The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Host: "Hamlet to Hamilton: Exploring Verse Drama" | Founder: TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS | Author: "Cupid and Psyche" "Nachtsturm Castle" & Others | Caitlin O'Sullivan in "The Ghost Ship" (Boston Metaphysical Society)

Sunday, November 30, 2003

Another blog in lieu of Freecell

I am determined to at least get this scene started. But I - not the scene - am being a scootch. There comes a certain point where I need what I'm writing about visualized. I need some tangible point of reference - something in plausible 3-D is best. I've got all my maps, etc. - and no mistake those are helpful - but even more I need to know what it would look like to the person there. Frequently I can guess at how it would look by looking at my maps, etc. - but currently I'm attempting to think exactly how high each building in Castell Gwyr is to the other. I always get rather mucky-feeling when I start describing buildings or towns. Architecture is very dear to me, although I'm not terribly good at it by any stretch of the imagination, but I'd like to get it right for the book.

So, the Great Hall of Castell Gwyr is seven stories high. The top three stories have since been given floors, so that when one walks into the Great Hall now, one "only" looks up four stories. Which would be approximately, what? Forty feet? I suppose about the height of St. Peter's in Rome - not at its absolute apex, but it's general height. And then the top three stories are used for...dunno. Staterooms, one presumes? Galleries? Nothing? That doesn't seem quite right. The scions of Siawn Shieldbearer have loads to contend with but appear fairly practical - or at least GREAT at hiring practical folk. However, I've a feeling many of those rooms aren't used - which could be helpful in this scene. Aiden & Riordan could hide out there for a while. I imagine those are the same rooms where Iorwrydd & Wynne used to tryst before they eloped. Huh. Rather "garret-ish" - or Secret Garden-ish. Good, good. At some point, too, I'll need to do a map of the town - I've only a vague conception now. But I'll need someone with a less strictured mind than mine to come up with the winding streets.

Curiously, in the picture I doodled up (bad, admittedly, and not near accurate re: relation of buildings to each other - but it'll do for now), it reminds me rather of Austria. I suppose this is a good thing. *sigh* We wants to GO there, precious! Either to Castell Gwyr or Austria. I don't mind which! :D I've decided to post the picture - recall it's just done up quickly on Adobe Photoshop Elements - and meant as more a very very rough sketch for my own benefit. But since this post is for my own benefit as well, I shan't wory overmuch. (Hmmm, one is desirous to include a secret message a la Lemony Snicket.... The Duck Flies at Midnight! ...pass it on...) Huh, I'll need ornamentation on the front - statues a la Vienna, I think. That'd be nice. Half-rising men holding up columns, that sort of thing. I forgot the Lily Spire on the Symphonia and the walkway between the Green House and the Symphonia. Actually, the Green House ought to be all windowed and not as it currently is in the picture.... Ach weel, it gives me a beginning point!

I like putting pictures in my blog. Doodle doodle daaaaaaay!

Right - back to Riordan feeling apprehentious. Really. Really. I can write....

Mood: Anxious. Less than an hour before sleep requires me and VERY LITTLE WRITTEN!
Music: Merry's CD, Mary's Eyes a la Gaelic Storm
Thought: I lurve Hugh Jackman's Oklahoma. Have I mentioned how wonderful he is? Silly boy ought to come and work for me.

Friday, November 28, 2003

Who's awesome? Julie is! Julie is!

OK, so my darling, darling schweister just let me dictate ~ 2K words to her for Aiden (Pt. I). Hurrah! Bless you, Jules! Mom may be hit up tomorrow. Bless darling family members who play cards and then let me mumble on and on about impossibly named people! Mmmmm-WAH!

Mood: Tra la!
Music: Crimson Pirates II
Even Better: Go to this site for info re: ROTK music! Incredible.
Thought: Now to see if I can start next scene. I'm doubtful, to be honest. There's something to be said to have someone THERE just waiting for you and no access to any distractions!
Distractions: Such as....

Hip, hip hurrah!

Jane Austen
Jane Austen wrote you. You are extremely aware of
the power of a single word.


Which Author's Fiction are You?
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Honestly, I didn't aim for this. In honor of the DVD coming out!

Captain Jack Sparrow
Captain Jack Sparrow


Pirates of the Caribbean - Which character are you?
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Too funny! Don't know that I would have put it that way, but I guess there's a reason I was dubbed, "The Princess of Mountain Village" as a kid

girly girl result
Girly Girl


What kind of little girl were YOU?
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Aw, neat. I love Anne! Although there'd be more dancing if I were her.

Anne Elliot
You are Anne Elliott from Persuasion. You
might also be Harriet Smith from Emma,
or Fanny Price from Mansfield Park or
possibly even Jane Fairfax from Emma.
People underestimate you all the time. You are
somewhat introverted, so it is assumed that
other people can persuade you to do anything,
or even think that they can roll right over
you, even when they mean to be doing you a good
deed. The good news is, you have it within
yourself to stand up and take charge-- you know
what's right, and you know what you want, after
all! It's just a matter of speaking up!


