Like a Guinea Pig In a Dress, Such is the Life of a Blogwhore

Last week my sister-in-law called asking what my husband wanted for Christmas, as her pickled alien-fetus source has fallen through - I got some ideas from your blog about it, she tells me.

Another friend tells me she reads my blog once in a while and likes how I try to present both sides of an issue, where she knows which side I am probably on, but I look at both. Really, I'm never 100% sure where I stand, but if I come across as "open minded" or whatnot, well, bully for me.

My brother-in-law said something to the effect that through my blog he feels like he is right there with as we tiddlywink along in life.

My mother and mother-in-law have commented on an entry once or twice.

My husband reads every entry (to find out what I REALLY think of him) and although he originally vowed never to comment, now he does, but only 3 words at a time.

So I get the feeling that most of the people who kind of know me read my blog ... but they don't feel inclined to respond via comment or email or start a blog of their own and tell me where it is so I can read all their crazy ramblings.

And once in a while a random stranger will leave a comment - oh joy oh rapture.

I guess it is one thing to write and be read anonymously by X number of people and quite another to be read and have someone say something about what you wrote. What I really want is one of those tally boards on my page to see exactly how many souls have stopped by and visited the inner depths of my mind.

Can you even imagine what it must be like to be like JK Rowlings and know everyone has read your stuff?! And everyone has an opinion about your work ... eh, it was Okay, not a masterpiece, just a good read OR I loved it so much I read it 13 times in a row.

WEll, I like it that friends and strangers take time to read my often nonsensical utterances. I like it a lot. The longer I live I realize how little I know, I used to think I was really smart ... compared to my peers, back in 4th grade. Now I know there are people who know things, whose thought are organized in ways I can not began to grasp. Whose minds think deeper and faster than my silly one will ever be capable of. That is, I think, part of why I so enjoy teaching children. I get to feel smart, by comparison. At least sometimes.

And you know, there are a lot of things I don't write about that I want to write about because I am scared of offending people who read this. Perhaps there is a way around all that. hmmm.

As always, With Love,

B

My First First Kiss of the New Year - 1995

Aw, the awkwardness of it all. At the unripe, young age of 16, I was completely unaware that there is a tradition that, just after the stroke of midnight on New Year's Day, one is EXPECTED to plant a big sloppy kiss on whomever they happened to have agree to go to a New Year's party with. I guess I should have known, at that age, but I didn't.

SO. There I am at D. W.'s (I guess the innocent can remain nameless for once) New Year's extravaganza with my (I hesitate to use the term) boyfriend (ew), B. A. I don't remember what I wore, but I am sure I agonized about it beforehand. I was picked up in D. W.'s very old and very cold convertible (a car designed with California summers, not, I repeat NOT, Idaho winters, in mind). D.W. and his girl sat in front, by the heater, and B.A. and I shivered in the tiny back seat. Once we got there, there was a rousing game of "Do You Love Your Neighbor" all ready in progress. Additional chairs were found for us (I remember feeling like everyone was looking at me and there were like 50 somewhat familiar faces from school).

Do You Love Your Neighbor is a party game where everyone sits in a circle with one person in the middle. We played it where the circle would ask, "Do you love your neighbor?" And the person in the middle says, "Yes, I love my neighbor, especially if ..." and adds some detail, like "especially if they are wearing clean underwear." Then, everyone wearing clean underwear has to stand up and find a new chair, the person in the middle takes a chair and a new person, someone too slow and stupid to sit in a chair, is stuck in the middle. Sure, it sounds fun enough, but I was just horribly shy and terrified of being in the middle and much too nice to push someone out of the way to steal their chair ... it was dreadful. I was in the middle 3 glorious times.

Later we played capture the flag outside on a huge side yard. I greatly appreciated the anonymity. I spent a great deal of time in the "jail" waiting to be "rescued" by my team. I never saw anything resembling a flag of any sort.

Now, it was nearing midnight and all gathered back into the house. The New Year was counted down and the party erupted in noisy chaos. I, however, somehow, found myself secreted away to some quiet, lonely part of the house with Mr. B. A., all looking at me and holding my icy hand in his. "What?!" I said, feeling uncomfortable and defensive. And then, yes, he leaned.

If anyone knows me, they know I have a tendency to be painfully blunt. When B. A. first asked me to go out (gulp) with him I said, "Do you mean like, Friday night or like boyfriend/girlfriend?" He said, "Like boyfriend/girlfriend." And I said, "No." and the bell rang and we went our separate ways. I was later convinced by some well meaning friends that I did want to be boyfriend/girlfriend with him and, after much uncomfortable expression of "true feelings," all was" worked out." Leading up to New Year's.

And now, there we were, me all uncomfortable and him, all leaning. My truthiness kicked in and I said, "I'm not going to kiss you, I'm just not." Pain, hurt, disappointment (?) cross his face. He explains how he and his good buddy, host of the shindig, D.W., had each planned to kiss their individual girls at midnight, according to tradition. "Tradition? What tradition?" Oh, yes, he has to explain THE tradition to me. I'm stupid, I confess to him, I'm sorry. But, now, the moment has passed, people are coming back into this quiet area and I'm sure he has little or no desire to kiss any girl ever again.

Fast forward two years, I'm home from college for Christmas break. I see him with his boyfriend at my friendly neighborhood associated grocery store.

Yeah. So that's the kind of girl I am.

U Can SaVe Her - Why Time Travel Movies Fail

Hate me if you must, but I detest Denzel Washington movies. I have never seen one I like and I admit I only recall seeing two. Other people may get excited in anticipation for his next new film, but his movies just don't work for me. Where there is room for some potential, there is also room for great disappointment.

Deja Vous does not fail because the science is silly, wishful, and contrived; I don't really believe in science at all anyway, so I'll go along with any fantasy they want to call science as long as it furthers the plot. Deja Vous does not fail because it has a happy ending, the hero saves they day, even if he doesn't remember doing it and his other self is dead under the water. It's not the plot holes or paradoxes (paradoxi, paradoxia). It fails because it tampers with fate and destiny and everyone lives happily ever after.

The purpose behind time travel movies is to show us that there is a method to God's madness, that He is on control and there are no mistakes - if you go back and change something, that too was taken into account and part of The plan. You can't mention a "plan" or "fate" and then throw it all away as though the old reality was all wrong ... the bad things that happen have to happen because they are the best somehow.

