo-Saxon Poems: The Dream of the Rood, The Wanderer, The Seafarer
Dante: Divine Comedy (Penguin Classics edition for Dorothy L. Sayers' superb Thomistic notes)
Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales
Anonymous: Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Tolkien translation)
Anonymous: The Song of Roland
Thomas More: Utopia
Marlowe: Dr. Faustus
Shakespeare: All! But begin with Hamlet, King Lear, The Merchant of Venice, Macbeth, Othello, The Tempest, etc.
Robert Southwell: Poems
Donne: Poems
Herbert: Poems
Crashaw: Poems
St. John of the Cross: Poems
Cervantes: Don Quixote
Milton: Paradise Lost
Dryden: Religio Laici, and The Hind and the Panther
Boswell: Life of Johnson
Gray: Elegy in a Country Churchyard
Goldsmith: The Deserted Village
Mazzoni: Il Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed)
Blake: Poems
Wordsworth: Poems
Coleridge: Poems
Byron: Poems
Shelley: Poems
Keats: Poems
Mary Shelley: Frankenstein
Austen: Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Mansfield Park
Emily Bronte: Wuthering Heights
Baudelaire: Les Fleurs du Mal
Huysmans: A Rebours, La Bas, and En Route (La Bas has an horrifically sordid depiction of a Black Mass which is not for the squeamish)
Newman: Loss and Gain, Apologia pro Vita Sua, and his Poems
Hopkins: Poems
Stevenson: Jekyll and Hyde
Dickens: A Christmas Carol, David Copperfield, A Tale of Two Cities, and Oliver Twist
Tolstoy: War and Peace
Dostoevky: Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment, and Notes from Underground
Wilde: The Picture of Dorian Gray, An Ideal Husband, A Woman of No Importance, and The Importance of Being Earnest
Chesterton: The Man Who was Thursday, The Napoleon of Notting Hill, The Ball and the Cross, Orthodoxy, The Everlasting Man, and his poem, Lepanto.
Belloc: The Path to Rome, The Four Men, Belinda and his Poems
Baring: Robert Peckham, Cat's Cradle, C, and many of his Poems
R.H. Benson: Come Rack! Come Rope!, Lord of the World, and his Poems
Wilfred Owen: Poems
Siegfried Sassoon: Poems
T.S. Eliot: All of his Poems but particularly The Waste Land and Four Quartets, also his play, Murder in the Cathedral
Roy Campbell: Poems
Greene: The Power and the Glory
Waugh: A Handful of Dust, and Brideshead Revisited
Orwell: Keep the Aspidistra Flying, Nineteen Eighty-Four, and Animal Farm
C.S. Lewis: All of his fictional works are marvellous
Tolkien: The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, his essay On Fairy Stories, his short story Leaf by Niggle and his poem Mythopoeia
Solzhenitsyn: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, First Circle, Cancer Ward, and The Gulag Archipelago
Bolt: A Man for All Seasons
This should keep you busy for a while!
God bless,
JP"
While a good number of these works are already included the TAC Great Books program, there's still a great many works that aren't, so I thought I'd share the wealth. :)
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Modernity
I've been reading a novel lately, to try and make time pass more quickly during my husband's absence. I think I chose poorly, considering the melancholy nature of my mood (Nordic people are so . . . depressing . . . no offense, Tasik) but the book came highly recommended by trustworthy persons. I can easily see that there are many redeeming qualities to the novel but in my moody preggo state I am overwhelmingly annoyed that my personality is so unlike the heroine's that I can't relate to her at all. -SIGH- Oh well. I've read and enjoyed other novels where that was the case. It seems people just don't write novels about women like me.
However, as I continue through the novel (the storyline is well written, so now it's just going to annoy me if I don't keep going on to what comes next, no matter what effects it may have on my already bad mood - a self-destructive habit, I know, but there's no way out of it), I have had a couple of constantly recurring thoughts, and they're probably worth sharing.
