Wednesday, November 27, 2002
I went to the mall the other day to see a movie. I recommend both “Die another Day” and the AMC at the Parks.
Before I got inside there was an encounter with a Salvation Army bell ringer. I’ve never come across a better bell ringer anywhere. Mostly they just sit there, looking sad and “ding, ding, ding (pause) ding” their bell. But not this guy, he saw me coming from across the parking lot and revved up (because he was still going from the last person who had walked by) his bell-in-each-hand-ring-a-ling-a-ling-ling-ling-sidewalk dance. His energy in the cold was well worth a dollar in the pot. He was nearly as entertaining as the movie.
The mall is a happening place these days what with a new cinema, skating rink, eateries and stores. Of course all the clothing stores had the same stuff . . . so I didn’t go into clothing stores- I did go into “The Great Indoors” a home improvement/décor store that seemingly never ends and where I found a shower head (not that I’m shopping for a shower heads) that cost upwards of $1,600. $1,600 for a showerhead?! Granted it was made of pewter and was as big as a dinner plate, but still . . . I could do a lot with $1,600. While I was still thinking about this showerhead I moved on to the “Knife Shoppe” where they were sporting swords upwards of $1,600.
I was standing there looking at $1,600 swords, thinking about $1,600 showerheads and wondering where in life I’d have to be to even think about considering purchasing such items. Alternatively, what would I do with a random extra $1,600? It’s hard to say . . . it is half price day at Goodwill today. :0)
Before I got inside there was an encounter with a Salvation Army bell ringer. I’ve never come across a better bell ringer anywhere. Mostly they just sit there, looking sad and “ding, ding, ding (pause) ding” their bell. But not this guy, he saw me coming from across the parking lot and revved up (because he was still going from the last person who had walked by) his bell-in-each-hand-ring-a-ling-a-ling-ling-ling-sidewalk dance. His energy in the cold was well worth a dollar in the pot. He was nearly as entertaining as the movie.
The mall is a happening place these days what with a new cinema, skating rink, eateries and stores. Of course all the clothing stores had the same stuff . . . so I didn’t go into clothing stores- I did go into “The Great Indoors” a home improvement/décor store that seemingly never ends and where I found a shower head (not that I’m shopping for a shower heads) that cost upwards of $1,600. $1,600 for a showerhead?! Granted it was made of pewter and was as big as a dinner plate, but still . . . I could do a lot with $1,600. While I was still thinking about this showerhead I moved on to the “Knife Shoppe” where they were sporting swords upwards of $1,600.
I was standing there looking at $1,600 swords, thinking about $1,600 showerheads and wondering where in life I’d have to be to even think about considering purchasing such items. Alternatively, what would I do with a random extra $1,600? It’s hard to say . . . it is half price day at Goodwill today. :0)
Saturday, November 23, 2002
I went to see my first Indian movie last night. It was so fun. I think it may have had more to do with the audience than the movie though. It was a romance (of course) where the young people fall in love, but the father (Babuji) of the girl insists she take part in an arranged marriage to a stranger . . . but how can she go on living with out her lover? Her lover is considered a 'westeral' by her Babuji (I don't know what a westeral is either, but something bad, maybe a cross between a rascal and a weasle) and the father will never approve the match.
The whole movie had the air of a never ending Mentos comercial, complete with cocky-smiling young man, pearly white teeth, head tilted to the side and a thumbs up for every accomplishment made.
But the audience (it's safe to say I was a minority white girl) was awesome. When the female main character danced in the rain singing about the perfect man she is waiting for (as all young women do) the men in the audience whistled and yelled out comments (in Urdu or Hindi so I'm not exactly sure what they said, but I have a pretty good guess from what was on the screen and how the rest of the audience reacted.) When the main male character proved his prowess on screen by scoring in rugby, slam dunking the basket ball and driving a fast car to graduation-- all the women in the audience screamed, and my friend leaned over to let me know this young actor was the "heart throb" of India.
It was an older movie, from the mid 90s. I'm sure most of the audience had seen it, most likely several times. I don't remember the name, something about the groom shall come for the bride . . . This movie came no where near the precision Hollywood gives to its movies-- but it was completely enjoyable for me because it was completely enjoyed by the rest of the audience.
Maybe I'm a crowd follower in the area of Indian movies.
The whole movie had the air of a never ending Mentos comercial, complete with cocky-smiling young man, pearly white teeth, head tilted to the side and a thumbs up for every accomplishment made.