So - the show starts out, Denzel is a sassy smart guy who has to "play the game" with his incompetent superiors, putting it all together, but not taking credit. He's well on his way to discovering the culprit responsible for terrible incident with some scene to show how brilliant this character is. He's so brilliant he knows all about chemistry stuff, but nothing about the so-called theoretical physics behind Back to the Future. There is a lovely corpse with some hacked off fingers and he falls in love with her (tho she is young enough to possible be Denzel's granddaughter in real life). Then there's the pseudo science stuff, the messing with history, the changes that produce the same results as the current history. The going back in time, the realizing that a sacrifice must be made for the greater good, the choice to make said sacrifice, but then, stupidly, they all live happily ever after. Alive and well. Leaving me empty and unsatisfied.

Now, I am well aware that American audiences do not do well with sad endings. But we're okay when they are done well, at least I am. We accept that Spiderman can't have Mary Jane, that Clark can't have Lois, that King Kong dies, that Romeo and Juliet die, the Titanic sinks and Jack dies, Spock dies (*sniff); when people have to make a choice and make a sacrifice, it is noble and right and we deal with the choice, secure in the knowledge that what was done was for the greater good. When it looks like a sacrifice is made, but then everyone lives happily ever after ... it's cheating.

SO, the movie mostly sucks (in an okay, decent, and completely watchable way) and I still don't believe in time travel.

Death Be Not Proud

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Have you ever thought you were an intelligent women? Or aspired to be such, even if you fell short in your own estimation? If so, see the movie Wit with Emma Thompson. It was a TV movie, but I got it through Netflix and it is, to say the least, a profound and touching movie. Plots and characters are irrelevent mostly, they are just to entertain the mind. Theme is the thing to feed your soul. What universal truths are brought to light; what touches your heart and makes you want to change and be better?

This movie is about a tough English professor who gets ovarian cancer and dies.

IT is also about John Donne Poetry, which I adore not only because I despise formal, set spelling and Donne came before Wester and spelling was part of the creative process (now I shall not feal soo inklined to spel check) - one of those the enemy of my enemy is my friend things. BUT his poetry is thought provoking and elegant and lots of other adjectives that won't come close to describing it.

I have to admit, I am just not smart enough to critique this film. It was brilliant and I bask in its elloquence. It made me remember that kindness, simple acts of love, are of greater value than any thing. It made me realize we are all subject to our mortal coils and that almost certainly, there will be a time in our lives when we be completely undignified, we will lose all capacity for pride and will be supremely humbled. At that point it will not matter how smart or beautiful we once were. All that we will want is to know we are loved, to have some kindred spirit with which to make human contact.

My husband found it entirely boring and I thought it was a magnificent work of art. I laughed, I cried, it became a part of me. Really. It was just lovely.

Did Bad Dental Hygene Contibute To Anakin's Conversion to Evil?

You know how little kids love to reenact movies, TV, grown-ups, whatever they see? Yes, well my 4 yr old is absolutely obsessed with Star Wars right now and his favorite scene to reenact is the scene in episode 3 where Obi-wan and Anakin fight on that lava planet and Ob-wan cuts off Anakin's arms and legs and leaves him to fry and die, like so much KFC. Yeah, its pretty violent for a 4 yr old, blame his daddy, If it were up to me he would still be all about Pooh Bear and Piglet, Little Einsteins, and Handy Manny. My HUSBAND showed him Star Wars and generations of strong geek genes were activated.

So, we'll be fighting along with our toy light sabers (he has 4) and he'll say "O.K. now cut off my hands," then, "now cut off my legs." He falls to the floor and grunts and groans a bit. Then he says, "Now say 'You are the chosen one.'" Then Crichton starts ad libbing something like "I was gonna try to kill you, but you are gonna kill me. I chose the dark side, you never listened to me." Then he cries in pain and says, "AAAAAahhhhh I'm BBQing." And then we start over again. This time I am Anakin and I feel free to ad lib, too. Things like, "Obi-wan you were a terrible Jedi Master and you have halitosis. Go brush your teeth." And, "Obi-wan has smelly feet. If your feet weren't so stinky I would never have gone to the dark side." Then I childishly chant "Obi-wan is a stinky stinkerton" ... and such.

Sometimes I wonder if this is healthy for him. Sometimes I wonder how much he'll have to spend on therapy. I wonder what he'd be doing if I worked and he was in day care. Would any adults engage him and play with him, remind him not to lose his temper, it's just a game and keep him inside the acceptable lines of boy style play-violence without getting too rough? Or would he be slicing up his playmates, whacking them with all his Jedi might, and then get in trouble for playing too rough? Or would he be expected to play quietly like a girl?

If you can't stay home and raise them, don't have them. If being a full time mom is not in your agenda, just have your career and be happy, you don't have to do both at the same time. If you try to do it all, you will fail ... you will be tired all the time and angry and frustrated. You only have 100% of you, if you split it up on job, wife, kids, housework, church, stuff, and self, there's just not enough of you to go around. You can be a mom now, dedicate this part of your life to the kids and make them happy (and you'll be happy too), then have a career later and be happy.

Balance your life. Like yoga. You have to breath. It might not feel like your doing much, but you are. Baby says its nap time. Gotta go.

Today is Wednesday

My husband thinks he only has to work 2 more days this year. MMMWWWWwwwaaaaHAha ahahahahhhaa.

I'd like to redo the master bathroom floors and paint. And when I saw "I'd like to" I mean "he will have to help me."

The garage needs some help. I can't park in it anymore.

The basement ... we need to draw up the plans and submit them to the city, then have it framed, sheet rock it, plumb it, electrify it, heat/air it, and whatever else it takes to finish a basement. It may not be done by the end of the year, but we could make some progress. We have to. We took out a loan on the equity to finish the basement to get more equity, so we have to put some equity into the house.

We really need to make a couple trips to the dump to get rid of accumulated garbage.

And when I say we ... yeah, he.

Meanwhile I will continue to drown in dirty laundry and continuously do dishes and cook and take care of children (wait, I don't cook the children, I just missed the comma. I don NOT cook children). I won't have a day off for a couple decades. It's all fair.