In some ways, modernity pretty much rocks - so many of the stodgy social conventions presented in the novel block the eyes of the characters from common sense. Nowadays, there are plenty of other things to block our common sense, but at least they're not stodgy social conventions. PLEH. :P
Also, in a similar vein, the old days just weren't all that great. People often speak of the past as a golden age long gone, where people didn't sin like they do now. While in some ways this may be true, depending on the age and society referred to, in most ways it's plainly false. People always sinned, and they pretty much always sinned the same way we sin now. Men failed of their commitments and shirked their responsibilities; women, swept away by unchecked passions, married flakey men thinking they could change them later (1-800-D-R-L-A-U-R-A, people); jealousy and lust ran every bit as rampant and children were just as likely to go undisciplined. It was always the same for us human beings - when it comes to sin, modernity doesn't really manage to be all that original. Sins are the only acts human beings can perform of themselves, unassisted by the Hand of Grace - and my, my, my aren't we woefully unimaginative. Not that I'm advocating a new effort to be more creative. It would be entirely futile. I'm simply pointing out the fact that sin is unbelievably boring. We should give up, already.
Oh, and one more thing: I wholeheartedly thank God I was not born into an age where I would be known my entire life as Emily Johnsdatter. Don't get me wrong - I love my daddy, but seriously . . .
However, as I continue through the novel (the storyline is well written, so now it's just going to annoy me if I don't keep going on to what comes next, no matter what effects it may have on my already bad mood - a self-destructive habit, I know, but there's no way out of it), I have had a couple of constantly recurring thoughts, and they're probably worth sharing.
In some ways, modernity pretty much rocks - so many of the stodgy social conventions presented in the novel block the eyes of the characters from common sense. Nowadays, there are plenty of other things to block our common sense, but at least they're not stodgy social conventions. PLEH. :P
Also, in a similar vein, the old days just weren't all that great. People often speak of the past as a golden age long gone, where people didn't sin like they do now. While in some ways this may be true, depending on the age and society referred to, in most ways it's plainly false. People always sinned, and they pretty much always sinned the same way we sin now. Men failed of their commitments and shirked their responsibilities; women, swept away by unchecked passions, married flakey men thinking they could change them later (1-800-D-R-L-A-U-R-A, people); jealousy and lust ran every bit as rampant and children were just as likely to go undisciplined. It was always the same for us human beings - when it comes to sin, modernity doesn't really manage to be all that original. Sins are the only acts human beings can perform of themselves, unassisted by the Hand of Grace - and my, my, my aren't we woefully unimaginative. Not that I'm advocating a new effort to be more creative. It would be entirely futile. I'm simply pointing out the fact that sin is unbelievably boring. We should give up, already.
Oh, and one more thing: I wholeheartedly thank God I was not born into an age where I would be known my entire life as Emily Johnsdatter. Don't get me wrong - I love my daddy, but seriously . . .
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Announcement
The Priests for Life tell me this is more or less what Baby Curry looks like right now. :)
I apologize to anyone I have been grumpy with lately. Oh yes, that's right: "morning sickness", but for me it's more like "all day sickness with special emphasis on mornings and evenings". :( I'm not really spewing, thank goodness, just always feeling like I could be, if I were so inclined. Thank goodness for peppermint gum. I don't know what I'd do without it - seems to keep the monster at bay, to some extent.
We, of course, wanted to wait on announcing it widely until we'd told our families in person. We did that earlier tonight by giving late father's day cards to both the new grandpas (and two present great-grandpas!) at a small party.
. . . and yes, we are very, very pleased. :D
Thursday, June 12, 2008
"But the flock cries out for another, and they keep answering that bell. Another starry-eyed messiah, meets a violent farewell. Learn to be still."
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Codependency
I just put my husband on a plane this afternoon. He will be out of town for four or five weeks. The minute I arrived back at home-base I realized that I have positively NO IDEA what to do with myself without my husband around. I'm currently sitting in my office, and I don't really have any projects left which I can reasonably do, but I'm not really sure I want to go home . . .
So, after three unsuccessful attempts to drag other family members into lengthy long-distance telephone conversations, I decided that I'd best just blog about my misery. I thought up a relevant title for the entry, and went over to Google images to find some prosaic, public-domain photograph or cartoon that might fit, as is my wont. I put the title of this blog entry into the search box, and this is what came up . . .
This, my friends, is the "TwoDaLoo". A real, honest to goodness, made in China, toilet.
This, evidently, is what Google thinks of as codependency.
So, perhaps I'm not actually codependent after all . . .
So, after three unsuccessful attempts to drag other family members into lengthy long-distance telephone conversations, I decided that I'd best just blog about my misery. I thought up a relevant title for the entry, and went over to Google images to find some prosaic, public-domain photograph or cartoon that might fit, as is my wont. I put the title of this blog entry into the search box, and this is what came up . . .