But the audience (it's safe to say I was a minority white girl) was awesome. When the female main character danced in the rain singing about the perfect man she is waiting for (as all young women do) the men in the audience whistled and yelled out comments (in Urdu or Hindi so I'm not exactly sure what they said, but I have a pretty good guess from what was on the screen and how the rest of the audience reacted.) When the main male character proved his prowess on screen by scoring in rugby, slam dunking the basket ball and driving a fast car to graduation-- all the women in the audience screamed, and my friend leaned over to let me know this young actor was the "heart throb" of India.
It was an older movie, from the mid 90s. I'm sure most of the audience had seen it, most likely several times. I don't remember the name, something about the groom shall come for the bride . . . This movie came no where near the precision Hollywood gives to its movies-- but it was completely enjoyable for me because it was completely enjoyed by the rest of the audience.
Maybe I'm a crowd follower in the area of Indian movies.
Thursday, November 21, 2002
I took a “psychic test”. When the page first opened up, I was looking for the directions for the test, I didn’t see them anywhere on the page, and then I thought, “Wait, is this part of the test? Am I just supposed to know what to do?” I thought about it for a little while, didn’t come up with anything, figuring I wasn’t psychic but I clicked on the first graphic anyway, which (don’t I feel sheepish) led to the directions for the first test.
The first test was a “precognition” test. I was to click one of four boxes, guessing which one was going to be chosen randomly as the correct box. I did it 75 times (it went really fast, maybe 4 minutes tops for the whole set) I got 31% correct. That is 95 to 1 odds of guessing right. I was ranked # 5 of 120 people who had taken the test that day. Whoo-hoo! I’m semi-psychic!
On the next test I was to choose the correct card (which had already been chosen), and if I didn’t get it, I was to keep on guessing until I got it. For some reason, I didn’t do so hot on that one. I don’t know what the difference was but I missed almost every time. I ended up with .2 to 1 odds ranked # 61 of 82 people who took the test that day.
For remote viewing I started out really well, I was supposed to guess what picture was going to be shown. I got the first one right on (food on a table) I missed the next 6. I was ranked # 20 of 57.
On the last test I was feeling psychic again. I was to look at a blank square, pick a spot on the square where I thought the “target” was (it was a little itty bitty target). After I guessed, the target showed up to let me know how far off I was. I ended up with 12 to 1 odds, ranked # 4 of 86. Supposedly people good at this test didn't get lost and/or find lost things quickly. What I don’t understand is why after such a ranking, I am always freaking lost and looking for something I put somewhere "safe"?!
Maybe I should ask a psychic.
The first test was a “precognition” test. I was to click one of four boxes, guessing which one was going to be chosen randomly as the correct box. I did it 75 times (it went really fast, maybe 4 minutes tops for the whole set) I got 31% correct. That is 95 to 1 odds of guessing right. I was ranked # 5 of 120 people who had taken the test that day. Whoo-hoo! I’m semi-psychic!
On the next test I was to choose the correct card (which had already been chosen), and if I didn’t get it, I was to keep on guessing until I got it. For some reason, I didn’t do so hot on that one. I don’t know what the difference was but I missed almost every time. I ended up with .2 to 1 odds ranked # 61 of 82 people who took the test that day.
For remote viewing I started out really well, I was supposed to guess what picture was going to be shown. I got the first one right on (food on a table) I missed the next 6. I was ranked # 20 of 57.
On the last test I was feeling psychic again. I was to look at a blank square, pick a spot on the square where I thought the “target” was (it was a little itty bitty target). After I guessed, the target showed up to let me know how far off I was. I ended up with 12 to 1 odds, ranked # 4 of 86. Supposedly people good at this test didn't get lost and/or find lost things quickly. What I don’t understand is why after such a ranking, I am always freaking lost and looking for something I put somewhere "safe"?!
Maybe I should ask a psychic.
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
It's getting more and more complicated-- I never wanted a higher education, I just wanted a job that didn't suck. Now I'm trying to figure out how to get this done asap. I need four semesters of under graduate language study. I have two. I remember nothing. So, I could try to remember all the things I've forgotten (not sure I ever really understood in the first place) and take two more upper level semesters of Greek, or I can just start over.