Family time together.

RS Women

Sometimes Relief Society is just plain silly. In my mind it should be all about serving those in need (the poor, sick, all over the world) but usually it is about making cute crafts and sharing "good news." To be fair, I haven't gone regularly like ever ... well, not for more than a year or so. But when I do go, rather than doing anything ... it's about feeling better about yourself. The last couple of RS I have attended have this "Good News" tradition, where the ladies tell the good and happy things that happened to them this week - I pregnant, my husband got a raise, my kid won some contest. Oh how nice for you ... RS is only 40 minutes long, once a week, we want to spend that precious time rejoicing? Probably we want to, but is that the best use of the time?

There is a scripture I adore in Mosiah 18:
8 And it came to pass that he said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon (for thus were they called) and now, as ye are ^adesirous to come into the ^bfold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;

9 Yea, and are ^awilling to mourn with those that ^bmourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as ^cwitnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the ^dfirst resurrection, that ye may have eternal life—

10 Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being ^abaptized in the ^bname of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a ^ccovenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?

11 And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.

It doesn't say to celebrate with those that have good news ... it says mourn and comfort those who mourn or are in need of comfort. Not that RS should be a pity party ... I don't know. I just don't think the regular, non-leadership members of the church are doing much. Much at all beyond their jobs, watching TV, being superficially Christian.

Instead of organizing a trip to the Pioneer Quilt Museum ... couldn't we learn to make some quilts for cold orphans? Instead of having a special RS luncheon, could we make and serve lunch at a homeless shelter? And can we totally do away with no-kids activities? Yeah, it's nice to get away, but sometimes we can't get away without them ... call me and 3 other women to run nurseries and we'll take turns, once every other month is better than nothing.

Maybe the problem is just ME. I want others to take on the hard part (planning) and I'll show up, unless I forget. They used to have monthly enrichment nights, now it's just quarterly and still the attendance is low. They have encouraged the sisters themselves to organize groups and DO stuff (we have play group, scrap booking, book club, and walking club - oh the relief we bring to the world). Perhaps I just need to organize a monthly service project. Of course if no one else shows up... I have such lofty goals ... such lovely ideas to help and serve. And I can't even get up before 7. I suck.

All talk, all criticism, no action. Don't point fingers, there's always more pointing back at you.

Real Age

Took a random internet test to see what my "real age" is. You can try it too, here. My calendar age is 28.6 (so old, so young, so old), my "real age" is 28.0 - and I hardly lied at all. While sometimes I feel much antagonism approaching hate for the youth-centeredness of society, all make-up, plastic surgery, and lotions and pills and botox and such ... other times I think, why not - young beautiful ... but ... today I'm thinking we should wear our wrinkles as a badge of honor. These wrinkles came from years of smiling, these from the pain of lost loved ones, from studying hard and getting good grades, from staying up all night when my baby was sick, from furrowing my brow too often, from squinting too much when I forget my glasses. They are mine ... botox them away ... nah ... I'll just use lotion and enjoy the effects of gravity.

The best part of my real age outcome was this suggestion: "Start each meal with a bit of dessert or a small slice of bread with olive oil. A little fat slows the emptying of your stomach, making you feel fuller faster." I have always thought we should have dessert first ... now it is scientifically confirmed. Wahoo! Now it says, a bit or small slice ... not a whopping half a pie, I'm great with that. Mmmm, first the cake, then the dinner, screw the salad, no, have salad for dessert, then you just keep eating and eating until the lettuce wilts.

The other suggestion I liked was:" Drink adequate amounts of water at mealtime. Aim for 6 to 8 glasses of water per day with meals. A couple of glasses of water with a meal can help prevent you from overeating." See, I thought we were just supposed to drink 6-8 glasses of water, anytime. But lately, I found that if I start the day off with a big glass of water, I drink more water all day. And I used to try to drink water between meals and reward my self with juice or pop at meals ... but if I give myself water AND a small juice or milk or something else, I drink the water and eat less food. Plus, I've heard that simply eating less calories makes you live longer. Like 1,500-1,800 or less a day, not the 2,000-2,200 or more average. Sounds good. Water, water, water. Good for you.

Sometimes my husband asks for water, but if I hand him a glass that is not "fresh," he turns up his cute stubby nose. All water is like a billion years old, isn't it? hmm... just because it came out of the tap more recently, doesn't mean there is a hydrogen-oxygen combination plant creating new water ... its all old. So there you go.

My blog is full of random streams of conscious thought. Sorry. Buy the book.

And Now It's Tuesday - New "China"

Finally, Tuesday. Tuesday is better than Monday ... not sure why.

I bought some "china." They're porcelain dishes, but they were made in China, so it counts. Coming from a family where my maternal grandma had 10 kids and my mom was the youngest girl and my paternal grandma had 6 kids where my dad was the youngest by 12 years ... I have NO hope of inheriting anyone's grandma's "china." Except maybe my mother-in-law's - but she has a daughter to give it to, and in my mind it should go to a daughter-daughter, not so much a daughter-in-law. And I didn't really get any "china" for my wedding, we were poor and young anyway. But, now, we're hosting Christmas and I have always wanted a set of real dishes, all matchy matchy and not so much Corelle (don't get me wrong, I love my Corelle, but it's not "china"). And I found some. Simple, nice, hand washing recommended, microwaves forbidden. And 80% off. There's a lovely store I just discovered called Kohl's. I recommend it. Lots of nice stuff. It the vein of TJ Maxx or something, but much higher quality. And the store smells more like a real store. All the smell at 80% off. White plates with a couple platinum bands (real platinum? I can't say, who cares. What is platinum anyway ... platinum hair, platinum records ... better than gold though it looks like silver?). And I scanned it in.

Another Monday

One more week until Christmas. 7 days. To get all the laundry washed and put away, to set up guest rooms and plan meals. And activities. To find bowls enough for everyone in a style I like (because Greg doesn't think the plastic blue ones that I have had since college are good enough anymore). And learn how to fold napkins.

Did I mention my dear husband was folding napkins last night? Yeah. He looked up napkin folding on the internet and was trying it out. I was just gonna, y'know, fold them in quarters or something (actually, I was gonna go for paper napkins, HE threw the fabric kind in the cart) now I feel like I've gotta wash and starch and fold. Who does that .. honestly .. am I just so white trash that I never knew .. or is my husband putting on hoity toity airs?

