During a recent sermon, my pastor humorously explained that you can tell if God has called you to be single (versus called to be married) by performing a simple test. Look at a picture of someone of the opposite sex, and then look at a picture of a cactus. If you can’t tell the difference, you’re probably called to be single. After the church service was over, while I walked to the parking lot, anytime I would pass a man along the way, I thought to myself, “That is not a cactus.” LOL!
I don’t want to stomp on anyone’s testimony, but it kind of annoys me when people say something like, “I was old when I got married; I was 30.” Technically, yes, 30 was pretty old to be getting married, say, back in the 70s when my parents tied the knot. But I’m 34 and unmarried. Does that make me ancient? I haven’t had a date since I was 18. I have no ex-husband, no children, and no boyfriend. I’m single-single-single. And I’m not complaining. It’s just that I’ve had plenty of time to make plenty of observations about being single.
If anyone asks me if I’m married and I reply no, I hate it when the next question is “Why?” Sigh. If only it were so easy to answer. Asking me why I’m not married kind of makes me angry. Is the question-asker assuming that I’ve actually chosen singlehood? I think I usually just reply with a shoulder shrug, and then the question-asker thankfully usually doesn’t pry further, or they talk about their own marriage journey, or they think out loud about who they can set me up with. Because answering the “Why?” thoroughly would require me explaining my past history in all its painful, gory detail. Also, if the question-asker would assume I’m gay (see my blog entry from 4/29/09), it would reinforce how little the question-asker really knows me. Again, sigh!
I mentioned on previous posts (4/12/10 and 4/17/10) that I left MySpace, and it was because I didn’t appreciate the way people were treating me on there. In many cases, I felt like a piece of meat. When I listed my marital status as “Single” and that I was looking for “Friendship,” it did NOT mean, “Hey, everybody, I’m into kinky stuff.” It meant, “I’m single. I’m on MySpace for platonic friendship. No cryptic messages attached.” It got to where I stopped friending guys who only had pictures of booby women on their profiles (because it was kinda obvious what their online intentions were). One guy, a perfect stranger from a foreign country, practically proposed, although judging from his generic message, I’m guessing he sent it to every woman he vaguely wanted.
I’m not saying it’s a bad idea to make friends and meet potential boyfriends online. I sent MySpace friend requests to a couple of (celebrity) guys I had crushes on. :”> I don’t think I did anything weird -- I just sent a simple friend request... that they ignored. One guy ignored 2 of my requests. Hey, life goes on. What I’m saying is that there’s a healthy way to chat with people online, especially in a platonic friendship, without practically proposing.
One guy, whom I’ll call “Y,” probably doesn’t know yet how to do this the healthy way. As I mentioned, I was on MySpace for platonic friendship purposes. I got a friend request from “Y,” a perfect stranger who seemed harmless, so I added him. Almost immediately, he started sending me messages just to make small talk, I guess because he wanted to chitchat. In case you haven’t noticed by now, I don’t really make small talk with perfect strangers online. I send them a link to my blog and give them a deep conversation! :o) Anyway, after a few days of very surface-level chitchat messages, I was like, “Hey, no offense, but I’m not comfortable chatting with perfect strangers online. I looked at your profile, and you don’t list very much information about yourself.” He was like, “I understand. No problem.” Then he IMed me on MySpace. (Almost no one ever IMed me on MySpace.) So, I prayed about it and got the impression that “Y” was only after one thing. I pretty much nipped it in the bud during that one IM chat. He was like, “Where do you work?” And I told him. He was like, “Interesting. What do you do for fun?” I was like, “I go to church.” He was like, “Oh. Uh, I guess you and I have different ideas of fun.” And then he completely stopped chatting with me and removed me from his friend list shortly thereafter! I was like, Thanks a lot! Heh. After all that trouble -- being open to developing a friendship with some chatty online stranger and then trying to figure out what his intentions were, only to be dropped when I suddenly mentioned church? I guess that might fall into the category of being blessed when people exclude you for Jesus’ sake (see Luke 6:22), but to me, “Y” communicated more along the lines of, “Oh. You’re NOT that kind of girl. See ya!” Maybe I’m still single because God has been protecting me from some bad stuff.
What’s probably worse than being treated like a piece of meat, however, is having unrequited love -- one of the most acute emotional pains ever known to humankind. I don’t think I’d ever wish it on anybody. Seriously!! Without going into details, there was a time when I thought I was in love with a man, but I wasn’t. (I listed it briefly on a post on 6/10/09.) Any feelings I had for him went away pretty quickly after I broke up with him. In processing through it afterwards, and in getting involved in the life of another guy who I developed some deeper feelings for, I got to understand firsthand what love is like. Love is something that lingers. It builds up in the deep places of your heart and soul, and it takes root so strongly that it will not easily leave when you try to uproot it. No, it makes itself at home inside your very being, causing happiness and pain simultaneously in a way that makes you want to either shout melodically from the rooftops or smush your face into your living-room carpet with a box of Kleenex and a steady stream of tears. Love makes you want the object of your affections to be as happy as possible, whether they’re with you or not. Whether they return your love or not. Whether they know how you feel or not. It’s being willing to serve unnoticed, willing to adjust the little details of your life, willing to let go. And when that love is unrequited, unreturned, you HAVE TO let go. Even if it means doing so in a gut-wrenching, soul-wrenching, heartbreaking process that takes a few long, agonizing years.
I think I might still be going through this process. :) It is painful, but as a creative artist, I like to take refined pain and shape it into something that will cathartically help me and hopefully help others. I’ve learned a LOT. One important thing I’ve learned is that even though I want to get married someday, I’d much rather be single than be with the wrong guy. If, over time, the kind of love that I mentioned in the previous paragraph isn’t something that I have for a guy, or if it isn’t returned, I’ll probably get out of that relationship. :)
The love that I’ve spoken about in this post is romantic love. But there is a much greater love than that -- an unconditional love that I hope to write about in my next post.
Now anytime anyone gets curious about my marital status, I can just send them a link to this post! Whoo-hoo! :D
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
My thoughts about the immigration debate
I’m not an expert in politics, and I only keep up with the news now pretty much just enough to get by, but I still would like to explain my point of view on illegal immigration, specifically regarding immigrants from Mexico.
If you’ve read any of my blog in the past few years, you probably know that my mom and half my family are originally from Mexico. (For info on my background, see “Half-breed power!” and “Hey! Are you toleratin’ me?” that I reposted on 4/12/10. For my opinion about government, healthcare, and immigrants who take advantage, see my post from 10/24/09.) I LOVE the United States of America, and as I get older, I appreciate our freedoms more and more. I would love for as many immigrants as possible, from Mexico and anywhere else, to live here and enjoy America -- my America! But I also believe we should keep our borders secure and enforce the law. I’m a natural-born citizen, but my mom and her family immigrated here from Mexico legally and became naturalized citizens years later. I believe that anyone who immigrates to the U.S. must do so legally.
My parents live in Texas near the Mexican border, so whenever I drive back home from visiting them, I pass through a border patrol checkpoint. It’s usually a very mellow event that only takes 10 to 15 minutes of my time. The traffic slows down, I and my car wait in line, and an officer asks me if I’m an American citizen while he briefly glances inside my car. I reply yes, he says thank you, and I proceed with my road trip. (There is usually a K-9 on duty, and it’s a good thing I’m not into drugs, because the animal would sniff them out pretty quick.) I’m sure these border patrol officers are doing a great job, but in my opinion, this is pretty minimum security. I wouldn’t mind at all if these checkpoint stops were much stricter, like if I had to show the officer my driver’s license or prove my citizenship, even if it meant taking up more of my time. If tightening the reins keeps me and my country safe, it’s worth it.
I’ve never been to Arizona, so I don’t know how things are out there. Quite frankly, if it’s anything like West Texas, it might be a place where racism is accepted or even encouraged. So, maybe their controversial immigration law is a terrible thing because it could potentially stir up even more racism. But what if it’s just a law that facilitates law enforcement officers’ authority to simply enforce the law?
This is a very silly example, but just say for the sake of argument that it is illegal to carry gummi bears inside bandanas. Even though the law is on the books, many people have chosen to ignore it and wrap gummi bears inside their bandanas and smuggle them everywhere, anyway. People wearing bandanas bulging with gummi bears stand outside movie theaters and grocery stores and hold picket signs, chanting that they have every right to keep gummi bears in their bandanas because they live in this great country. So, lawmakers pass a new law that requires police officers to inspect any bandanas they see anyone wearing and check for gummi bears. Anyone caught will be forced to give up their gummi bears and bandanas. Um, I don’t think it would be considered profiling if a police officer pulled over a motorist for speeding, for example, and noticed that the driver happened to be wearing a bandana and asked to inspect it for gummi bears. I think it would be considered common sense.
One evening about 2 or 3 years ago, I came across a Nickelodeon special that dealt with immigration. They interviewed a little girl whose family was here from Mexico illegally. She spoke English well and was enrolled in school here. But anytime her family heard that “la migra” (border patrol) was in their neighborhood, she and her entire family would stay quietly inside their house and try to make it look like they weren’t home. (Kind of like how the people in The Diary of Anne Frank would stay as quiet as possible during the day.) During these times when “la migra” was cracking down, no one in her family would go to school or work for fear of being caught and deported. And it is a legitimate fear. But that sounds like a terrible way to live. What kind of life is that? And what kind of lesson are that little girl and her siblings learning? That it’s OK to break the law as long as you don’t get caught?