To start over, I can try to find a place that teaches a language I want to learn, at a time I can take it, (Seems the University of Utah has a summer Farsi program) or I can take French. French-- France doesn't call to me. French doen't give me much intrinsic motivation-- "Hey! I want to learn French so I can talk to . . . French people . . .so I can go to . . . France?" Okay, I know Canada, North Africa, Lebenon . . . I can talk myself into French because I took it in high school. I can't even try to talk myself into other languages I'm not interested in.
le français n'est pas parlé ici
To start over, I can try to find a place that teaches a language I want to learn, at a time I can take it, (Seems the University of Utah has a summer Farsi program) or I can take French. French-- France doesn't call to me. French doen't give me much intrinsic motivation-- "Hey! I want to learn French so I can talk to . . . French people . . .so I can go to . . . France?" Okay, I know Canada, North Africa, Lebenon . . . I can talk myself into French because I took it in high school. I can't even try to talk myself into other languages I'm not interested in.
le français n'est pas parlé ici
Thursday, November 14, 2002
All my new toys work today :0) I am now the proud owner of a working computer, digital camera, scanner, printer and copier (a fax machine too I think) I have picture programs I don't know how to use, and I am ready to take on the world with all my (okay still behind the times, but new to me) technology.
I had a technological break through like this a few years ago too, I got a bunch of new toys all at once and I got to make some really fun things. This time, unfortunately, I won't have as much time to dedicate to learning how to use my toys. This time I have to work and go to class, as opposed to being locked in my house with the curtains drawn so nobody "gets" me. This time I'm not living in a "dangerous for you" Islamic nation where (according to my employers) I couldn't go outside alone because someone might look at me, or touch me or drop a bomb on me. Ahhh . . . those were the days.
Thinking of those days made me think of Cha-cha-gee. I don't even know what that man's name was. We called him Cha-cha-gee, I was told it meant Uncle-uncle-sir. He was our house guard; we had to have a house guard 24/7 because we were vulnerable, single, American women living alone in an Islamic nation.
Cha-cha was a tall, dark older man with a beautiful oiled beard and blue eyeliner. When he smiled his whole face wrinkled up, delighted. I never understood a single word he said. Nine months, not one word. But on Fridays, I knew what he wanted. He would approch me with an odd mixture of Pushto, Urdu and sign language. He said his prayers faithfully, I watched him sometimes from the balcony. Stand, bow- face to the ground and he would do something I never had seen before. While standing he would put his fingers near his ears and wiggle them around . . . I was told later that was to keep the evil spirits away while he prayed. On Fridays he wanted to go to the mosque to pray.
Our guard was never supposed to leave the grounds while he was on duty. Those were his orders from the man (my supervisor) who hired him. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask, and my two house mates has both told him "no" when he had asked before. But he also knew he could ask me if no one else was around. I would look to be sure my house mates were gone, and I would smile and nod my head.
He would come back an hour later all smiley and wrinkly . . . delighted.
Who was I to keep him from God? Anyway I figured if any one broke in to rape and pillage me at the hour of prayer--well, if they were that determined, they could have got past a napping house guard anyway.
I had a technological break through like this a few years ago too, I got a bunch of new toys all at once and I got to make some really fun things. This time, unfortunately, I won't have as much time to dedicate to learning how to use my toys. This time I have to work and go to class, as opposed to being locked in my house with the curtains drawn so nobody "gets" me. This time I'm not living in a "dangerous for you" Islamic nation where (according to my employers) I couldn't go outside alone because someone might look at me, or touch me or drop a bomb on me. Ahhh . . . those were the days.
Thinking of those days made me think of Cha-cha-gee. I don't even know what that man's name was. We called him Cha-cha-gee, I was told it meant Uncle-uncle-sir. He was our house guard; we had to have a house guard 24/7 because we were vulnerable, single, American women living alone in an Islamic nation.
Cha-cha was a tall, dark older man with a beautiful oiled beard and blue eyeliner. When he smiled his whole face wrinkled up, delighted. I never understood a single word he said. Nine months, not one word. But on Fridays, I knew what he wanted. He would approch me with an odd mixture of Pushto, Urdu and sign language. He said his prayers faithfully, I watched him sometimes from the balcony. Stand, bow- face to the ground and he would do something I never had seen before. While standing he would put his fingers near his ears and wiggle them around . . . I was told later that was to keep the evil spirits away while he prayed. On Fridays he wanted to go to the mosque to pray.
Our guard was never supposed to leave the grounds while he was on duty. Those were his orders from the man (my supervisor) who hired him. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask, and my two house mates has both told him "no" when he had asked before. But he also knew he could ask me if no one else was around. I would look to be sure my house mates were gone, and I would smile and nod my head.
He would come back an hour later all smiley and wrinkly . . . delighted.
Who was I to keep him from God? Anyway I figured if any one broke in to rape and pillage me at the hour of prayer--well, if they were that determined, they could have got past a napping house guard anyway.