And my Christmas tree is dying. Millions of trees, every year, not to build something, not for paper, just to dry out and die as a decoration in a home.

I think I am in a bad mood. Melancholy, anyway. I was thinking of my brother, or dreaming about him maybe. About his funeral. About him in the hospital. About what it must have been like to die. At age 21. If I could have just seen him one last time, to say good bye, if I could have just been there before he was gone ... if we hadn't gotten that flat tire, if Salt Lake traffic hadn't been so bad ...

I have been thinking about how each life must have a purpose. Trying to analyze what the purpose my life may be, what other's lives where ...

I've been thinking about how very little about Christmas makes me think of Christ.

It's my fault.

Mommy Guilt

I was sent this poem yesterday and it hit me harder than it should of. It's not an especially good poem, by literary standards, but it makes me cry everytime I read it. It makes me want to be a better mom, to stop and listen better and be nicer; and that makes it a pretty amazing poem in my book.

F A M I L Y

I ran into a stranger as he passed by,

"Oh excuse me please" was my reply.

He said, "Please excuse me too;

I wasn't watching for you."

We were very polite, this stranger and I.

We went on our way and we said goodbye.

But at home a different story is told,

How we treat our loved ones, young and old.

Later that day, cooking the evening meal,

My son stood beside me very still.

When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.

"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.

He walked away, his little heart broken.

I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.

While I lay awake in bed, 

God's still small voice came to me and said,

"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, 

But the family you love, you seem to abuse.

Go and look on the kitchen floor,

You'll find some flowers there by the door.

Those are the flowers he brought for you. 

He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.

He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,

You never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.

"By this time, I felt very small,

And now my tears began to fall.

I quietly went and knelt by his bed;

"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.

"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"

He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.

I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.

I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."

I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;

I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."

He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway."

I said, "Son, I love you too,

And I do like the flowers, especially the blue."

The Truth Behind Johnny And The Sprites

Johnny and the Sprites is a 5 minute Playhouse Disney short, shown daily which will soon be extended to a full half hour program.

Officially Johnny moves into a house left to him by his late uncle (this is never mentioned in the show, it is explained on various websites), but I am not convinced this is true. I think Johnny is suffering from a seriously deep break with reality and Disney Channel is exploiting this poor fellow's hallucinations. The opening theme song, sung by Johnny himself, provides many hints relating to his true mental condition:

john:
i came to live
in this house
in the woods
to work on my music
on my own (isolationism, anti-social behavior)
but somehow i feel
this magical place
and somehow i feel
that I'm not alone (paranoia, hallucinations)
i was just johnny
till i walked through that door
but I'm not just johnny anymore (possible multiple personality disorder)
I'm johnny!

basil and ginger:
and the sprites

john:
did you see one?
johnny!

basil and ginger:
and the sprites

john:
could you be one? (vagueness concerning reality and fantasy)

all:
johnny...and the sprites

So, he came to the house of his dead uncle. Is the death of the uncle a possible cause for his break down? Was this a beloved uncle or one he never really knew?

Officially, the "sprites" are teaching him about their fantastical world and he is teaching the "sprites"about humanity. Also, a neighbor, Ms. Moldistew, checks up on him even, when his exploits take place in the middle of the night. Also, curiously, Ms. Molistew looks strikingly similar to Johnny - could it be that his uncle is not dead, but had set up this elaborate situation to push his nephew over the edge of sanity and is disguising himself to observe the progress?

Whatever the REAL story, Disney Channel is making a profit by displaying the escapades of a very ill man. Honestly, he is singing and dancing with puppets when he should be getting professional psychological help. Is that who you want as a role model for your pre-schoolers?

Please help me put an end to this shameful exploitation. Write your congressman today.

The Power Is Yours

So I listen to Dr. Laura. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I think she is wise and blunt. When I am old(er) I hope to have more courage and the strength to tell it like it is. Like when the car salesman guy asks me how many more kids we want I will tell him it is really not his business and when he confesses his concern for the impending change to his quality of life due to his fiance's pregnancy, I would like to be able to say, "Yes, well, that can happen when you have unprotected sex outside of wedlock." Did you see Scrubs? Where the main guy knocked up the girl he had a couple dates with ... and the head nurse's Jesus statue told him abortion was always bad and they ought not have sex before marriage ... but in a oh-Jesus-you're-so-funny-but-so-right kind of way. Jesus also made a guest appearance on the Simpson's episode I was watching - the one where Bart and Homer convert to Catholicism and there's a imagination flash with Protestant Heaven, all hoity toity, with croquet, and Catholic Heaven were everyone ended up doing River Dance. I have always wanted to see, if not actively participate in River Dance. Once my husband took off his shirt and was wearing this big gold Tree-Of-Life amulet I used to be quite fond of and River Danced a bit for my personal amusement (couples dance how they will). He now denies the event ever took place, so vehemently that I sometimes wonder if it wasn't all a dream But if it was, the memory of that dream will always make me chortle and snort liquid out my nose. Sigh.

And now back to our previously barely touched on topic.

So Dr. Laura often nags people to be nicer to their families (spouses, specifically). Have you noticed how people often use quite abrupt tones when making requests of spouses or children, tones that they would never even imagine using with a stranger or a client. Why is it, do you suppose, that we don't give the most beloved people in our lives the same courtesy we allot a stranger??? Yes, relationships become more casual, are taken for granted, one simply can't be expected to be on their best behavior all the time ... but isn't that when problems arise? And, really, if being polite ALL the time becomes a habit, not only is life more pleasant, but your children will see and emulate your example, perhaps they will lead a revolution towards more polite behavior.