The immigration issue can often be a tragic one: Families can be separated and people can even die trying to cross the border to freedom, albeit illegally. But I, for one, do not want this next generation to be a lawless one. I want all residents of American soil to enjoy the freedoms that our forefathers founded for us, and I want all immigrants to respect American freedoms and laws. God bless America -- my America!
If you’ve read any of my blog in the past few years, you probably know that my mom and half my family are originally from Mexico. (For info on my background, see “Half-breed power!” and “Hey! Are you toleratin’ me?” that I reposted on 4/12/10. For my opinion about government, healthcare, and immigrants who take advantage, see my post from 10/24/09.) I LOVE the United States of America, and as I get older, I appreciate our freedoms more and more. I would love for as many immigrants as possible, from Mexico and anywhere else, to live here and enjoy America -- my America! But I also believe we should keep our borders secure and enforce the law. I’m a natural-born citizen, but my mom and her family immigrated here from Mexico legally and became naturalized citizens years later. I believe that anyone who immigrates to the U.S. must do so legally.
My parents live in Texas near the Mexican border, so whenever I drive back home from visiting them, I pass through a border patrol checkpoint. It’s usually a very mellow event that only takes 10 to 15 minutes of my time. The traffic slows down, I and my car wait in line, and an officer asks me if I’m an American citizen while he briefly glances inside my car. I reply yes, he says thank you, and I proceed with my road trip. (There is usually a K-9 on duty, and it’s a good thing I’m not into drugs, because the animal would sniff them out pretty quick.) I’m sure these border patrol officers are doing a great job, but in my opinion, this is pretty minimum security. I wouldn’t mind at all if these checkpoint stops were much stricter, like if I had to show the officer my driver’s license or prove my citizenship, even if it meant taking up more of my time. If tightening the reins keeps me and my country safe, it’s worth it.
I’ve never been to Arizona, so I don’t know how things are out there. Quite frankly, if it’s anything like West Texas, it might be a place where racism is accepted or even encouraged. So, maybe their controversial immigration law is a terrible thing because it could potentially stir up even more racism. But what if it’s just a law that facilitates law enforcement officers’ authority to simply enforce the law?
This is a very silly example, but just say for the sake of argument that it is illegal to carry gummi bears inside bandanas. Even though the law is on the books, many people have chosen to ignore it and wrap gummi bears inside their bandanas and smuggle them everywhere, anyway. People wearing bandanas bulging with gummi bears stand outside movie theaters and grocery stores and hold picket signs, chanting that they have every right to keep gummi bears in their bandanas because they live in this great country. So, lawmakers pass a new law that requires police officers to inspect any bandanas they see anyone wearing and check for gummi bears. Anyone caught will be forced to give up their gummi bears and bandanas. Um, I don’t think it would be considered profiling if a police officer pulled over a motorist for speeding, for example, and noticed that the driver happened to be wearing a bandana and asked to inspect it for gummi bears. I think it would be considered common sense.
One evening about 2 or 3 years ago, I came across a Nickelodeon special that dealt with immigration. They interviewed a little girl whose family was here from Mexico illegally. She spoke English well and was enrolled in school here. But anytime her family heard that “la migra” (border patrol) was in their neighborhood, she and her entire family would stay quietly inside their house and try to make it look like they weren’t home. (Kind of like how the people in The Diary of Anne Frank would stay as quiet as possible during the day.) During these times when “la migra” was cracking down, no one in her family would go to school or work for fear of being caught and deported. And it is a legitimate fear. But that sounds like a terrible way to live. What kind of life is that? And what kind of lesson are that little girl and her siblings learning? That it’s OK to break the law as long as you don’t get caught?
The immigration issue can often be a tragic one: Families can be separated and people can even die trying to cross the border to freedom, albeit illegally. But I, for one, do not want this next generation to be a lawless one. I want all residents of American soil to enjoy the freedoms that our forefathers founded for us, and I want all immigrants to respect American freedoms and laws. God bless America -- my America!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Cataerobics: Final update!
If you’re curious about my battle with Tommy’s weight loss, please see my posts from 4/24/09 and 5/30/09.
Victory! Tommy weighed in at 12 and a half pounds this year, losing approximately 2 and a half pounds! (At first, I thought the scale was broken.) Hallelujah!! :) I kinda gave up on doing Cataerobics, so I mainly just micromanaged his food intake and switched to a Purina variety that helps with weight control. A few times, I fed him canned food instead of dry, like his vet suggested last year, but the vast majority of his meals consisted of dry food. I could barely tell any difference, but maybe you can now. The BEFORE picture was taken in 12/09...
Victory! Tommy weighed in at 12 and a half pounds this year, losing approximately 2 and a half pounds! (At first, I thought the scale was broken.) Hallelujah!! :) I kinda gave up on doing Cataerobics, so I mainly just micromanaged his food intake and switched to a Purina variety that helps with weight control. A few times, I fed him canned food instead of dry, like his vet suggested last year, but the vast majority of his meals consisted of dry food. I could barely tell any difference, but maybe you can now. The BEFORE picture was taken in 12/09...
...and the AFTER picture was taken earlier this evening.
In case you’re curious, I did download some tunes from the Flashdance soundtrack, but not for Tommy -- for me, the maniac. ‘Cause I’m dancin’ like I’ve never danced beforrrrre.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Reflections of the third decade, part VIII
Please feel free to skip this post if you find my decade contrasts boring or redundant, but I’m still fascinated at how freakin’ much God can change me in 10 years. Thanks in advance for reading. :)
When I was 24, I was convinced that I had to be like everybody else. There were a zillion things going on with me emotionally, and I was rarely at peace. My mind was often racing, remembering pain that people had caused me, and there was at least one occasion where I fantasized about violently causing pain back. In hindsight, I know that I needed to forgive people for a lot of stuff. The Bible basically says that if you don’t forgive somebody, you will be tortured. I know firsthand that that is true! Constantly thinking about and reliving an offense doesn’t make it go away. It stays there, making you angrier and angrier, and eventually the anger inside you turns into depression, and you get eaten from the inside out.
Anyway, I was very miserable. I was suicidal, no joke, for probably most of this year. During one Christian counseling session (maybe when I was 23), I basically said that I was in a hole, and I was allowing God to pull me out of it... but I wanted to just stay in the hole. Much later that year, I think in early 2001, I had a very powerful, simple encounter with God that I see now as one of the major turning points in my emotional healing. (The details are much too private to share online, but I’d be happy to share with you in person if you’re curious. :))
I had no practical outlets to express my anger or depression, and I had no practical escapes to relieve me from any of my misery. I considered TV and movies to be evil unless they told some godly story or were created by a Christian studio. (Yet I worked at a public TV station at the time. I know, huh? I was really confused and messed up!) I would come home to my very disorderly, very dirty apartment that I had become afraid to live in anymore. Actually, fear basically controlled my life.
Now that I am 34, fear isn’t welcome in my life, and I want God to be at the center of everything. I actually caught myself asking Him the other day if I could please wash dishes one evening... BECAUSE WASHING DISHES NOW RELAXES ME!! This is definitely an act of God. :) Now I work at a company that enhances TV and movies for deaf and hearing impaired viewers. Instead of throwing away TV and movies as pastimes altogether, I think I’ve finally learned to be picky enough about what I watch to enjoy it without worshiping it. There is more balance in my life now.
I’m very zealous about my emotional well-being. Although there have been a few times recently when the pit of depression has been very available to sink back into again, I trust God now. (He’s the One who pulls me out of the pit -- He can rescue anyone who will let Him.) He’s the One who gives me peace. I call out to Him, and He helps me. Sometimes I might have to wait a while, but it’s worth the wait. God is always worth the wait. :) He’s also the One who reminds me about the novel I’m writing and about how I can use it as an outlet to ramble about emotions. Isn’t that awesome? He likes to take manure and turn it into fertilizer!
I’m becoming OK with who I am now. I’m certainly not perfect, but I also certainly don’t have to be exactly like everybody else. I can be whoever God has created me to be. Finding out who that is is an adventure indeed. :)
When I was 24, I was convinced that I had to be like everybody else. There were a zillion things going on with me emotionally, and I was rarely at peace. My mind was often racing, remembering pain that people had caused me, and there was at least one occasion where I fantasized about violently causing pain back. In hindsight, I know that I needed to forgive people for a lot of stuff. The Bible basically says that if you don’t forgive somebody, you will be tortured. I know firsthand that that is true! Constantly thinking about and reliving an offense doesn’t make it go away. It stays there, making you angrier and angrier, and eventually the anger inside you turns into depression, and you get eaten from the inside out.
Anyway, I was very miserable. I was suicidal, no joke, for probably most of this year. During one Christian counseling session (maybe when I was 23), I basically said that I was in a hole, and I was allowing God to pull me out of it... but I wanted to just stay in the hole. Much later that year, I think in early 2001, I had a very powerful, simple encounter with God that I see now as one of the major turning points in my emotional healing. (The details are much too private to share online, but I’d be happy to share with you in person if you’re curious. :))
I had no practical outlets to express my anger or depression, and I had no practical escapes to relieve me from any of my misery. I considered TV and movies to be evil unless they told some godly story or were created by a Christian studio. (Yet I worked at a public TV station at the time. I know, huh? I was really confused and messed up!) I would come home to my very disorderly, very dirty apartment that I had become afraid to live in anymore. Actually, fear basically controlled my life.