This, my friends, is the "TwoDaLoo". A real, honest to goodness, made in China, toilet.
This, evidently, is what Google thinks of as codependency.
So, perhaps I'm not actually codependent after all . . .
Thursday, May 29, 2008
A Good Job is Hard to Find
I have yet to beat myself into applying for jobs unrelated to the field I have so far enjoyed, and in which I can actually boast experience. Ah, libraries - so quiet, well-ordered, and filled with an unmistakable air of pseudo-intellectualism.
However, there seems to be a prejudice against me, somehow. I've applied for about 7 positions, most full-time but one half-time, and I was unmistakably qualified for all of them (and not overqualified, either), but I haven't heard a word from any of them. Maybe it's the fact that the mailing address currently listed is for Florida - but I did specify that I would be moving as soon as possible (i.e., as soon as I could get a job), and that I'd be happy to fly into town for an interview. Maybe it's the fact that the undergraduate degree I have bears the stigma of the liberal arts, i.e., it saith, to the unenlightened, "I did nothing nothing useful in college". Maybe it's the fact that I'm 23. I mean, old people sue for age descrimination, but to be honest, for all I can tell, they're not the ones who actually suffer from that sort of thing in the working world. Sometimes I think people see my birthyear and think, "Goodness, in 1985 I was (insert adult activity here) - she couldn't know what she was doing. That's just crazy young."
So, I am rather torn, here. Do I stall myself out in the job hunt, out of a preference for a "career" I'm (hopefully) not going to keep all that long? Or, rather, do I just knuckle under and apply for some pathetic secretarial job I may very well end up hating?
Hmmmmmm . . .
However, there seems to be a prejudice against me, somehow. I've applied for about 7 positions, most full-time but one half-time, and I was unmistakably qualified for all of them (and not overqualified, either), but I haven't heard a word from any of them. Maybe it's the fact that the mailing address currently listed is for Florida - but I did specify that I would be moving as soon as possible (i.e., as soon as I could get a job), and that I'd be happy to fly into town for an interview. Maybe it's the fact that the undergraduate degree I have bears the stigma of the liberal arts, i.e., it saith, to the unenlightened, "I did nothing nothing useful in college". Maybe it's the fact that I'm 23. I mean, old people sue for age descrimination, but to be honest, for all I can tell, they're not the ones who actually suffer from that sort of thing in the working world. Sometimes I think people see my birthyear and think, "Goodness, in 1985 I was (insert adult activity here) - she couldn't know what she was doing. That's just crazy young."
So, I am rather torn, here. Do I stall myself out in the job hunt, out of a preference for a "career" I'm (hopefully) not going to keep all that long? Or, rather, do I just knuckle under and apply for some pathetic secretarial job I may very well end up hating?
Hmmmmmm . . .
Monday, May 19, 2008
Griping
I once saw a cartoon (courtesy of Kakashi, I believe) a very long time ago, that more or less satirized all blogs as public forums for personal (and often very stereotypical) complaints.
I also recall, once, when I was having to write a persuasive speech on a subject I didn't care about, that frustration seemed to be the only surefire way of motivating my muse. If something didn't make me mad, or, moreover, if I thought that the subject was so frustrating it was pointless to talk about it anymore, I couldn't write very well.
Now, my father has held, and continues to hold, that I have a gift for the turning of phrases, and that my highschool journalistic aspirations need not and ought not be tossed aside lightly.
However, the world doesn't need another barking dog.
What I want to know is whether I will ever be virtuous enough to write (and write well) when not griping about something? Reading my old posts, I can dig up a few pithy gems which were written in good humor. However, they were all written during college.
. . .
So, in that case, let me qualify my question: will I ever, apart from a near ideal social setting, be virtuous enough to 1) want to write, and 2) write well, when I'm not complaining?
Now, truth be told, there are lots of happy things I could, theoretically, write about. However, all of my really happy things currently live in the land of potentia, and for that reason it seems to me that they ought to be treated as sacred. They ought not be written about like any other mundane thing. They should be saved up in silence until they reach actuality, right?
. . .
I also recall, once, when I was having to write a persuasive speech on a subject I didn't care about, that frustration seemed to be the only surefire way of motivating my muse. If something didn't make me mad, or, moreover, if I thought that the subject was so frustrating it was pointless to talk about it anymore, I couldn't write very well.
Now, my father has held, and continues to hold, that I have a gift for the turning of phrases, and that my highschool journalistic aspirations need not and ought not be tossed aside lightly.