Don't you think it would be nice if everyone were just a bit more polite? If they turned off cell phones completely during movies (I couldda kicked that Guy with the cell phone - during The Passion Of the Christ ... I mean really, Jesus is being beaten bloody, big salty tears rolling down my eyes, then doo dooot dee dee dedaleedee -" hello? no, I'm at the movies - uh - ok - I'll call you later." Honestly!) No texting, nothing. Just be in the moment, boys and girls. And in restaurants ... I don't want to hear your conversation ("Can you hear me now? ok, so sally said ...". Your life, not so important.) And do you remember, back before cell phone, like in '96, when you'd go to a store and if the thing wasn't quite exactly right you would make a decision and go home? Now I have to call and check with my husband on everything: the oil change guy says we need the air filter changed and the tires rotated, should I have him do that? Did you want the light brown or the dark brown chair? I want to buy the baby some diapers, but they are out of Luvs, should I go for Pampers Cruisers or Huggies Crawlers? Crichton got stung by a bee, should I take him to the hospital? No? What's first aid for a bee sting? Should I look it up in my parenting book? ok. No power of decision.

BUT I do have the power to be polite. I am going to try treating my family as though they were strangers. Not like - hey strange man what are you doing in my house? And who are those children?? But requesting help politely, kindly reminding them of duties perhaps forgotten (dear, today is garbage day, did you take the trash to the curb? No? Can you do that before you go? Thank you ever so much darling.) And remembering to be grateful when things are done for me (sweetie, did you wipe your bum ? you did? good job, thank you, I knew you could do it by yourself. And did you wash your hands? oh, bravo, I'm so proud of you!)(to the 4 yr old, not the husband, mind you). I will treat my own children with the gentleness I treat other people's kids because, when it comes right down to it, my kids actually do belong to Someone Else.

Now, go use your good manners.

Fine. Ok. Whatever.

So ... alright. I got him a present or 3 with one or two more on the list. Somewhere within the last 24 hours I decided I will just get him the things he wants. Wants, not needs. Wants even though they blow the bridges off of the Christmas budget. I'll get them for him because then I get the bonus points for getting them since he will get them eventually anyway on his own. So I'll just do it. It is, after all, his money; and he'll have to figure out how to pay for it all. So I gave up. Gave up my frugal (aka Cheap) sensibilities. Gave up hope for saving for the future. Gave up the idea of starting a savings account for my children and my nieces and nephews. Gave it all up to make him happy for a few minutes when he sees that I have procured things he wanted. Not needed. He does spoil me, after all. He'd spoil me more if I'd let him.

Perhaps I'll let him.

But I think I'll need to move on to another card now. Poor credit cards. Used up and tossed aside.

See you in bankruptcy court.

Santa

What is the point of perpetuating the myth of Santa - I askya?!

My 4 year old totally believes. But I have a dang hard time keeping secrets, lying, sneaking, hiding.
My husband thought maybe perhaps Santa just brings the stocking stuffer toys and candy and the good stuff comes from mom and dad. There's merit to that concept. But then what about when Santa brings our kids little things and the other kids big fancy stuff? What, doesn't he like us? Were we bad?

And Santa always brought me that one big cool toy I wanted. Kricket the talking doll, a telescope, my cabbage patch kid, a CD player ... Santa was great.

And there is no Santa, other than in all our greedy hearts. (Having a Heard The Bells On Christmas Day moment.)

It makes me sick how much we are spending on our selfish wants ... totally thoughtless of others. A few cans of food here and there, other than that, it's hundreds for a new floor, hundreds for a new table and chairs, hundred for various plastic Star Wars junk for the next generation to be obsessed with a poorly acted, suckily directed, overly long drawn out series of movies. Lucas has enough money, shouldn't we help, I don't know, the widow, the fatherless, those poor in spirit, lonely. Ug.

Merry Christmas.

Sunday School

I have gone to church nearly every Sunday for the past 6 or 7 years, I'd say. I missed a month or two for the birth of each of my children. Other than that, I miss maybe one Sunday every 3- 4 months for miscellaneous travels or children or husband illnesses.

I'm not bragging, just providing a starting point - I'm there a lot.

Church is usually ... well, pretty much boring ... not so much informative or inspiring. The LDS church does things a bit different from other churches (the one's I've been to anyway). There's not a pastor who delivers a sermon each week - a professional who went to school to learn how to give sound guidance and interesting lecture. The ritual part takes 10-15 minutes of the 70 minutes for Sacrament Meeting (then there's still another 2 hours for various group classes). The bishop (or his counselors) just ask the members of the congregation to talk on a specific topic. The person has a week or two to get it ready and then we all listen. And it usually is about a 3.48 on a scale of 10.

Plus, I've spent the last 5 years mostly in Primary with the kids. And while teaching can be inspiring and rewarding, it also takes a lot of time and energy and if the kids happen to be hyper that day ... well, you can't blame kids when your church experience is less than enlightening. But even so, sometimes you feel like you've sown 100 acres and reap .0025.

And it's not that I expect to be wowed every week. Well, okay, that's exactly what I hope for. I want to be moved to tears, touched by the spirit, and feel my testimony swell. Every week. I do not, however, prepare myself for that experience every week. It takes a certain peaceful, meditative soul, I think. BUT (and SO many church/public speakers are ignorant to this) tell me a story, a personal story, a metaphorical story, historical, anything, tell me a story, relate it to a principle and I'm right there baby.

The New Testament is full of great parables, I love 'em.

Too many church speakers quote scripture, quote General Authorities, tell us to pray everyday, pay tithing, attend the temple, magnify our callings and endure to the end. Thanks a bunch, better luck next week.

But we just got a new bishopric and the counselors spoke. The first guy (who looks just like Bellock from Indiana Jones) quoted lots of my favorite scriptures, but my kids were demanding 73% of my attention, so I didn't hear much of the rest, something like Love and Serve.

The next guy (who happens to have the same first and last name as my brother) was talking about contention. My own home had been exceedingly contentious that week, especially the weekend - ooh I love holiday shoppers. He was talking about his own family life and how they sometimes slip and have to make up and such, and he was talking about it with one of his children, the dangers of contention, and his child commented that it was like a certain family they knew from their old ward.

This other family, the dad was a High Priest, they went to the temple and church, life was seemed normal. Evidently, bad things were going on in the hearts of the parents ... resulting in a double funeral for the parents (murder/suicide? he wasn't specific). It caught me, the spirit, something ... I felt tears (of guilt, shame) welling up, I reached for my husband's hand. He looked at me questioningly. I mouthed "I love you!" He talked about how when we allow negative influences into our home, through TV, Internet, movies, etc - it opens the doors for bad feelings. This past week we watched a dreadfully awful movie, I ought not have watched, I failed to skip the really bad part ... wickedness burned into my little brain ... we both regretted seeing it.