Which Jane Austen Character Are You?
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Sigh. You know, sometimes, you can't be as subvertive as you want.

pandp
You are Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen);
intellectually stimulating, romantic, and
sardonic. You are a brilliant love story about
how two people go through a complete change of
feelings, and about how society of the early
1800s was quite hilarious. I'm glad they found
love, because they used to hate each other. Go
say something sarcastic.


Which Book are You?
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LOL! Hardly, but what the hey.... It's my misunderstood, convert Oscar. READ HIS WORKS!

DorianGray
In my not so humble opinion, you, of course, belong
in the Picture of Dorian Gray, and do not try
to deny it. You belong in the fashionable
circles of Victorian London where exotic
tastes, a double life, decadence, wit and a
hypocritical belief in moral betterment make
you a home. You belong where the witty
apothegms of Lords, the silly moralities of
matrons, the blinding high of opium, and the
beauty of visual arts mingle to form one
convoluted world.


Which Classic Novel do You Belong In?
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Nooooooooooooo! And here I thought I was bound for Leonardo.... Ah well, it's always the quiet ones who cover their bellybuttons, eh?

bonaparte
You are Napoleon Bonaparte; idealistic, strong, and
a born leader. You like power, and taking over
countries. You started this whole rebellion
deal to help France, but helped yourself to
being its Emperor as well. You are stern and
fearless, and you believe that anyone who is
afraid of being conquered is already defeated.
Many people love you, just as many hate you.
That's why you were exciled twice.


Which Historical Personage are You?
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Goodness in mehness

* Watching Plan 9 with Peter and Mom; actually tolerated the whole thing thanks to our MST3King!

* Dismal, foggy day (foggy day in middle MA? Weird.) but going to visit Jules at work and then go to the new Borders to write, both with Pete

* Listening to the Merry CD, even if the room is a total disaster

* Sleeping in, even if one misses most of the day, because sometimes the body just needs to rest and rest and rest

* Families that let one sleep in, even though they need to do things, too

* Bagels with butter and garlic salt, even though they're not good for you

* Enjoying cool water from the shower when the hot water runs out

Thank You, God, for the ability to accept and enjoy.

Mood: Content
Music: "The Land of Might-Have-Been" as sung by (thump, thump) Jeremy Northram from the Gosford Park CD as remixed on the Merry CD
Thought: It's foggy outside...FOGGY! All day! Odd. Depressing, but still cool to look at. One expects the members of the Belgariad to saunter by.

Thursday, November 27, 2003

Walking with one's Father

Is a wonderful way to spend time with him, to enjoy the outdoors, and to realize that...I have to back up the novel by ANOTHER twenty years. *sigh* No, this is good. I more or less know the story, which is helpful, but it's just...just...just...! >slump< So I've got a sentence and a paragraph. I think it's a fairly solid paragraph. And all that stuff I've been working on this past week? Pffft - out the window. Back to not only square one, but into negative numbers! And now I'm stuck again. I know that there's the advice to write a excremental copy just to WRITE, but I simply can't bring myself to do that - esp. not when starting out, esp. not in the world and language of the 12Kingdoms. Nnnngh. Whaddevah. Off to try again.

Mood: My shoulder is KILLING me!
Music: E horo - sniffle - on Merry's CD.
Thought: *@#&^$. Yeah.

Writer's Block



Yeah. That's about it.

Mood: Ibid.
Music: Various midi files that I'm about to turn off in favor of something peppy
Thought: Oh! My colon! Or rather, my shoulder - seem to have pulled it while moving boxes away from the kitchen for today's feast.

Once again, Julie has it right

Captain's Log-Aboard the Wavbearer - "Shoot the Turkey, Leave a Message."

And while you're at it, take a look at what my dad wrote re: the recent legislation in MA: World Net Daily. It's fairly far down, so I'll link you to the article itself as reprinted on Jules's diary.

Or take a look over at this neat-o blog: Expagan.info - Apologetics and Occult Info.

Or step over to Barbara Nicolosi's take on Big Fish (Ewan MacGregor, Tim Burton Lite, and American Fantasy/Tall Tales! Woo-HOO!): Church of the Masses

Or step over to Catholic and Enjoying It! Mark Shea's blog. Dissatisfied with the Church, want to take control and change it all? Well don't forget, me boyo, "My Kingdom is not of this world."

And because Shakespeare is always right: EveTushnet.com.

In other news, stayed up until 1:30 ay-emma beating my head against the screen to produce 500 measly words to finish off the Aiden/Isobel scene in the beginning of the first novel. (Must come up with at title I like.) Yet by the grace of God, I was able to drag my body out of bed for 7:45 a.m. mass - praise God! Bless my students. The Pr.'s coming today for Thanksgiving - that should be very nice! And myself will attempt to work on the next scene before the time to set the table with Mrs. Bullard's (God rest her soul) china.

May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace!