Now that I am 34, fear isn’t welcome in my life, and I want God to be at the center of everything. I actually caught myself asking Him the other day if I could please wash dishes one evening... BECAUSE WASHING DISHES NOW RELAXES ME!! This is definitely an act of God. :) Now I work at a company that enhances TV and movies for deaf and hearing impaired viewers. Instead of throwing away TV and movies as pastimes altogether, I think I’ve finally learned to be picky enough about what I watch to enjoy it without worshiping it. There is more balance in my life now.
I’m very zealous about my emotional well-being. Although there have been a few times recently when the pit of depression has been very available to sink back into again, I trust God now. (He’s the One who pulls me out of the pit -- He can rescue anyone who will let Him.) He’s the One who gives me peace. I call out to Him, and He helps me. Sometimes I might have to wait a while, but it’s worth the wait. God is always worth the wait. :) He’s also the One who reminds me about the novel I’m writing and about how I can use it as an outlet to ramble about emotions. Isn’t that awesome? He likes to take manure and turn it into fertilizer!
I’m becoming OK with who I am now. I’m certainly not perfect, but I also certainly don’t have to be exactly like everybody else. I can be whoever God has created me to be. Finding out who that is is an adventure indeed. :)
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The ends of eras
Sigh. I write this post with nostalgia and triumph. Sometimes, good things need to come to an end, even after many happy years. Other times, you know it’s just time to move on. And still other times, you just gotta say, “Good riddance.” Change can be good.
You’re a Pepper, I’m a Barq’s
I don’t think Coke has ever been it for me. Dr Pepper had been my favorite beverage since I was in elementary school. I even went to a college where Dr Pepper was the exclusive beverage provider. (That wasn’t why I chose to go to school there, but it was an awesome bonus!) Anyone who ever went out to eat with me knew that I’d be ordering DP with my meal. As I’ve gotten older, I guess maybe my taste buds have changed or something. I try to drink more water and less soft drinks in general. I still like DP very much, but it seems overly sweet to me sometimes. If I eat fast food, I find myself looking for places (i.e., Whataburger, Jack in the Box, Schlotzsky’s) that serve Barq’s Root Beer. I’ve always liked Barq’s (and I learned almost a decade ago that it has more caffeine than DP), but I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been choosing it over DP. Sigh. Dear Dr Pepper: I’ll always love you, but I have found another. I hope we can still be friends.
I survived Survivor
Survivor had been a Thursday night staple for me for years (see my blog entry from 5/20/09). But this season (I think it’s Heroes vs. Villains?) only has a handful of episodes left, and I just BARELY tuned in to watch the other night for the first time this spring. I think they’ve got 2 people on the jury now. And Rupert, my favorite survivor ever, is playing! Yet I really don’t care about this show anymore! It was definitely fun while it lasted, and I’ll try to make an effort to watch the season finale this time (I think it’s usually around Mother’s Day), but I’ve just got other things going on now. And that’s not just for Survivor. I’ve pretty much stopped watching regular TV, except for a few shows that I watch religiously: The Middle on Wednesday nights, Untold Stories of the ER whenever it’s on on Sunday afternoons, and V on Tuesday nights. I noticed that TV was sucking up so much of my time. Instead, I watch prerecorded TV shows or movies on my DVD player/VCR. That way, I get to control the content I watch and also the amount of time I spend watching it. I used to watch TV this way, but the past year or so, I started just letting Nick at Nite or TLC control my evenings. (Now I have more time to blog. :D) Later, I might catch some of this season’s episodes of The Office online. (A major exception to this, though, is the Olympics. Winter or summer, I’ll be glued to my TV for pretty much the entire 3 weeks. Non-football sports -- whoo-hoo!)
ThisSpace vacant
Starting a MySpace page about 5 years ago was a blessing. It was fun to connect with old friends and meet new friends that way. I’m not exactly sure what happened between then and now. Now, most everyone I know is on Facebook and/or Twitter. MySpace has become this weird, uncomfortable place where rap and indie artists I’ve never heard of want me to support their music and strangers want me to hook up with them. All I have to do is log in for a few minutes, and suddenly I have 2 or 3 new friend requests. Freaks me out! So, very soon, I’ll disappear from MySpace, which seems to be an antiquated, cheap copy of Facebook/Twitter now. It was awesome to be able to see some real friends on MySpace, who shared TheirSpace, and it was OurSpace. But now it’s IckySpace, so I’m OuttaThereSpace.
Sigh. Something new. :)
You’re a Pepper, I’m a Barq’s
I don’t think Coke has ever been it for me. Dr Pepper had been my favorite beverage since I was in elementary school. I even went to a college where Dr Pepper was the exclusive beverage provider. (That wasn’t why I chose to go to school there, but it was an awesome bonus!) Anyone who ever went out to eat with me knew that I’d be ordering DP with my meal. As I’ve gotten older, I guess maybe my taste buds have changed or something. I try to drink more water and less soft drinks in general. I still like DP very much, but it seems overly sweet to me sometimes. If I eat fast food, I find myself looking for places (i.e., Whataburger, Jack in the Box, Schlotzsky’s) that serve Barq’s Root Beer. I’ve always liked Barq’s (and I learned almost a decade ago that it has more caffeine than DP), but I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been choosing it over DP. Sigh. Dear Dr Pepper: I’ll always love you, but I have found another. I hope we can still be friends.
I survived Survivor
Survivor had been a Thursday night staple for me for years (see my blog entry from 5/20/09). But this season (I think it’s Heroes vs. Villains?) only has a handful of episodes left, and I just BARELY tuned in to watch the other night for the first time this spring. I think they’ve got 2 people on the jury now. And Rupert, my favorite survivor ever, is playing! Yet I really don’t care about this show anymore! It was definitely fun while it lasted, and I’ll try to make an effort to watch the season finale this time (I think it’s usually around Mother’s Day), but I’ve just got other things going on now. And that’s not just for Survivor. I’ve pretty much stopped watching regular TV, except for a few shows that I watch religiously: The Middle on Wednesday nights, Untold Stories of the ER whenever it’s on on Sunday afternoons, and V on Tuesday nights. I noticed that TV was sucking up so much of my time. Instead, I watch prerecorded TV shows or movies on my DVD player/VCR. That way, I get to control the content I watch and also the amount of time I spend watching it. I used to watch TV this way, but the past year or so, I started just letting Nick at Nite or TLC control my evenings. (Now I have more time to blog. :D) Later, I might catch some of this season’s episodes of The Office online. (A major exception to this, though, is the Olympics. Winter or summer, I’ll be glued to my TV for pretty much the entire 3 weeks. Non-football sports -- whoo-hoo!)
ThisSpace vacant
Starting a MySpace page about 5 years ago was a blessing. It was fun to connect with old friends and meet new friends that way. I’m not exactly sure what happened between then and now. Now, most everyone I know is on Facebook and/or Twitter. MySpace has become this weird, uncomfortable place where rap and indie artists I’ve never heard of want me to support their music and strangers want me to hook up with them. All I have to do is log in for a few minutes, and suddenly I have 2 or 3 new friend requests. Freaks me out! So, very soon, I’ll disappear from MySpace, which seems to be an antiquated, cheap copy of Facebook/Twitter now. It was awesome to be able to see some real friends on MySpace, who shared TheirSpace, and it was OurSpace. But now it’s IckySpace, so I’m OuttaThereSpace.
Sigh. Something new. :)
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
My God can beat up your god
At the beginning of every spring, at least one of the feral girl cats who live by the pool in my apartment complex will be in heat and come upstairs to look for my boy cat. I assume they can smell his manly cat odor or something, but he’s fixed and can’t produce kittens. Plus, he lives exclusively indoors and isn’t allowed outside at all. (Not that he’d want to go. He often runs and hides anytime strangers come to visit.) My girl cat, however, will bravely fight off anyone. She’s fixed, too, but you really don’t want to mess with her. (I can show you some recent scabs/scars on my hand, wrist, and shoulder.)
One recent morning, I was getting ready for work when I heard a loud thud. I thought maybe one of the maintenance men had thrown something against somebody’s front door or something. I meandered over to the living room and saw that, sure enough, a feral girl cat on my patio had thrown herself onto the window of my sliding door. She was fighting with my girl cat, who was already doing this meow/growl thing by the time I got there. (This feral black cat is one who I’ve known for a while. She’s already had at least 2 litters of apartment-complex kittens.) I tried to calm down my girl cat, and I picked her up to show the feral cat that she was fighting one of mine. She was on my territory and was not welcome here, not if she was going to pick a fight with my cat. I tried to get the intruder to leave my patio by jiggling the sliding door handle, but it didn’t work. Instead, she stroked her cheek on the exterior wall to mark her territory. I unlocked the door and went outside, my hair still wet from my shower, and followed the feral cat downstairs, and I tried to reason with her through the bars of the pool gate that she had fled to. “Hey, leave my kitty alone,” I basically told her. “I’ve always been nice to you.”
The next day, the feral cat returned, but this time, I was in the room with my girl cat when the intruder came. I stroked my cheek on my girl cat to show the intruder that she was mine, and I told the intruder to go away because she wasn’t welcome here. My girl cat was alarmed but calm while I was doing the talking. I shooed the feral cat away. To my knowledge, she hasn’t returned.
God often teaches me a lot about His character and how He feels about me through my cats. God wants to protect me and fight for me anytime the devil comes around to attack me. My girl cat doesn’t have to worry about the feral cat whenever she’s with me. Similarly, Psalm 27 says, “The Lord is the stronghold of my life -- of whom shall I be afraid?” My God can pulverize anything that comes against me.
Maybe now I should teach my boy cat not to be such a scaredy-cat.
