Dear Mother Nature,

I hate to sound resentful or insolent, but Autumn ought to be gilded with a few gusty winds and loads of brilliant sunshine, not dull, dreary, overcast skies day after day, night after night. Forgive me my rebuke, but I do believe you may have mistaken Autumn for Spring.

Sincerely yours,

Lady M

what's going on over there?

Heeeeeeere's Elmo! (little costume part-ay last weekend to preview Halloween this coming weekend)
 

Yen

I have been craving pizza for days now. Even the consumption of some the other day did nothing to sate this desire. And yet, I cannot bring myself to actually purchase some pizza. Therefore, I will sit here with the food I have and glower and dream of crust and sauce and toppings of splendor.

A Cold and A Broken Hallelujah

It seems the most draining and most exhilarating times of my life can be punctuated by a cold and a broken "hallelujah." The root of "hallelujah" in Hebrew is "hallel" which means "to praise." There's actually a difference between "Allelujah" and "Hallelujah." "Hallelujah" means "praise him" and "Allelujah" means "I praise him." (if parsing and memory serve me correctly) It may not seem like much of a difference, but it really can be. For it is in those most dark and disparaging times when one must cry out through humility and shambles, Hallelujah! For here it is a challenge, a proclamation, a demand, not only to ones' self, but to others as well "Praise him!" It is in these times that we need reminding to praise. It is in these times that I do not readily come to him saying "allelujah," "I praise him" that I must be reminded, "hallelujah," "praise him." "Hallelujah Ha-melek" "Praise the King."

For once in my life I was actually chastized for using my "filter."

Last night I picked my car up from the shop and ended up adding an oil change onto the tab. I sat around talking with one of the guys there and another customer while another mechanic changed my oil. We went through the normal exchange of pleasantries: Are you from around here? No? Where are you from? What brought you here? yadda yadda yadda.

After giving some of my explanations the two men responded as though I had given them the shaft. They said they could see a lot more going on, they could see the wheels turning in my head, spinning furiously, only to have me spit out an abrigded edition in the end. Perhaps it actually just takes me that much effort to not say everything that I'm thinking! That's probably it. Filters take a lot of work. Phew.

Maybe that's why I don't write as easily on here any more either. I know that, whether I like it or not, every word must be strained through a necessary filter lest it come off too brash or garrish and land me into another intervention with those who have yet to attain a greater understanding of the fine nuances involved in the art of blogging. Hence, if you see my wheels turning, don't look away. Just know I wish there was more that I could say.

Dependence and Departure from Reason

The past, oh (thurs, fri, sat, sun, mon...) five days have been relatively interesting relying on the kindness, generosity, patience and transportation of my benevolent friends. My car's been in the shop since Thursday, as you can probably devise from the above. I'm not very good at relying on others, so it's been a good lesson. And the lesson is: I need my car. Ok, ok, I need to be a little less independent at times. But I'll probably forget that once I have my car back which will hopefully be today-- however, I still need a ride to the bank to get money and then to the shop to get my car. Another lesson is in a source of dependence that I could use less of-- that of falling back on family for cash flow. Sucky. I hate it. Strong budget, here I come. At least I'm not overdrawing any more-- that's a step in the right direction, right? I hope so.

Any hoo- I've also decided that I'm going back to being random. This blog was created to be both an outlet for my inappropriate humor and a pressure release for my over-analytical brain. I've been doing too much of one and not enough of either. So, here we go.

I got honey in my hair this morning, which is sad because I could have used more in my oatmeal.
I haven't missed not seeing the sun rise, I hope to go back to not seeing it rise sometime very soon.

I'm wearing an awful lot of pink and brown today.-- I guess you could include my brown hair in that.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love hearing "Friday I'm in Love" on the radio, but it still weirds me out when it's played on a day that's not Friday. Maybe Katie Couric heard it today, too and that's why she said it was Friday this morning. We've got a long week ahead kids.

I sent in a resume for a Proof Editor position, but didn't proof the cover email-- which had errors. Yeah, good job, kid. :-P

I'm off to finesse an article into saying something else.

Over and out.

Till Death Do Us Part

In all my quarter-life thoughts about marriage, this is not a phrase I have spent enough time contemplating, or at least not in the right way. I have recently realized that in spending a considerable amounts of time weighing the gravity of the lifetime commitment of "to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part," I have overlooked the eternal ramifications of "for this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh."

A week ago, one of our chaplains lost his wife to a long battle with a particularly rare form of cancer. He's taking it very hard, as well he should. He's lost the women who he fell in love with at first sight. I've heard the story once or twice, but it's just as beautiful no matter how many times I hear it. While visiting his home on break from college, he saw her from afar and asked his brother, "Who is that girl?" Then he said, "I am going to marry that girl." She was only about sixteen at the time and he was about nineteen, but in the years to come he pursued her and they had a beautiful, long, devoted marriage.

The past couple of years have been really hard on him, you can see it in his face, hear it in his voice. When she was doing well, so was he, but when she went through rough patches, it was his face that stood as the weatherworn billboard of their trials. Hearing him talking about her and the faith he has had throughout this entire process encourages me greatly, which I suppose is why I have felt such a devastating loss at her passing.

To hear and see him speak is to understand how much she truly means to him. In her passing, I've come to realize that sometimes there are bonds so strong that death simply can't "do us part." In thinking about love and marriage, I find myself hoping for something that will last the strains of life, I've never given thought to enduring the strains of death.

In light of all this thinking, I've also been carving out some little lyrical snippets, here's a bit:

I said I would hold you, have you till the end
Promised only death would do us part
Now I know those solemn vows were mere lies upon my lips
For even death cannot tear me from your heart

It's not fair. It's not fair. No one asked my opinion
It's not fair. It's not fair. No one had my heart in mind
No one told me today would feel like the end of time
No one told me I'd be buried in your grave

Less Is More

That's my excuse of the moments as to why I haven't been writing very much. I could give you the day-to-day updates, but who wants those, right? Don't say you do. I won't believe you.

Just know that I'm home safe and sound and had a wonderful time with family and friends. Work has not let up any more, but hopefully I will have something to say soon.

~til then.

Actually Busy

Sorry I haven't written! To be honest, I've actually been rather busy and when I'm not, I haven't the energy left for contemplation. Sad excuse, really, but it's true.

I'm also trying to go about writing a different way. Not necessarily the content of my writing, just my commitment to it and composition of it. I'd like to extent an inky tentacle into journalistic avenues beyond these pixels. I'm simply trying to reevaluate my style and substance. Perhaps I've spent so much time pondering those haphazard alleys that I've left barren the street on which I'd grown up. Forgive me. I have no news regarding these exploits, but be assured that when I do, you'll be the first to know.

Speaking of where I grew up, however, I'm heading off to my mom's house tonight for about 5 or 6 days with a quick overnight jaunt. Therefore, please do not be angry with me if I do not check in as much-- however, seeing as how I'll have a little less to focus on, I might just be writing more! Guess we'll find out.