Can you logically blame a movie for causing contention within your marriage? No, not logically.
But that doesn't mean it played no part.

My theory ... the things we choose to do, all our activities, either draw us closer to God or take us further from Him. And you can tell, if you step back out of yourself and the moment a bit, which it is. I can't think of any neutral activity. Things that draw you closer help you act more divine. And somethings may seem like good things (reading scriptures as a family, i.e.) but if they aren't done with the right attitude, it's actually having the opposite effect.

Sunday, church, group worship, amateur speakers. Sometimes it seems like a pointless waste of time, but really, it's gotta be about your personal relationship with God - He has important messages to give us, things we need to know and hear, things that lead to happiness if we could just let ourselves hear them. So you have to play the odds: are you more likely to get the message in church from some guy or from some less-than-up-lifting movie (both are possible, but which is more likely?); from the scriptures or some novel? From your spouse while talking softly or yelling in anger?

Do what is right. Choose to do good positive things. Be happy. Let yourself be really happy. Not Stupid-Silly-Drunk-Happy, but My-Life-Is-Good-Happy.

Life is good.

Ah ... Silly Girls

My motto, for quite a while has been this: EMOTIONS ARE TEMPORARY. Because I am crazy ... sometimes I feel angry, hateful, spiteful like I'd like to throttle someone, other times, I love the world and think everyone is beautiful.

I'm 98% convinced many, if not all, of my emotions are at least partly, if not completely, due to the fluctuations of hormones in my brain. Ever notice how your frustrated tone of voice is much politer with an idiotic stranger than your beloved and near genius spouse? That cliche - someone must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed ... bad moods are often inexplicable. Your head hurts, your back hurts, you're hungry, you're tired; really, not much more complicated than a baby, but your vocabulary is frighteningly sharper.

So don't blame anything, be nice so you don't have to present excuses and apologise. The POWER IS YOURS!

Especially when we are supposed to be nice, this time of year, but money time and energy get stretched and stressed. This weekend I must have apologized to my beloved 30 times - I just couldn't seem to be nice. Then things were better. He's a good guy .. do girls have more hormones or are we more sensitive to them .. or are we just lazier at controlling them????

And That's The Problem With People Today

So yesterday (and probably everyday until the 25th) I was struggling with the age old question, what should I get my beloved spouse for Christmas. Some sweet helpful person suggested I give him a divorce. I think it must be someone who came across my rant by random coincidence, rather than someone who actually knows us, elsewise they probably would have commiserated with me and sent me a link to thinkgeek.com.

But then I got to thinking about society and such. How people don't take wedding vows seriously (for better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in good times and in bad, when you feel PMSy or your golf is really bad, for time and all eternity). Most likely they were being funny, sarcastic, witty, quipy. But what if they were serious? Perhaps my anonymous friend didn't realize we have 2 small children and how vital a stable 2 parent home is. And we've been married for going on 9 years ... throw it all away because I suck at buying presents? And I do suck at it. Gifts for him anyway. Surprise ones anyway.

Here's why. I grew up really really poor. Like, I didn't get a bunch of new clothes and a back pack and shoes for school every year. I got garbage bags of hand me downs from cousins whose families were only slightly better off than mine. Where Greg and I are trying to stretch about a thousand bucks for Christmas, for food, gifts, decorations, everything and its really okay if we go over ... my family had maybe a couple hundred bucks and prayed the checks didn't bounce. Where I complain about having carpet in the dining room ... in my childhood home, the kitchen sink wouldn't drain, like at all. My dad tried to fix it once, he undid the U shaped pipe, couldn't fix the drain and left the pipe off so the sinks just drained into a 5 gallon bucket and we'd empty it outside when it got full. Sometimes it would overflow. The floor under the sink became so warped and rotten ... yeah good times...

So I'm not used to having like decent amounts of money to spend on people I love ... and in my heart I am still that poor girl and I don't want to waste money on useless things ... plus, he's the only one making money ... so ... SO I should just go get him whatever he wants, but ... my grandma grew up during te depression and saved like cottage cheese and margarine containers, rinsed out ziplock baggies, saved bread wrapper ties and buttons and rubber bands and never threw out nick nacks. Our basement was cluttered all my (decades since deceased) grandad's fixing stuff: screws, nails, pits of rope, wood, metal. They kept anything that might be reused. My family lived with my grandma until she passed away and I spent a lot of time, you could say, absorbing her sensibilities.

It's not so bad to be frugal, to try to fix things. What's the quote? Use it up or wear it out, fix it up or do without, something like that. Don't open the new milk until the old one is all gone; before you throw something away, can it be recycled? Could it be an art project?

And you need to save a little, for emergencies. I was reading the phone book yesterday (the emergency preparedness part, not like the phone numbers) and realized we don't have ANY thing prepared for ANY disaster and we live a mile from an airforce base which must be a target of some sort ...

But back to topic. I just don't know how to spend money very well. I know I can live without things, I lived without things most of my life. I feel selfish when I buy myself stuff. I feel irresponsible when I buy unnecessary things for others.

Socks and underwear for everyone, I say.

But socks are no fun.

Neither are divorces, I hear.

Please, better suggestions.

There's This Guy ...

My husband won't give me a Christmas List or any ideas for things to get him for Christmas. I have known this guy since I was mmm 16 and that is almost half my life and I really don't know what to get him. He's being mean. And stubborn.

He'd like a Wii or a XBox 360 or a Big Ol' Flat Screen TV or another new lap top or a gaming computer he can take to LAN parties or a riding lawnmower or a golf membership or a vacation to Scotland or a receiver thingy or .... that's all I can think of ... but you see none NONe of those things falls within the pre-set price limit.

And here's a kicker - the punk boy bought HIMSELF a new fancy shmancy pocket PC phone last week - $300! Then THEN he NEEDED a memory booster thingy for it, another $80. When have I ever "needed" something for myself in December for nearly $400?? I'll tell you, NEVER!

I did spend $20 today on 10 plates that were not too big and not too small, but just right and square and white.

BUT 20 does not equal 380. FYI.