However, the world doesn't need another barking dog.
What I want to know is whether I will ever be virtuous enough to write (and write well) when not griping about something? Reading my old posts, I can dig up a few pithy gems which were written in good humor. However, they were all written during college.
. . .
So, in that case, let me qualify my question: will I ever, apart from a near ideal social setting, be virtuous enough to 1) want to write, and 2) write well, when I'm not complaining?
Now, truth be told, there are lots of happy things I could, theoretically, write about. However, all of my really happy things currently live in the land of potentia, and for that reason it seems to me that they ought to be treated as sacred. They ought not be written about like any other mundane thing. They should be saved up in silence until they reach actuality, right?
. . .
Student Surveys
So, I'm still processing nearly 200 student surveys for my academic library. It's very boring, and when it's not boring it's frustrating, because inevitably the students who give more than the required information state that they want the library open all night long or they want to be able to bring in their coffee and sticky rolls (we used to let them do this until the spills, sticky tables, molding food under the furniture and abandoned trash got out of hand) or they want free printing/copying (this is the Engineering dept.'s prerogative, not ours) or they want special access to the library if they're music students (the security department isn't about to let people wander in here after hours just for the sake of rehearsal rooms - especially with all of Mr. Monaghan's art all over the place. Once again, not our prerogative.), blahdity blah blah blah. Arg! students can be such little beasties. I know, more grumpy bug Emily. Grumpity grump grump grump.
However, today, one student managed to brighten the drudgery:
-How could the Library be improved? Please include any comments, ideas, or suggestions for the Library.
We need smoke machines, black lights and rave music. Oh, and free coffee, too.
Do you have any special needs or disabilities you would like the library to accommodate, and if so, how would you like them to be accommodated?
I have moderate to severe ADD and a complete lack of motivation.
Please fix that.
oh, and God bless.
LOL. I guess I'm a little less grumpy now.
However, today, one student managed to brighten the drudgery:
-How could the Library be improved? Please include any comments, ideas, or suggestions for the Library.
We need smoke machines, black lights and rave music. Oh, and free coffee, too.
Do you have any special needs or disabilities you would like the library to accommodate, and if so, how would you like them to be accommodated?
I have moderate to severe ADD and a complete lack of motivation.
Please fix that.
oh, and God bless.
LOL. I guess I'm a little less grumpy now.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
How upsetting it is
to look about me and think of the things that might have been.
BNF PARIS
HANDELINGENKAMER TWEEDE KAMER DER STATEN-GENERAAL DEN HAAG
BIBLIOTECA DE LA REAL ACADEMIA DE LA LENGUA MADRID
REAL GABINETE PORTUGUES DE LEITURA RIO DE JANEIRO
TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN
OXFORD UNIVERSITY, ENGLAND
STRAHOVSKA KNIHOVNA PRAHA
RIJKMUSEUM AMSTERDAM
STIFTSBIBLIOTHEK ST. GALLEN
BNF PARIS
HANDELINGENKAMER TWEEDE KAMER DER STATEN-GENERAAL DEN HAAG
BIBLIOTECA DE LA REAL ACADEMIA DE LA LENGUA MADRID
REAL GABINETE PORTUGUES DE LEITURA RIO DE JANEIRO
TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN
OXFORD UNIVERSITY, ENGLAND
STRAHOVSKA KNIHOVNA PRAHA
RIJKMUSEUM AMSTERDAM
STIFTSBIBLIOTHEK ST. GALLEN
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Grumpy
Really, this is getting out of hand. I am WAY too grumpy these days in general, and I am WAY WAY too grumpy for a four-day weekend.
My dormpartment is a total mess.
GRUMP
I turn 23 tomorrow.
GRUMP
That blah graduation ceremony just wasted three and a half hours of our lives.
GRUMPITY GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP
. . . Maybe I should go to confession. That tends to put things in perspective. Then, as a self-inflicted penance, I can just say the serenity prayer every time I start to think a grumpy thought.
*sigh*
Maybe Fr. Fessio is in his room down the hall . . .
Friday, May 09, 2008
Using your Big Brother
This is the coolest thing I've seen in a long time. This British rock band took advantage of the insane number of TV cameras in their part of the world (one for every 14 people, or thereabouts), and cooked themselves up a music video. They performed this piece in front of cameras in about 80 different locations. Thanks to You Tube and Gizmodo for the heads-up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