One recent morning, I was getting ready for work when I heard a loud thud. I thought maybe one of the maintenance men had thrown something against somebody’s front door or something. I meandered over to the living room and saw that, sure enough, a feral girl cat on my patio had thrown herself onto the window of my sliding door. She was fighting with my girl cat, who was already doing this meow/growl thing by the time I got there. (This feral black cat is one who I’ve known for a while. She’s already had at least 2 litters of apartment-complex kittens.) I tried to calm down my girl cat, and I picked her up to show the feral cat that she was fighting one of mine. She was on my territory and was not welcome here, not if she was going to pick a fight with my cat. I tried to get the intruder to leave my patio by jiggling the sliding door handle, but it didn’t work. Instead, she stroked her cheek on the exterior wall to mark her territory. I unlocked the door and went outside, my hair still wet from my shower, and followed the feral cat downstairs, and I tried to reason with her through the bars of the pool gate that she had fled to. “Hey, leave my kitty alone,” I basically told her. “I’ve always been nice to you.”
The next day, the feral cat returned, but this time, I was in the room with my girl cat when the intruder came. I stroked my cheek on my girl cat to show the intruder that she was mine, and I told the intruder to go away because she wasn’t welcome here. My girl cat was alarmed but calm while I was doing the talking. I shooed the feral cat away. To my knowledge, she hasn’t returned.
God often teaches me a lot about His character and how He feels about me through my cats. God wants to protect me and fight for me anytime the devil comes around to attack me. My girl cat doesn’t have to worry about the feral cat whenever she’s with me. Similarly, Psalm 27 says, “The Lord is the stronghold of my life -- of whom shall I be afraid?” My God can pulverize anything that comes against me.
Maybe now I should teach my boy cat not to be such a scaredy-cat.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Originally posted 2/15/09 - Valentine, Shmalentine
As a woman in her early 30s who's been single for a very long time, I can usually take Valentine's Day in stride and with lots of silly humor. My friend Debbie and I, back when we shared a blog, enjoyed the days leading up to Valentine's Day 2005 with several posts leading up to Black Monday (i.e., don't punch out deliveryguys who bring flowers to your coworkers). I learned that another name for V-Day was SAD = Single Awareness Day. Those were the days. :)
However, this Valentine's Day 2009 has been extra hard on me for some reason. I decided to call it UPAD = Unsolicited Pity Awareness Day, and I've been trying not to be in a funk all month. I'm not sure if it's because my biological clock has mercilessly kicked it up a notch or because I'm in the final stages (hopefully) of getting over a guy that I've had ridiculously intense feelings for -- whatever reason, V-Day 2009 has been excruciating. I think the fact that it's fallen on a Saturday this year (Black Saturday) has made it worse -- your whole week builds up to it, and you even spend Sunday reminiscing about it or recuperating from it.
I think I heard somewhere that St. Valentine's Day was originally intended to celebrate love in general -- i.e., God's love, brotherly love, family love, etc. -- rather than romantic/erotic love. And maybe over the years, society or the flower and candy companies turned it into a one-day celebration of couples' romance. I'm sorry, but that's an awful idea. When you're romantically involved with someone, you should celebrate them all the time, not just save it for February 14th. And those of us who don't have a significant other to share the day with end up feeling left out, unnecessarily pitied, and left to decay in the reject pile of humankind. And we women try not to spend the entire day hating every man who we've liked but hasn't returned our feelings. (Unrequited love absolutely stinks, by the way, but that is another discussion altogether.)
I can't speak for the guys, but I think any woman who's close to my age and has been dateless for about as long as I have can identify with how I feel. It's a pain that is difficult to comfort. I can pour my heart out to God, and He is always faithful to comfort me and make sure I have everything I need, but the unrequited-guy part of the equation I think is what makes it so hard. Anti-Valentine humor often hits the spot. Changing the subject altogether can feel even better.
So, if you've felt as crappily as I have this month, I think it's best to just go to Jesus and maybe have a good cry with Him, enjoy some UPAD jokes, and just wait for this awful holiday to pass.
I hesitate to blog about my lovelife (or lack thereof!), especially on MySpace, because doing so tends to attract unsolicited flirtatious messages and friend requests from men who I absolutely wouldn't be interested in. Sorry, but I'm just being honest, :) and if you look on my profile, you'll see that I'm not on MySpace for dating purposes, anyway. And that's why I've sat down to write about this in the first place -- brutal honesty. I know that someday God will bring me a man, but while I'm waiting, it can really hurt. I'm learning that it's OK to hurt sometimes. (As long as we take our pain to the right Person.)
In the meantime, I'll try not to spread the pain around by punching any deliveryguys in the nose. And UPAD weekend will be over tomorrow. :) Oh, happy day!
However, this Valentine's Day 2009 has been extra hard on me for some reason. I decided to call it UPAD = Unsolicited Pity Awareness Day, and I've been trying not to be in a funk all month. I'm not sure if it's because my biological clock has mercilessly kicked it up a notch or because I'm in the final stages (hopefully) of getting over a guy that I've had ridiculously intense feelings for -- whatever reason, V-Day 2009 has been excruciating. I think the fact that it's fallen on a Saturday this year (Black Saturday) has made it worse -- your whole week builds up to it, and you even spend Sunday reminiscing about it or recuperating from it.
I think I heard somewhere that St. Valentine's Day was originally intended to celebrate love in general -- i.e., God's love, brotherly love, family love, etc. -- rather than romantic/erotic love. And maybe over the years, society or the flower and candy companies turned it into a one-day celebration of couples' romance. I'm sorry, but that's an awful idea. When you're romantically involved with someone, you should celebrate them all the time, not just save it for February 14th. And those of us who don't have a significant other to share the day with end up feeling left out, unnecessarily pitied, and left to decay in the reject pile of humankind. And we women try not to spend the entire day hating every man who we've liked but hasn't returned our feelings. (Unrequited love absolutely stinks, by the way, but that is another discussion altogether.)
I can't speak for the guys, but I think any woman who's close to my age and has been dateless for about as long as I have can identify with how I feel. It's a pain that is difficult to comfort. I can pour my heart out to God, and He is always faithful to comfort me and make sure I have everything I need, but the unrequited-guy part of the equation I think is what makes it so hard. Anti-Valentine humor often hits the spot. Changing the subject altogether can feel even better.
So, if you've felt as crappily as I have this month, I think it's best to just go to Jesus and maybe have a good cry with Him, enjoy some UPAD jokes, and just wait for this awful holiday to pass.
I hesitate to blog about my lovelife (or lack thereof!), especially on MySpace, because doing so tends to attract unsolicited flirtatious messages and friend requests from men who I absolutely wouldn't be interested in. Sorry, but I'm just being honest, :) and if you look on my profile, you'll see that I'm not on MySpace for dating purposes, anyway. And that's why I've sat down to write about this in the first place -- brutal honesty. I know that someday God will bring me a man, but while I'm waiting, it can really hurt. I'm learning that it's OK to hurt sometimes. (As long as we take our pain to the right Person.)
In the meantime, I'll try not to spread the pain around by punching any deliveryguys in the nose. And UPAD weekend will be over tomorrow. :) Oh, happy day!
Originally posted 1/11/09 - Half-breed power!
OK, I haven't thought of a nice way to say "half-breed" yet, except maybe "half-ethnic." (Shucks, even "half-baked" probably wouldn't offend me, depending on the attitude behind your words. (Please see my previous blog post.)) If you've read the "About me" section of my profile, you'll see that I'm half-Hispanic, half-Anglo.
I wonder if the government will ever recognize the fact that as a society diversifies, many of us aren't minorities but half-minorities. I'm happy to see more and more surveys (that ask you to "check one" box to indicate your race/ethnicity) are asking you to "check all that apply." I have a feeling that my generation and more generations to come will see more and more ethnic diversification as time goes by.
My parents, as well as many of my aunts and uncles, crossed ethnic lines and intermarried (Hispanics and Anglos). I think maybe the Civil Rights Movement that began in the 60s had a lot to do with all this intermarriage. And it's not just my family. I know of at least 3 other half-ethnic friends who are hopefully reading this. :) And that's not even counting my brother-in-law and his sister, who are 1/4-Hispanic. Every time I sit down to do the math, it hurts my head -- technically, if my half-Hispanic sister and 1/4-Hispanic brother-in-law have children, what percentage of Hispanic would they be? 3/8? :)
Anyway, I don't consider myself to be a racist, and I truly hope my over-fascination with ethnicities isn't offensive. It's just that when you're raised by an originally Mexican mother who is extremely Americanized and an Anglo father who wishes he were Hispanic, you grow up wrestling with this issue. A friend of mine observed that we half-ethnics tend to do this pendulum swing between the ends of our backgrounds -- either we're really into our ethnicity or we aren't. And she's right.
When I was in high school and really laying down the foundation for what I would do the rest of my life, I totally embraced my Hispanicness. Almost the majority of my high school was Hispanic, so I was fairly immersed in the culture and language. In college, I was often the only Hispanic in my circle of friends, so I kind of took it upon myself to be the Hispanic chick. After college, being fairly bilingual helped me land some jobs.
But somewhere along the line, I started to get burned out. I either got tired of being forced to speak Spanish so much or the Anglo side of my roots started to scream neglect -- I'm not sure exactly what. But eventually, I started insisting on speaking English unless the other person just didn't understand it. Porque de veras no me gusta hablar tanto español. It's not who I am. I'M HALF!!