Okay, I admit it! I'm a little addicted to the quizes!
Which book of the Bible are you?
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Which book of the Bible are you?
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I still believe
When we’ve all grown up, when we are too old for fairytales, fables, miracles and myths, when the prophet, mystic and dervish no longer speak rhyming riddles in our ears, when the magic show is discredited and we teach ourselves objective, logical, empirical 'truth' . . . where will we find poetry, story, life? Where will we be found? Where will a soul take comfort?
When we’ve all grown up, when we are too old for fairytales, fables, miracles and myths, when the prophet, mystic and dervish no longer speak rhyming riddles in our ears, when the magic show is discredited and we teach ourselves objective, logical, empirical 'truth' . . . where will we find poetry, story, life? Where will we be found? Where will a soul take comfort?
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
I went to a "Who created whom" debate. The theists, atheists and the agnostics all went in and came out with their opinions intact. I came out with a few interesting quotes.
The skeptic: "Any sufficiently advanced ET intelligence is indistinguishable from God."
Skeptic: “Ets will not be like what we see on Star Trek. They will not be like us with gnarly things on their heads who speak English with an Indian accent.”
Skeptic: “What do you get if you cross an atheist with a Jehovah’s Witness?’ Someone knocking on your door for no reason.” :0)
God guy: “Torturing babies and flying planes into buildings is wrong. If you don’t think these things are indisputably wrong, you are wrong.” (Question from Shannon: If God tells you to do something “wrong” is it still wrong?)
God guy: “Historical evidence doesn’t have to be perfect, only good enough.”
Question from the audience for God guy: “Is God an atheist?”
God guy: “Hmmmm . . . well, I’d have to say the answer is No . . . “
(Skeptic shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head)
Question from the audience for Skeptic: “It seems events like this only bring more disagreement among us, so how should believers and non-believers get along?”\
Skeptic: “Beer and Pizza. I believe adult beverages are needed after events such as this.”
God guy: “I agree.”
God guy: “There are infinities, but not physically.”
The skeptic: "Any sufficiently advanced ET intelligence is indistinguishable from God."
Skeptic: “Ets will not be like what we see on Star Trek. They will not be like us with gnarly things on their heads who speak English with an Indian accent.”
Skeptic: “What do you get if you cross an atheist with a Jehovah’s Witness?’ Someone knocking on your door for no reason.” :0)
God guy: “Torturing babies and flying planes into buildings is wrong. If you don’t think these things are indisputably wrong, you are wrong.” (Question from Shannon: If God tells you to do something “wrong” is it still wrong?)
God guy: “Historical evidence doesn’t have to be perfect, only good enough.”
Question from the audience for God guy: “Is God an atheist?”
God guy: “Hmmmm . . . well, I’d have to say the answer is No . . . “
(Skeptic shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head)
Question from the audience for Skeptic: “It seems events like this only bring more disagreement among us, so how should believers and non-believers get along?”\
Skeptic: “Beer and Pizza. I believe adult beverages are needed after events such as this.”
God guy: “I agree.”
God guy: “There are infinities, but not physically.”
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
What's YOUR Writing Style?
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You are a descriptive writer. An avid reader of Robert Frost, perhaps, you LOVE to use flowery words and use the paper and pen as your canvas and paintbrush. You prefer to paint a mental image rather than simply toy around with people's minds. A very inspired person, you love to be in nature and usually are a very outdoorsy type of person. A writer with a natural green thumb, perhaps?
The Greek Festival was a bust. The food, (which although looked yummy enough) was way expensive,(turned out to be a church fund-raiser) and they had already run out of vegetarian mousaka, so what was the point? There were alot of people there, I extimate 90% non-Greek, non orthodox-- I suspect they were mostly Southern Baptists looking for some Saturday night grub, being unwilling to wait for the Sunday night church pot-luck.
The music was okay, the dancing was sub-par and the costumes, well they didn't want to make me cry out "opa!" to say the least. The icons didn't inspire me and the pillars were dissapointing. While I wanted to blow out the prayer candles, one of my companions wanted to steal the offering and the other was offended we (girls) couldn't approach the alter so she suggested we "dance naked" on it.
In the end we settled for a New York style pizza and Harry Potter. Does that count as an intercultural religious experierence?
The music was okay, the dancing was sub-par and the costumes, well they didn't want to make me cry out "opa!" to say the least. The icons didn't inspire me and the pillars were dissapointing. While I wanted to blow out the prayer candles, one of my companions wanted to steal the offering and the other was offended we (girls) couldn't approach the alter so she suggested we "dance naked" on it.