I know he does not want any of the following for Christmas: Underwear, socks, probably any type of clothing (although he ripped out 2 pairs of shorts in 2 days last month ...). He likes (and by "likes" I mean to say we have 8 BIG book shelves full of) books, but I never know what to get him, the last book I recommended to him (5 People You Meet In Heaven) he loathed, so though he can reccomend for me, I can not for him. Video games, you'd think would be an obvious choice for a game programmer, but he really doesn't play that much - I've gotten him games in the past, ones he said he really wanted, he plays for a few days, wins it or gives up and in molds on the shelves until we sell them back to the store. Perhaps Guitar Hero ... but alas, that is for the PS 2 and the cost of the game, equipment and console exceeds the total allowed.
I cannot buy him art, bedroom sets, a dining room set, there's a big chair I saw that only slightly exceeds the budget .. but then I get all mad inside because he bought that dastardly phone for himself... should I further spoil him? I mean I SHOULD ... but I have a darn spiteful nature ... Grrr....

Movies ... he bought everything he wanted on Black Friday.

Gift Certificates are strictly FORBIDDEN - one year he got 6 (not from me, but others who face the same delemma I am currently in ...) and since then, they are FORBIDDEN.

Steak of the Month ... but I can not for the life of me cook steak.

So we are maybe on the chair and maybe maybe looking into a golf membership. He sold off my Durango to get his sports car thing ... so I have no way to get a chair home ... or hide it ... and I'm guessing .. based on the price of golf, that a season pass thing is gonna exceed my limit ...

Any suggestions??!!

On Christmas - thoughts today

I am progressing well on my Robots and Dinosaurs Christmas decorations. I will post pictures soon. Today I will make a Christmas Banner thing that says:

*
May the Memories of Christmas Past
Mingle with the Hope for Christmas Future
To fill our Hearts with Joy on this Merry Christmas.

Or something equally cheesy to that effect. Yesterday, as I was drilling holes in plastic dinosaurs I had an imaginary conversation with an imaginary adversary who asked me what dinosaurs and robots have to do with Christmas? Having no good answer, I responded with a question: What do snowmen, bells, silver balls, bears, or Santa Claus have to do with Christmas, really? That quieted him right up.

Besides, we know that Jesus was almost definitely NOT born on December 25 ... that that particular date was likely chosen to appease pagan converts (because a nothing says true believers life a forced conversion) who wanted to continue their traditional winter celebration.

I always felt bad for my Jehovah's Witness friend who didn't celebrate Christmas, birthdays, or anything - the wise internet explains this is because: "... it is wrong because (1) whenever the Bible talks about someone celebrating a person's birthday, someone dies; (2) nowhere in the Bible do we find anyone celebrating Christ's Birthday, i.e. Christmas; and (3) we certainly shouldn't celebrate Christmas on December 25, because this was a day used yearly by the Pagans to celebrate their sun-worship (winter solstice)." Not sure if that's 100% right, the sight was biased. But celebrations are fun; unless Jesus himself came down and says, "thou shalt not," I think most people will.

And I can decorate with whatever silly things I'd like.

And when I burn myself with the hot hot glue gun, well, I deserve it.

Whose Children are These?

One of my favorite poems,On Children by Kahil Gibran, explains how I feel:

On Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children." And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I have these two wondrous creatures which are called my children, but they aren't mine. God gave them to me to care for, to protect, to see to their educations, mostly to learn from them I think though. Learn how to really love and really sacrifice. Learn to be more like God.

I think other people do not get that they are not OUR kids, as in ownership, really, they are more like our little brothers and sisters whom we have promised to care for as if they were ours. I never felt like my kids belonged to me - I'm just providing the soil for them to grow, hoping its not all fertilizer. Mom is my responsibility, my stewardship, not my bill of sale. If someone whom you love and respect gave you his most valuable position to take care of because you asked to have it, would you hit it and yell profanities at it, would you trust anyone else to care for it like you do? If you knew you'd have to go back to that person someday and explain what and why you did what you did with his treasure, you'd be sure to do your best with it, no?

Yeah, so, I love my kids; for who they really are, for what they teach me, for all their potential. I think my kids have a lot to do with my ultimate purpose in life, whatever that may be. When it says love one another, it think it means love everyone like you love your children ... if I did, I would be a better person. If everyone did ... if every nation's leader thought to himself in times of war, each person who dies in this conflict, from any side, is my child ... perhaps that is why not so many woman national leaders ... is it easier for a woman to see people as someone's child? When you go through that ultimate of creative processes and look into the eyes of a new human life that has come from your love and you know every cell of its body was nourished by your body ... your world changes. Everyone seems more important, more special, full of potential.

As I Type, Stinking

I was about to take a shower, as baby takes his nap at 11 now that daylight savings time has pooped on my life again. But I had to go to the basement for clean underwear, then I noticed the dryer was dry and the washer was empty so I put some laundry in. Then I noticed the kitty litter was full, so I moved it around and promised Margaret Thatcher I'd take care of it right after my shower (she is getting stoned with her cat nip ball now). Then I went back up stairs and thought, ooo, I'll just check my email really quick. Then my email was really really funny (see snide remarks today, it's worth it, he quotes non-existent scripture where in Jesus and his mother Mary have this fictional conversation:

"And lo, verily, the mother of Jesus said: Jesus, why is it thou art now in thy thirties yet thou hast not married? What is wrong with that lovely Magdalene girl? Why dost thou not marry her? And Jesus sayeth unto her: Woman, the day I am wed to Mary Magdalene is the day I eat a pork chop wrapped in bacon, for verily, I shall never marry her nor any other woman, for lo, that is how I roll.")

Then ... well, my husband said if I want to be a writer I must write everyday ... and while I enjoy writing and would love to do it (any many many other things - like shower) everyday, sometimes ... the 6 or 7 hours I might spend enjoying REM and various other sleep related states are spent breast feeding a human looking beaver type creature who wiggles and cries a lot while searching for things to gnaw on and sometimes, if I nod off, I get gnawed on. And sometimes it's whilst I am breastfeeding. Yeah, ouch. So sometimes though there were 7 hours to be slept through, I haven't enjoyed more than 2-3 consecutively.

Anyway, so I am tired, stinky and my house is a mess, so I really have no time to write. Or at least no time to come up with something pertinent or interesting or entertaining. Now it is nye on noon and I have a plethora of things to accomplish.