And I kind of enjoy fooling people with the diversity of my appearance. :) (Some have thought I'm Middle-Eastern.) Yes, sometimes perfect strangers will walk up to me at the store or post office, etc., and ask me a question in Spanish, and if I can't answer them perfectly, or even relate to them completely, I don't have to sweat it anymore -- I'M HALF!! I can just do my best and live my life. Hallelujah. :)
And I'm in good company. President-elect Obama, who will become the first African-American President, is actually half-black, from what I understand.
I think in a lot of ways, we half-ethnics have the best of both worlds. And in the process of finding out where we fit in this world, we learn how to adapt and relate to others. In this world that over-categorizes everything, we have to train ourselves to become maybe a little less judgmental and maybe a little more practical. Trying to find where you belong can get exhausting.
As a Christian, it helps more than anything to learn about how my place is with Christ and that I need to just walk in whatever purpose God created me to fulfill. (Incidentally, my sister and I both turned out to be pretty artsy-fartsy.)
So, open your eyes, America. Many of your citizens are half-minorities or even a patchwork quilt of ethnicities. Our Creator thinks we're wonderfully made.
And I think when you mix ethnicities like that, you get some pretty darn good-looking children. :o) LOL!
I wonder if the government will ever recognize the fact that as a society diversifies, many of us aren't minorities but half-minorities. I'm happy to see more and more surveys (that ask you to "check one" box to indicate your race/ethnicity) are asking you to "check all that apply." I have a feeling that my generation and more generations to come will see more and more ethnic diversification as time goes by.
My parents, as well as many of my aunts and uncles, crossed ethnic lines and intermarried (Hispanics and Anglos). I think maybe the Civil Rights Movement that began in the 60s had a lot to do with all this intermarriage. And it's not just my family. I know of at least 3 other half-ethnic friends who are hopefully reading this. :) And that's not even counting my brother-in-law and his sister, who are 1/4-Hispanic. Every time I sit down to do the math, it hurts my head -- technically, if my half-Hispanic sister and 1/4-Hispanic brother-in-law have children, what percentage of Hispanic would they be? 3/8? :)
Anyway, I don't consider myself to be a racist, and I truly hope my over-fascination with ethnicities isn't offensive. It's just that when you're raised by an originally Mexican mother who is extremely Americanized and an Anglo father who wishes he were Hispanic, you grow up wrestling with this issue. A friend of mine observed that we half-ethnics tend to do this pendulum swing between the ends of our backgrounds -- either we're really into our ethnicity or we aren't. And she's right.
When I was in high school and really laying down the foundation for what I would do the rest of my life, I totally embraced my Hispanicness. Almost the majority of my high school was Hispanic, so I was fairly immersed in the culture and language. In college, I was often the only Hispanic in my circle of friends, so I kind of took it upon myself to be the Hispanic chick. After college, being fairly bilingual helped me land some jobs.
But somewhere along the line, I started to get burned out. I either got tired of being forced to speak Spanish so much or the Anglo side of my roots started to scream neglect -- I'm not sure exactly what. But eventually, I started insisting on speaking English unless the other person just didn't understand it. Porque de veras no me gusta hablar tanto español. It's not who I am. I'M HALF!!
And I kind of enjoy fooling people with the diversity of my appearance. :) (Some have thought I'm Middle-Eastern.) Yes, sometimes perfect strangers will walk up to me at the store or post office, etc., and ask me a question in Spanish, and if I can't answer them perfectly, or even relate to them completely, I don't have to sweat it anymore -- I'M HALF!! I can just do my best and live my life. Hallelujah. :)
And I'm in good company. President-elect Obama, who will become the first African-American President, is actually half-black, from what I understand.
I think in a lot of ways, we half-ethnics have the best of both worlds. And in the process of finding out where we fit in this world, we learn how to adapt and relate to others. In this world that over-categorizes everything, we have to train ourselves to become maybe a little less judgmental and maybe a little more practical. Trying to find where you belong can get exhausting.
As a Christian, it helps more than anything to learn about how my place is with Christ and that I need to just walk in whatever purpose God created me to fulfill. (Incidentally, my sister and I both turned out to be pretty artsy-fartsy.)
So, open your eyes, America. Many of your citizens are half-minorities or even a patchwork quilt of ethnicities. Our Creator thinks we're wonderfully made.
And I think when you mix ethnicities like that, you get some pretty darn good-looking children. :o) LOL!
Originally posted 1/4/09 - Hey! Are you toleratin' me?
Excuse me for not being politically correct, but I'm not so crazy about this concept of "tolerance," or at least its terminology. And tolerance, of course (my understanding of its definition, anyway), is the concept of putting up with people and their ideas, etc., no matter how different they are from you.
I used to think that tolerance was all a bunch of baloney until I spent some time in West Texas and met some people who probably inspired this entire concept. Yes, there are still hicks who emerge from the middle of nowhere and assimilate into society. (Unfortunately, it ain't always pretty.) One day, I was quite shocked to hear a newspaper editor declare, "Everyone in Dallas is a bunch of liars." (For the full effect, pronounce that last word as "lah-erz.") I can understand that this guy was probably expresssing frustration, but it was a rather large office, and he was risking offending people unnecessarily. Come to think of it, I don't remember him telling me goodbye or wishing me well when I left that newspaper job to move to Dallas several months later.
Now, if I had expressed exactly how I had felt, which was, "Everyone in West Texas is a bunch of backwoods, backwards hicks," of course I wouldn't have been accurate, because I do know some folks in that part of the country who are nice enough to give you the shirt off their back if you needed it. But I publicly held my tongue mainly because it wouldn't be wise to offend people unnecessarily and because I don't appreciate it when people show me a lack of respect.
And that's really the gist of it. I'd like to propose that instead of "tolerance," we call it "social respect," because I don't think "tolerance" has a positive connotation. I mean, when people see me coming, I don't want them to think, "Oh, here comes Tirzah. I have to tolerate her." I want them to think, "I have to respect Tirzah because I appreciate it when people respect me." I mean, there are a lot of things that I tolerate because I otherwise can't stand them. Like the fact that my downstairs neighbor smokes indoors and the cigarette odor floats into my apartment, and then I have to crank up my air purifier, spray air freshener in every room, open some windows, etc. I tolerate it because I know that my neighbor will possibly move out in a year after the lease is up.
From a Christian standpoint, Jesus did say that loving your neighbor as yourself is the second greatest commandment. I don't think it's an accident that the word "neighbor" is used for this. I'm sure God knows that the people who live closest to us are the ones who can get under our skin the most. :) And as far as tolerance/social respect goes, I'm not talking about accepting it when people overtly sin according to what's in the Bible (adultery, homosexuality, idolatry, etc.), and that's probably another topic of discussion altogether. I'm just talking about being sensitive about the words that we allow to spew out of our mouths when we're talking about people. And I'm talking about our attitude towards people who are different than us.
And while I'm on a PC subject, I think one's attitude is what really matters here. For instance, I had a conversation once with a black friend of mine in which I referred to her as an African-American woman. She got very angry and told me not to throw that "African-American crap" in her face because she had never been to Africa. I apologized, and I learned the hard way that lots of people prefer the term "black" (especially in the Dallas area).
Yet recently, I met some church people from Irving, and while I was at their house, a little boy announced proudly throughout the evening, "I'm half African-American." I replied, "I'm half Hispanic." (If I had said, "I'm half Mexican," it would have been accurate, and I used to work with a half-Nicaraguan chick who insisted on this accuracy. But to my mother, who is originally from Mexico, "Mexican" has a bad connotation because of the malicious attitude that people displayed towards her and other Texas Hispanics before the Civil Rights Movement.) And... OH! I shouldn't have gotten myself started on how we half-ethnics are more in the minority than the minorities themselves, but I'll have to save that discussion for another blog post. :">
Anyway, my point is that our attitude matters, and I think it's more important to respect someone than it is to "tolerate" them. After all, I appreciate it when others do the same for me. :) And that ain't no baloney.
I used to think that tolerance was all a bunch of baloney until I spent some time in West Texas and met some people who probably inspired this entire concept. Yes, there are still hicks who emerge from the middle of nowhere and assimilate into society. (Unfortunately, it ain't always pretty.) One day, I was quite shocked to hear a newspaper editor declare, "Everyone in Dallas is a bunch of liars." (For the full effect, pronounce that last word as "lah-erz.") I can understand that this guy was probably expresssing frustration, but it was a rather large office, and he was risking offending people unnecessarily. Come to think of it, I don't remember him telling me goodbye or wishing me well when I left that newspaper job to move to Dallas several months later.
Now, if I had expressed exactly how I had felt, which was, "Everyone in West Texas is a bunch of backwoods, backwards hicks," of course I wouldn't have been accurate, because I do know some folks in that part of the country who are nice enough to give you the shirt off their back if you needed it. But I publicly held my tongue mainly because it wouldn't be wise to offend people unnecessarily and because I don't appreciate it when people show me a lack of respect.
And that's really the gist of it. I'd like to propose that instead of "tolerance," we call it "social respect," because I don't think "tolerance" has a positive connotation. I mean, when people see me coming, I don't want them to think, "Oh, here comes Tirzah. I have to tolerate her." I want them to think, "I have to respect Tirzah because I appreciate it when people respect me." I mean, there are a lot of things that I tolerate because I otherwise can't stand them. Like the fact that my downstairs neighbor smokes indoors and the cigarette odor floats into my apartment, and then I have to crank up my air purifier, spray air freshener in every room, open some windows, etc. I tolerate it because I know that my neighbor will possibly move out in a year after the lease is up.