In the end we settled for a New York style pizza and Harry Potter. Does that count as an intercultural religious experierence?
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
Sunday, November 03, 2002
I didn’t really have anywhere to go Thursday, but I decided since I had a car, I could find someplace. So, I got in the car, and decided to take inventory before I started out on my first solo adventure in some time.
After I’d discovered almost $5.00 in change in the ashtray, I decided to head to the Greek place down the street to celebrate my good fortune with a falafel combo. While I was waiting for my food, I started thinking about the other things that I had found. I’d found a lady’s watch that no longer kept time, ten hair pins, a scratched out grocery list, three pens and a coin from Thailand. I found a set of directions under the driver’s seat and a can of pepper spray under the passenger’s. I didn’t bother to go through the glove compartment before I threw everything I couldn’t use in there.
I wondered if I should feel bad about being the beneficiary of a divorce. I do feel bad. Not for my gain, but for their loss. No matter how okay they say they each are about it, I can’t believe them. I can’t believe it even from this couple I never stood in the same room with. Even though I know next to nothing about their relationship or their lives together, I can’t believe it’s okay. Divorced is just another word for broken hearted, I know that’s not okay.
It doesn’t matter what they say.
But I can’t dwell on broken hearts too long. It makes me lose my optimistic focus for the future, it makes me remember my own brokeness, it makes me wonder how I’ll make it though my next broken heart.
So I shake my head and consider the irony of my situation, about how I couldn’t come up with a better fiction of how I came to drive this car.
I’m driving my ex-boyfriend’s ex-wife’s ex-car.
I was driving down the highway the other day when I suddenly had the sensation that I was on the wrong side of the car. Not the wrong side of the road, but actually driving on the wrong side of the car. It only lasted a moment. Afterwards I tried to figure out if it was a result of being a passenger for so long or some sort of Cypriot flashback.
This car I’m using. It was dark when I went to get it, and there wasn’t any parking anywhere near my apartment when I got home, so I parked way over on the east side of nowhere. When I walked back out there the next morning I realized I didn’t even know
what color the car was, let alone exactly where I had parked it. It took me a while, but I found it. It’s blue.
This car I’m using. It was dark when I went to get it, and there wasn’t any parking anywhere near my apartment when I got home, so I parked way over on the east side of nowhere. When I walked back out there the next morning I realized I didn’t even know
what color the car was, let alone exactly where I had parked it. It took me a while, but I found it. It’s blue.
I think my computer is against me. After faithful service all these years, it’s finally giving up. *sigh* Okay everyone out there, if you believe hard enough my computer will start working correctly again, if you clap your hands and give the Care Bear Stare it will all work out! Just believe! Believe!
Friday, November 01, 2002
I don't have any problem saying I believe everything in the Bible is "gospel truth" (gospel: concerning the message of Christ, the kingdom of God and salvation.) Not literally true, not exclusively true, but it is true to my understanding of God, relationship with him and relationship with men. We've been given the right, even the responsibility within relationship, to interpret, reinterpret, understand, (at least really try to understand) and embrace what resources we have. Including the text. As people of God, we have been blessed (word not used lightly) with a wealth of written information, to help us gain the slightest glimpse of an indescribable entity. To me, the "gospel truth" of the Bible is shaded and nuanced, not changing in the times, but shifting within our understandings. It's beautiful in its art, engaging and repelling at the same time.
Honestly, I don't like reading the Bible (gasp from the audience) but I love to search it out, probe it, question it, and examine details. I love to hear it, learn it, say it, sing it, study it--know it.
I'll spare you all the reasons I proclaim thusly, it's more than enough that it is known it is easy to believe this way.
Honestly, I don't like reading the Bible (gasp from the audience) but I love to search it out, probe it, question it, and examine details. I love to hear it, learn it, say it, sing it, study it--know it.
I'll spare you all the reasons I proclaim thusly, it's more than enough that it is known it is easy to believe this way.
Congratulations, you're New Orleans, the wild city.
What US city are you? Take the quiz by Girlwithagun.
Rich with stunning beauty, this city glows with bright colours by day and is hung with seductive mists by night. They say no-one lives in New Orleans, but that it lives inside the people. Exotic, beautiful and dangerous; it is a city of extremes. Decadent hotels, historic buildings and crafty criminals inhabit the same streets. From the towering oaks in city park to the magnificent French quarter, every corner of this city is a breath-taking panorama of mysteries. Anyone who visits this city cannot help but take a piece of her home in their heart.
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