But I did get a raise! $20 extra bucks a week. Wahoo, now I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.
I spent 90 precious potentially asleep minutes fighting with Greg this morning. I just wanted him to get up with the kids and let me sleep for 30 minutes with no kids worries cuz I get up with the kids all night, put them back to sleep thus letting him sleep mostly uninterrupted ... he offered to bring the baby in to me in the middle of the night so i didn't have to get up (you see how that is not helpful, right???!!!). I used to refuse to laugh when we fought ... cuz how can you fight properly while laughing?! I don't try anymore so we ended up having the same fight about 4 times and then just laughed and both got up. I'm so tired, we have had a week of mild sickness and possible teething and its the holidays and we had vacation ... I am so bloody tired ... just ... 30 ... minutes .... PLEASE .... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..............

Pope and Nietsche

So ... we ought not watch R-Rated movies ... all violent and sex and profane. Very much of TV seems R-rated ... I hear the B-word a hundred times a day ... had to break my child of saying "dammit" and "ohmigod" and really we don't swear at home (much, not really at all when the kids are up), not to be ultra-conservative, good and proper or anything .. I just don't find much use for that language (anymore...). People aren't frustrating me to the point of murder (how I do not miss my Pizza girl days - my husband sent me an email with a link to a place where I could buy Plutonium ... I used to have this thing against Uncle Sam's Army Surplus in Orem ... Jalapeno Pizza, no jalapeno juice? I mean, honestly!). So now most of my swears can be found in the Bible - if God can say it ... (like dumb ass - how I love that story; is bastard in the Bible? Heck yeah - I do occasionally allow that one to fly). Freakin'- a euphemism I even use in front of my visiting teachers. Then I so love Shakespearean insults - you dirty rat catcher.

ANYWAY - so with Netflix comes the ability to see R-rated movies I wouldn't have gone to the theatre to seen nor remembered I wanted to see when at the video store (what is this? Vid-e-o store, what is their purpose?). Last night is was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I really rather detest Jim Carrey (not only as an obnoxious actor, but also as a human being. He is not to be invited over for dinner, there will be no gravy for him); he was acceptable in this film. Kate lovely Winslett had vibrant colorful hair which so made me wish that almost 30 year olds could dye their hair blue or orange or pink or green. Besides all that ... the movie was rated R. R ... for sporadic F-words, some almost scenes of sex, there were no boobs, nothing australian .... I just get tired of the rating system in general.

I saw Saving Private Ryan, with it's 20 minutes of blood and gore to get you warmed up and desensitized. And I would allow a mid-teenage child to see that. This ... really, wasn't so offensive as to be deserving of an R ... or rather I guess what I'm saying is ... In my mind, an R rating means at least one scene is so offensive to me I would have to skip it (as in the waste of time Lost in Translation - why the strip bar? Just for fun? Hours I will never have back.).

Who sets these ratings up anyway? I'm pretty darn conservative and just not happy with the rating system. Why does "adult" have to be indicative of near-porn? Why can't a movie just be rated Mature if it's not for kids, but not pornographic? Fortunately I have a trusted movie critic who sees everything and breaks down the rating and provides enough description to steer (moo) me hither and yon.

Anyway .. I have no problem skipping scenes if they bug me. I don't have to watch people getting it on (directors seem to feel it is necessary, I disagree). For me, violence in film is not real, no one is getting tortured, amputated, blown-up ... it's pretend, make-up and special effects. When people are getting kissy-face, it is real, to some extent, they are kissing, gyrating, and whatever .. it makes me uncomfortable and fortunately, I have the power to skip it.

Notice how I'm not favoring wide-spread censorship, but enjoy the opportunity to censor things for myself. Someday, there are things in my journals that need a black sharpie, but I haven't done it yet ... It's only bad censorship when the government enforces it. And discrimination, only bad when done by government, well, it's not good, but people ought to be free to choose the right. no? Elsewise ... what good is freedom - how can you choose good over evil if the choice is made for you? What's the point to the test if there is only one answer for each multiple choice question?

The theme of the movie: It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all. Sigh ... ain't that the truth?

I do enjoy figuring out where a movie got its title. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind revolves around two quotes. The first is from Alexander Pope's "Eloisa to Abelard," in which the poet takes on the voice of a young woman at war (as all of Pope's protagonists seem to be on some level) between feelings of love and religiosity:

How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

The second is from Nietsche's Beyond Good and Evil, Part VII: "Blessed are the forgetful: for they shall have done with their stupidities too."

I've seen numerous pointless "realistic" movies delving into the boring lives of normal people and ending up nowhere and I hate them. This was the first movie of the character driven type EVER to leave me happier at the end. A nice journey.

V is Very Good

We watched V For Vendetta last night - with Natalie Portman and that guy from LOTR and Matrix, Mr. Smith (he wore a mask the WHOLE time, so I think it was him, the credits say so ... but I'll never KNOW know, I guess its a faith thing...).

It was surprisingly good and significant. It touched on important today issues without spoon feeding us a point of view (I hated John Q. Public for that ... oooo the evils of non-socialized health care, darn the wicked hospital administrators, will no one help that poor boy). The hero is a terrorist, revolutionary, freedom fighter. That in and of itself twists your brain in ways not often explored today - terrorists are bad, their methods all wrong, but with this show you have to ask yourself why does he do what he is doing.

It also addresses the rule by fear idea ... if civilians are so afraid they give up privacy and freedom for safety and security, if the government had the authority to spy on everyone and punish and torture ... when the checks and balances are absent, is that a life worth living? Where art and literature that are deemed unacceptable are forbidden ... where everyone is afraid all the time and they just keep their heads down and live those quiet lives of desperation ...

Well, it makes me wonder how far WE are from that.

All around the world, people claim they want freedom, but only the easy, safe kind, not the give your life for the cause of right type. And even as I write this, in the back of my mind a little voice says "what if the NSA or FBI or KGB is reading this and makes me disappear." While I still have this freedom of expression... it is tainted with fear ... and guilt.

We all value life, liberty, and happiness (also property). But which is the priority? Which is worth sacrificing everything for? Right now, America seems to be sacrificing everything for happiness and property. Good job America - stupid silly Americans. It should be liberty, right?