From a Christian standpoint, Jesus did say that loving your neighbor as yourself is the second greatest commandment. I don't think it's an accident that the word "neighbor" is used for this. I'm sure God knows that the people who live closest to us are the ones who can get under our skin the most. :) And as far as tolerance/social respect goes, I'm not talking about accepting it when people overtly sin according to what's in the Bible (adultery, homosexuality, idolatry, etc.), and that's probably another topic of discussion altogether. I'm just talking about being sensitive about the words that we allow to spew out of our mouths when we're talking about people. And I'm talking about our attitude towards people who are different than us.
And while I'm on a PC subject, I think one's attitude is what really matters here. For instance, I had a conversation once with a black friend of mine in which I referred to her as an African-American woman. She got very angry and told me not to throw that "African-American crap" in her face because she had never been to Africa. I apologized, and I learned the hard way that lots of people prefer the term "black" (especially in the Dallas area).
Yet recently, I met some church people from Irving, and while I was at their house, a little boy announced proudly throughout the evening, "I'm half African-American." I replied, "I'm half Hispanic." (If I had said, "I'm half Mexican," it would have been accurate, and I used to work with a half-Nicaraguan chick who insisted on this accuracy. But to my mother, who is originally from Mexico, "Mexican" has a bad connotation because of the malicious attitude that people displayed towards her and other Texas Hispanics before the Civil Rights Movement.) And... OH! I shouldn't have gotten myself started on how we half-ethnics are more in the minority than the minorities themselves, but I'll have to save that discussion for another blog post. :">
Anyway, my point is that our attitude matters, and I think it's more important to respect someone than it is to "tolerate" them. After all, I appreciate it when others do the same for me. :) And that ain't no baloney.
Originally posted 12/21/08 - Consumer ramblings: auto industry bailout
Some of you who are my friends on Facebook read an article that I posted (http://biz.yahoo.com/usnews/081114/14_10_cars_that_sank_detroit.html?.&.pf=insurance) in which one writer tells his POV about why the U.S. auto industry has been hurting for money -- shoddy products and arrogant attitudes were the reasons that stuck out to me -- and I couldn't agree more.
After I graduated college and was an impoverished pedestrian, my parents came into some money and bought me a new car. It was a very generous gift that I'll always be thankful for. I loved my little Dodge Neon (I named him Trekkerdude). He was a trusty, nifty little vehicle... until he started breaking down.
I was very naive when I first got Trekkerdude, and after the A/C went out, about 9 months after I got it, I took it to a local mechanic (instead of finding a Dodge dealership to honor the warranty). The mechanic, who was very blunt and kind of rude, told me, "It's not a good car." As time went on, I kept getting recall notices in the mail (probably about a dozen of them) that confused me, so I ignored them.
I had my first wreck almost 2 years after I first got Trekkerdude. The car I rear-ended -- a Honda Accord, I think -- didn't even get a scratch. But my beloved little Neon got its front end bashed in real good. While it was in the shop, I rented a Ford Escort. Now, I used to make fun of people who drove Escorts, because they'd always drive so slowly and it was frustrating to be stuck behind them. (Incidentally, I've noticed the same thing about Mustangs.) Then I found out why! The freakin' Escort wouldn't accelerate! Yes, I had driven a Ford lately, and I wasn't too happy with it.
Wreck #2 with Trekkerdude happened about 14 months later. This time, it wasn't my fault, but the repairs were still slowgoing. While Trekkerdude was in the shop, I rented a brand-new Dodge Neon (while I missed mine terribly). One day while I was leaving a friend's place, the freakin' Neon wouldn't start! I had to get a tow truck and go back to the rental car place, where I rented a Chevy Cavalier. Which was OK, but I found it to be awkward and kind of clunky. (The steering wheel was fat and chunky. Sorry, but my fingers don't really have that big a grip.)
I still loved my Trekkerdude, my little Dodge Neon. We had been through a lot together. And I would have gladly bought another one if its deterioration weren't so scary. After rebuilding the transmission at around 76,000 miles, replacing the power steering pump twice, fixing the A/C for the third time, replacing the motor mounts, and a ton of other repairs through the years, I was exhausted from spending my Saturdays in smelly, crowded mechanics' waiting rooms and spending my hard-earned money on repairs. After Trekkerdude hit 100,000 miles, he just didn't feel safe to drive anymore.
Through the years, I noticed that my friends who drove used cars usually had Toyotas or Hondas that seemed to last for a long time. My family has almost always driven Fords, Buicks, or Chryslers/Dodges. (When I was a kid, we had a brand-new Ford Fiesta, but only my dad could drive it because the steering wheel would lock up on everyone else. Weird...) I had always been taught to buy domestic and keep my money in the U.S. But, darn it, as I got older and have been able to be a little picker about how I spend my money, U.S. carmakers just didn't prove to me that they could make a vehicle that I could drive safely and long-term. So, as my Trekkerdude deteriorated, I found myself staying up late researching foreign cars on the internet... and dreaming.
My dream came true kind of spontaneously after I bought a new Corolla from a local Toyota dealership this past summer. (I had hoped to drive Trekkerdude for another year, but it was getting scarier.) I doubted the timing of my purchase, but with the economy going crazy later in the year, I'm convinced now more than ever that God made sure I got my Toyota exactly when I needed it. :)
And it's not like I'm any less patriotic for purchasing a foreign model. I didn't travel to Japan to buy it. And I mail my payments to a Dallas address. God bless America, and God bless my new car for many years to come. Just because I love my country doesn't mean I have to be stuck with a low-quality domestic car.
All that to say, I think it's ridiculous for the government to have to rescue or loan money to the U.S. auto industry. Simply put, if they'd make better cars, people would want to buy them. I think this is an example of competition at its finest -- people like me who think domestic cars are kind of embarrassing to be called American and who choose to spend our money on a product that we feel is safer and more reliable.
The only sympathy I have for the U.S. auto industry is for its employees who'd be seriously hurting if the government didn't step in. It's a shame, really, that it's come to this, but I guess we gotta do what we gotta do. I truly hope that the rescue/bailout accomplishes everything it needs to, and that the money goes to the people who really need it. :)
In the meantime, for crying out loud -- Ford, please design a car that will actually accelerate when you want it to. Chevrolet, please design a car that isn't so awkward to drive. And Dodge, your customers are human beings who put their lives inside your cars when they drive them, and they don't appreciate it when mechanics look under the hood, chuckle, and remark, "It's just so Mickey Mouse."
Oh, what a feeling.
After I graduated college and was an impoverished pedestrian, my parents came into some money and bought me a new car. It was a very generous gift that I'll always be thankful for. I loved my little Dodge Neon (I named him Trekkerdude). He was a trusty, nifty little vehicle... until he started breaking down.
I was very naive when I first got Trekkerdude, and after the A/C went out, about 9 months after I got it, I took it to a local mechanic (instead of finding a Dodge dealership to honor the warranty). The mechanic, who was very blunt and kind of rude, told me, "It's not a good car." As time went on, I kept getting recall notices in the mail (probably about a dozen of them) that confused me, so I ignored them.
I had my first wreck almost 2 years after I first got Trekkerdude. The car I rear-ended -- a Honda Accord, I think -- didn't even get a scratch. But my beloved little Neon got its front end bashed in real good. While it was in the shop, I rented a Ford Escort. Now, I used to make fun of people who drove Escorts, because they'd always drive so slowly and it was frustrating to be stuck behind them. (Incidentally, I've noticed the same thing about Mustangs.) Then I found out why! The freakin' Escort wouldn't accelerate! Yes, I had driven a Ford lately, and I wasn't too happy with it.
Wreck #2 with Trekkerdude happened about 14 months later. This time, it wasn't my fault, but the repairs were still slowgoing. While Trekkerdude was in the shop, I rented a brand-new Dodge Neon (while I missed mine terribly). One day while I was leaving a friend's place, the freakin' Neon wouldn't start! I had to get a tow truck and go back to the rental car place, where I rented a Chevy Cavalier. Which was OK, but I found it to be awkward and kind of clunky. (The steering wheel was fat and chunky. Sorry, but my fingers don't really have that big a grip.)
I still loved my Trekkerdude, my little Dodge Neon. We had been through a lot together. And I would have gladly bought another one if its deterioration weren't so scary. After rebuilding the transmission at around 76,000 miles, replacing the power steering pump twice, fixing the A/C for the third time, replacing the motor mounts, and a ton of other repairs through the years, I was exhausted from spending my Saturdays in smelly, crowded mechanics' waiting rooms and spending my hard-earned money on repairs. After Trekkerdude hit 100,000 miles, he just didn't feel safe to drive anymore.
Through the years, I noticed that my friends who drove used cars usually had Toyotas or Hondas that seemed to last for a long time. My family has almost always driven Fords, Buicks, or Chryslers/Dodges. (When I was a kid, we had a brand-new Ford Fiesta, but only my dad could drive it because the steering wheel would lock up on everyone else. Weird...) I had always been taught to buy domestic and keep my money in the U.S. But, darn it, as I got older and have been able to be a little picker about how I spend my money, U.S. carmakers just didn't prove to me that they could make a vehicle that I could drive safely and long-term. So, as my Trekkerdude deteriorated, I found myself staying up late researching foreign cars on the internet... and dreaming.
My dream came true kind of spontaneously after I bought a new Corolla from a local Toyota dealership this past summer. (I had hoped to drive Trekkerdude for another year, but it was getting scarier.) I doubted the timing of my purchase, but with the economy going crazy later in the year, I'm convinced now more than ever that God made sure I got my Toyota exactly when I needed it. :)
And it's not like I'm any less patriotic for purchasing a foreign model. I didn't travel to Japan to buy it. And I mail my payments to a Dallas address. God bless America, and God bless my new car for many years to come. Just because I love my country doesn't mean I have to be stuck with a low-quality domestic car.
All that to say, I think it's ridiculous for the government to have to rescue or loan money to the U.S. auto industry. Simply put, if they'd make better cars, people would want to buy them. I think this is an example of competition at its finest -- people like me who think domestic cars are kind of embarrassing to be called American and who choose to spend our money on a product that we feel is safer and more reliable.
The only sympathy I have for the U.S. auto industry is for its employees who'd be seriously hurting if the government didn't step in. It's a shame, really, that it's come to this, but I guess we gotta do what we gotta do. I truly hope that the rescue/bailout accomplishes everything it needs to, and that the money goes to the people who really need it. :)
In the meantime, for crying out loud -- Ford, please design a car that will actually accelerate when you want it to. Chevrolet, please design a car that isn't so awkward to drive. And Dodge, your customers are human beings who put their lives inside your cars when they drive them, and they don't appreciate it when mechanics look under the hood, chuckle, and remark, "It's just so Mickey Mouse."
Oh, what a feeling.
Originally posted 12/14/08 - Tirzah’s deep thoughts 2 (Christmas edition)
1) I think eating pizza at Christmas can be just as festive as turkey. All you'd have to do is change a few song lyrics of The Christmas Song: "Everybody knows / A pizza and some cinna-stix / Will help to make the season bright."
2) I wonder if anyone has ever been able to convince their kid that an airplane flying at night with its blinking red lights is really Rudolph and his colleagues.
3) Probably the only way that Santa would be able to deliver millions of toys in one night using a low-tech transportation device would be to clone himself.
4) I wonder if walking around with mistletoe tied to the top of my head would help me get a date.
5) Why isn't it traditional to drink egg nog all year 'round? That is some good stuff.
6) It's probably a good thing that Halloween comes before Christmas. By then, you're probably already used to groups of people knocking on your door or driving by your house to stare at it.
7) When did people start building snowmen? Did some farmers get the idea after their scarecrows got snowed over or something? And what about snowwomen? or snowcats? or snowdogs chasing snowsquirrels?
8) It's a good thing that God made evergreen trees. It would look kinda silly decorating the branches of a leafless tree for your living room.
9) I think the Carpenters probably get more radio airtime in December than at any other time of the year, because their Christmas music is so nice. But the radio-programming people need to understand that the Carpenters are nice to hear all year 'round. Bless the beasts and the children.
10) Any Scrooges out there should have the Dickens scared out of them anytime they diss Christmas.
2) I wonder if anyone has ever been able to convince their kid that an airplane flying at night with its blinking red lights is really Rudolph and his colleagues.
3) Probably the only way that Santa would be able to deliver millions of toys in one night using a low-tech transportation device would be to clone himself.
4) I wonder if walking around with mistletoe tied to the top of my head would help me get a date.
5) Why isn't it traditional to drink egg nog all year 'round? That is some good stuff.
6) It's probably a good thing that Halloween comes before Christmas. By then, you're probably already used to groups of people knocking on your door or driving by your house to stare at it.
7) When did people start building snowmen? Did some farmers get the idea after their scarecrows got snowed over or something? And what about snowwomen? or snowcats? or snowdogs chasing snowsquirrels?
8) It's a good thing that God made evergreen trees. It would look kinda silly decorating the branches of a leafless tree for your living room.
9) I think the Carpenters probably get more radio airtime in December than at any other time of the year, because their Christmas music is so nice. But the radio-programming people need to understand that the Carpenters are nice to hear all year 'round. Bless the beasts and the children.
10) Any Scrooges out there should have the Dickens scared out of them anytime they diss Christmas.
Originally posted 12/8/08 - Hogging the holidays
Christmas is one of those simple things that we tend to complicate. It's when we celebrate the birth of the Christ -- when the God of the universe sent His Son to be born into this world as a human so that humanity could be reconciled to God. Hence all the joy, peace, and good will. That's why we say "Merry Christmas" (or "Happy Christmas").
And no, not everybody believes in or celebrates Christmas, and it's important to be sensitive to that. Just as long as we don't snuff out Christmas.
Here's where it gets really complicated. Scholars have debated for years about whether Jesus was really born on December 25th. And then there's the winter solstice, which I think was some sort of pagan holiday at some point in history, where they'd decorate winter trees, etc. And people get mad about mixing the Christian celebration with the secular holiday on whichever day it's supposed to be celebrated. And THEN people start obsessing with the overcommercialization of it all, and they flock to Wal-Mart and accidentally trample an employee to death (see my previous blog entry). It's enough to discourage anyone from celebrating the holiday at all.
I used to get mad when I'd walk into a store right after Halloween and see all the Christmas merchandise that was already on display. "What the heck happened to Thanksgiving?!?" I'd wonder. Now, Xmas merchandise is on the shelves as early as September.
As a side note, that's another thing. "Xmas" isn't offensive. It's shorthand. From what I understand, the "X" is the Greek letter from which the word "Christ" is formed. (If my language professor dad is reading this, I hope I've done this explanation justice. :))
I'm not offended by seeing Christmas merchandise in September anymore. I say Christmas is a holiday that only comes once a year, so let's enjoy it as thoroughly as we can, for as long as we can. :) Whether or not December 25th is the actual day that Christ was born, that's the day that's designated on the calendar to observe it, so observe it with the gusto that it deserves. :)
I've never had a child, but from what I understand about the pregnancy process, the anticipation of celebrating Christ's birth at Christmastime is similar to the anticipation of a baby's arrival. During the 9-month pregnancy, there's a lot of preparation, planning, excitement, eagerness, exhaustion, joy -- an all-out celebration of the precious life to come. Similarly, starting the day after Thanksgiving (or sometime in September, for that matter), there's a whirlwind of activity and celebration that culminates into a single event that's over before you know it on Christmas morning (or Christmas Eve for some families), with the celebration lingering through New Year's.
As another side note, columnist Ken Brodnax from the Odessa American out in West Texas cleverly labeled a phenomenon as the "holiday hangover" a few years ago. (I couldn't locate the article online; otherwise, I would have pasted the link here for your enjoyment. :)) He says the holiday hangover is a slump that we feel on January and February after celebrating so many holidays from Thanksgiving through New Year's. So, from his point of view, the new year REALLY starts in March (because we're so hung over in January and February). :)
And Christmas is a family holiday (after all, it's when God shared His family with us), whether you can stand hanging out with your family or not. :) One Christmas several years ago, I decided to use my vacation time for New Year's instead of Christmas to visit my family on my mom's birthday. On December 25th, I hung out with a friend in Waco and had fun with her, but for most of the day, my heart was seriously aching to be with my family. That was the only Christmas that I didn't spend with any family. (And I vowed never again!)
So, here's the deal. Keep Christmas simply, thoroughly, and cheerfully, and try not to get wrapped up in the secular commercialism. But just enjoy! Celebrate! Live! Rejoice! Relax! Hang out with family! Chill with friends! Stare at some Christmas lights! Sing some Christmas carols! Taste some egg nog! Throw snowballs if you got 'em! Savor as much of the season as you can, for as long as you can! And remember the One we owe the celebration to in the first place! :)
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!
And God bless us, every one!
And no, not everybody believes in or celebrates Christmas, and it's important to be sensitive to that. Just as long as we don't snuff out Christmas.
Here's where it gets really complicated. Scholars have debated for years about whether Jesus was really born on December 25th. And then there's the winter solstice, which I think was some sort of pagan holiday at some point in history, where they'd decorate winter trees, etc. And people get mad about mixing the Christian celebration with the secular holiday on whichever day it's supposed to be celebrated. And THEN people start obsessing with the overcommercialization of it all, and they flock to Wal-Mart and accidentally trample an employee to death (see my previous blog entry). It's enough to discourage anyone from celebrating the holiday at all.
I used to get mad when I'd walk into a store right after Halloween and see all the Christmas merchandise that was already on display. "What the heck happened to Thanksgiving?!?" I'd wonder. Now, Xmas merchandise is on the shelves as early as September.
As a side note, that's another thing. "Xmas" isn't offensive. It's shorthand. From what I understand, the "X" is the Greek letter from which the word "Christ" is formed. (If my language professor dad is reading this, I hope I've done this explanation justice. :))
I'm not offended by seeing Christmas merchandise in September anymore. I say Christmas is a holiday that only comes once a year, so let's enjoy it as thoroughly as we can, for as long as we can. :) Whether or not December 25th is the actual day that Christ was born, that's the day that's designated on the calendar to observe it, so observe it with the gusto that it deserves. :)
I've never had a child, but from what I understand about the pregnancy process, the anticipation of celebrating Christ's birth at Christmastime is similar to the anticipation of a baby's arrival. During the 9-month pregnancy, there's a lot of preparation, planning, excitement, eagerness, exhaustion, joy -- an all-out celebration of the precious life to come. Similarly, starting the day after Thanksgiving (or sometime in September, for that matter), there's a whirlwind of activity and celebration that culminates into a single event that's over before you know it on Christmas morning (or Christmas Eve for some families), with the celebration lingering through New Year's.
As another side note, columnist Ken Brodnax from the Odessa American out in West Texas cleverly labeled a phenomenon as the "holiday hangover" a few years ago. (I couldn't locate the article online; otherwise, I would have pasted the link here for your enjoyment. :)) He says the holiday hangover is a slump that we feel on January and February after celebrating so many holidays from Thanksgiving through New Year's. So, from his point of view, the new year REALLY starts in March (because we're so hung over in January and February). :)
And Christmas is a family holiday (after all, it's when God shared His family with us), whether you can stand hanging out with your family or not. :) One Christmas several years ago, I decided to use my vacation time for New Year's instead of Christmas to visit my family on my mom's birthday. On December 25th, I hung out with a friend in Waco and had fun with her, but for most of the day, my heart was seriously aching to be with my family. That was the only Christmas that I didn't spend with any family. (And I vowed never again!)
So, here's the deal. Keep Christmas simply, thoroughly, and cheerfully, and try not to get wrapped up in the secular commercialism. But just enjoy! Celebrate! Live! Rejoice! Relax! Hang out with family! Chill with friends! Stare at some Christmas lights! Sing some Christmas carols! Taste some egg nog! Throw snowballs if you got 'em! Savor as much of the season as you can, for as long as you can! And remember the One we owe the celebration to in the first place! :)
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!
And God bless us, every one!
Originally posted 11/30/08 - Wal-Mart boycott finale and consumer update
My Wal-Mart boycott is officially over, after almost 3 1/2 years. I didn't exactly fall off the wagon; I just had to make a pit stop. :"> I was traveling on I-35 on Thanksgiving morning, and I missed an exit for a truck stop, so I ended up visiting the ladies' room at a Wal-Mart in Georgetown, Texas (suburb of Austin). While I was there, I figured whoever owned the place would appreciate me buying something, and while I was walking the quarter-mile trek from the restroom in the back of the store to the bakery in front, I was reminded why I had been boycotting in the first place. Yes, it was nice to only pay $3 for some banana bread slices (and the self-checkout stations are very efficient and less annoying than the ones at Kroger). But in retrospect, none of the employees there greeted me or offered to help me -- not even the greeter. And who wants to trek a quarter of a mile across a store, anyway? (I'm exaggerating, but it truly is a long walk.)
For the record, when my sister was in town 2 months ago and I was (blindly) showing her and my brother-in-law around the surrounding communities, we did need a pit stop and happened to be near a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, so we slipped in and out without buying anything. I was impressed, however, at how homey and non-Wal-Mart-ish the store seemed. Hopefully, the bigwigs at the corporation are beginning to understand that not everybody likes to shop at a glorified warehouse.
But while I was there at the Georgetown Wal-Mart on Thanksgiving morning, I was amazed at how many people were there Christmas shopping. I was kind of imagining that there'd be husbands who'd take their kids there to keep them out of their mom's hair while she was preparing a Thanksgiving feast. But I didn't really see any; it just looked like any other business day. There was an older couple in the greeting-card section, presumably passing the time away before meeting their family for Thanksgiving, but to me it just looked like everyone else was already Christmas shopping.
I'm sorry, but I still don't understand why everyone flocks to Wal-Mart as soon as it's time to shop for Christmas. I mean, that's what I did when I was a kid who had no money. But as an adult, I'm not sure that "I found you a hurricane lamp at Wal-Mart for $2" really says "I love you" on Christmas morning. That news story about the poor Wal-Mart employee in Long Island who got trampled to death on Black Friday is very disturbing. Why all the chaos? Why the unnecessary tragedy? And why the heck does everyone still flock to Wal-Mart?? The world may never know.
As for me, I do NOT intend to shop at Wal-Mart regularly. It's probably going to be more like, "This is the nearest potty, so while I'm here, I may as well buy a soda." I'm still content shopping at Target and Tom Thumb every 2 weeks and at Family Dollar and Dollar Tree on occasion.
(In case you're wondering why I boycotted Wal-Mart in the first place, please see my blog entries dated 4/8/07 and 3/24/08 to track my journey. :))
So, please feel free to call me anti-Wal-Mart. I'll probably take it as a compliment. :D
For the record, when my sister was in town 2 months ago and I was (blindly) showing her and my brother-in-law around the surrounding communities, we did need a pit stop and happened to be near a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market, so we slipped in and out without buying anything. I was impressed, however, at how homey and non-Wal-Mart-ish the store seemed. Hopefully, the bigwigs at the corporation are beginning to understand that not everybody likes to shop at a glorified warehouse.
But while I was there at the Georgetown Wal-Mart on Thanksgiving morning, I was amazed at how many people were there Christmas shopping. I was kind of imagining that there'd be husbands who'd take their kids there to keep them out of their mom's hair while she was preparing a Thanksgiving feast. But I didn't really see any; it just looked like any other business day. There was an older couple in the greeting-card section, presumably passing the time away before meeting their family for Thanksgiving, but to me it just looked like everyone else was already Christmas shopping.
I'm sorry, but I still don't understand why everyone flocks to Wal-Mart as soon as it's time to shop for Christmas. I mean, that's what I did when I was a kid who had no money. But as an adult, I'm not sure that "I found you a hurricane lamp at Wal-Mart for $2" really says "I love you" on Christmas morning. That news story about the poor Wal-Mart employee in Long Island who got trampled to death on Black Friday is very disturbing. Why all the chaos? Why the unnecessary tragedy? And why the heck does everyone still flock to Wal-Mart?? The world may never know.
As for me, I do NOT intend to shop at Wal-Mart regularly. It's probably going to be more like, "This is the nearest potty, so while I'm here, I may as well buy a soda." I'm still content shopping at Target and Tom Thumb every 2 weeks and at Family Dollar and Dollar Tree on occasion.
(In case you're wondering why I boycotted Wal-Mart in the first place, please see my blog entries dated 4/8/07 and 3/24/08 to track my journey. :))
So, please feel free to call me anti-Wal-Mart. I'll probably take it as a compliment. :D
Originally posted 11/15/08 - Tirzah's deep thoughts
(Hey, the Saturday Night Live writers shouldn't have all the fun.)
1) An ergonomic chair is great, unless you're short. Then it's more like a stool with a footrest.
2) I don't have an "I Brake For Grackles" bumper sticker, but I did use my turn signal for a cluster of grackles once while I was easing out of a parking lot. So, I need to design my own "I Signal For Grackles" bumper sticker.
3) I don't understand those movies where the guy or girl has to go back in time to find romance. I mean, cyber dating would be one thing, but time travel would be downright ridiculous.
4) If misery loves company, then I should probably consider myself blessed when I'm alone.
5) That public restroom in the mall with the sign that says it's "environmentally friendly" kind of defeats the purpose if someone forgets to flush.
6) Recycling is great for the environment, except when the recycling truck is dropping sawdust all over the cars that drive behind it on the highway.
7) If global warming is real and our climate is changing, shouldn't we just abolish Daylight Savings Time? Would it really be healthy to stay outdoors for an extra hour, soaking up the UV rays?
8) If dog is man's best friend, then man must really like friends that slobber and eat their own poop.
9) Cats don't make very good role models. I mean, if I spent 90% of my shift at work napping in my cubicle and purred like a chainsaw while my boss was chewing me out, I'd be in serious trouble.
10) If your car gets stuck in the snow and you use kitty litter to make traction for your tires and get your car moving again, wouldn't it be dangerous to just leave the kitty litter out there on the road? Wouldn't Fluffy get confused and try to do his business in front of everybody during rush hour?
11) I don't understand the concept of owning a pet rat. Why would someone want a creature that has its own specific kind of poison?
12) They should breed a type of fish that you can pet underwater. And a fish that purrs. A fish that's kind of like a cat-- Oh. Wait a minute...
1) An ergonomic chair is great, unless you're short. Then it's more like a stool with a footrest.
2) I don't have an "I Brake For Grackles" bumper sticker, but I did use my turn signal for a cluster of grackles once while I was easing out of a parking lot. So, I need to design my own "I Signal For Grackles" bumper sticker.
3) I don't understand those movies where the guy or girl has to go back in time to find romance. I mean, cyber dating would be one thing, but time travel would be downright ridiculous.
4) If misery loves company, then I should probably consider myself blessed when I'm alone.
5) That public restroom in the mall with the sign that says it's "environmentally friendly" kind of defeats the purpose if someone forgets to flush.
6) Recycling is great for the environment, except when the recycling truck is dropping sawdust all over the cars that drive behind it on the highway.
7) If global warming is real and our climate is changing, shouldn't we just abolish Daylight Savings Time? Would it really be healthy to stay outdoors for an extra hour, soaking up the UV rays?
8) If dog is man's best friend, then man must really like friends that slobber and eat their own poop.
9) Cats don't make very good role models. I mean, if I spent 90% of my shift at work napping in my cubicle and purred like a chainsaw while my boss was chewing me out, I'd be in serious trouble.
10) If your car gets stuck in the snow and you use kitty litter to make traction for your tires and get your car moving again, wouldn't it be dangerous to just leave the kitty litter out there on the road? Wouldn't Fluffy get confused and try to do his business in front of everybody during rush hour?
11) I don't understand the concept of owning a pet rat. Why would someone want a creature that has its own specific kind of poison?
12) They should breed a type of fish that you can pet underwater. And a fish that purrs. A fish that's kind of like a cat-- Oh. Wait a minute...
Heads up
I’ll be deleting my MySpace account soon. There was about a 5-month period where I only blogged on MySpace. So that those posts won’t be lost forever in cyberspace oblivion, I’m planning to repost them here today or tomorrow. There should be about 8 of them, and I’ll also try to repost any comments I received from MySpace friends. Please feel free to comment all you want as well. Enjoy. :) I’ll also try to post brand-new stuff sometime this month. Been busy!
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