Mood: Surprisingly awake!
Music: Gethin's Theme on mental repeat - take a looksee (or hearsee) over at the Twelve Kingdoms website! Woo-hoo!
Challenge: Do a random act of kindness today. Do a random act of kindness for someone you don't know and won't receive anything back form today!
Prayer: St. Gertrude the Great's prayer. The Lord promised her that He would release a thousand souls from Purgatory every time it was said. Lord, have mercy on all of us, especially those in most need of Thy mercy!

Eternal Father,
I offer unto thee
The most Precious Blood
Of Thy Divine Son, Jesus
In union with the Sacrifice of the Holy Mass
Said throughout the world today;
For all the holy souls in Purgatory,
For sinners everywhere,
For sinners in the Universal Church,
For those within my own home,
And within my own family.
Amen! Amen!

Tuesday, November 25, 2003

Not that you wanted...

...another inexplicable poem (BTW: one below isn't too heinous. I need to trim the beginning, play with indentation of the second half, show it to the MFCers...passable, though. Makes me want to draw that image - really neat image. Yes, precious, or do a whole lot of photo-maniuplations to make it even better. Yaaay for digital cameras and lost-but-found Adobe Photoshop Elements [which one still has to upload]).

But here it is anyway! BWA-hahahahhahahahahha!

A public service announcement: You actually don't have to read my blog, you know.

(Huh, I wonder what the blogs of Sylvia Plath or T. S. Eliot would have been like. Did they keep journals? I enjoy reading blogs somewhat, but I became utterly bored reading one diary of a girl in the Civil War. Could have just been a bad selection, though. And we all digress togeTHEEEER!...too bad I can't get musical intonation on this silly blog. Hrumph. Imagine Margaret - shoot, what's her name?! The youngest daughter from Meet Me in St. Louis singing that rather like "I was drunk last night, dear moTHEEEER" and you've got the idea. The LONG and winding rooooooooooad...!)

So without further adieu ;P

~*~

Regard the Scales of Fate

Brought into the hall of hoary-bearded Zeus
By the obliging muses
At Homer's sad behest.

Fate, men call them -
Fate, over which even thunder-fisted Zeus
Hath no command.

Fate, men name them -
Even to our present age
So far from golden dawn.

Within the marble halls
(So soon to crumble!,
Fallen wonders of a fallen world)

A vast array of war-clad men:
Cleric's collar, poet's ink-stained brow,
Scientist in vestal whiteness;

Urania's divining bead-strung slaves;
Clio's train, the good earth forsaken
For digging in each other's barren mines;

Now smug Calvin, Darwin with finch
In strangle-grip; Freud with close-held dreams
To add upon the scales;

Wagner and Brunhilda; Katherine and Heathcliff;
And others who claimed the cold and distant stars
As their portion in the scales of Fate;

Husband gone to find himself;
Wanton wife; youth whose lust cannot be sated;
Politician with a crafty bow

And speech of greater craft and little depth;
Stock-broking fatalists; weathermen's
Definitive forecast; and the long line

Of senseless thralls to black and toothed Anubis,
Whose own scale held the hearts of men
And judged them still on jewels and stature.

Fate, they name these scales
Fate, not will - nor yet (oh horrific truth!)
Faint will - but Fate, that great

Name to shirk self-condemnation.
No will, but senseless, ceaseless action
Willed by denial of the will.

Upon the left-most scale perceive
The offerings, the excuses, the theorums
And "forces," the urges (and demi-urges),

The crises, the agonies, indifferences,
Indecisions, dreams, hysterias,
Predestinations (and righteous fear),

The hope for salvation in the midst of sin,
The declaration of one's own goodness
In the very face of fact.

The scale weighs down beneath the
Innumerable neurosis, the foregone conclusions,
The strawmen and the hollowed chests.

And upon the rightmost scale?
Naught.
Zeus hath no power there.

Upon the rightmost scale?
Naught.
No man dares to tip the balance

And upset the teetering list of calumnies,
Lest they topple into the hearthfire
Before the god-father's feet.

Regard Zeus stand,
Regal and magnificent,
A terror to behold,

Crumbling marble,
Chipped flesh,
Immobile lips

Immobile heart
And his will likewise immobile -
He cannot tip the scales of Fate...

He wills not tip the scales of Fate.

Child finger raised
Walking up impossible stairs
Of air and nothingness

Flight of fancy, yet rising still
To where the rightmost scale
Lifts into the lofty heavens.

Here is his domain.
Smiling dimples, he brushes dimpled palm
Upon the empty scale -

And all the mean excuses, the petty sins and
Leering songs and theorums
Lift upwards to the sky

Upward where it might be seen,
And there more truly judged.

Not "what will be, will be"
The sorry song of fickle Fate -
But what Will be.

~*~

Hmmm, that didn't come out at all right. Drat. Meh meh meh. That's what I get for trying to overextend without proper warm-up. Needs to be tightened up and a different format. ...I was about to write a variance. I can't think of anything. Meh. Well, it's at least (potentially) more productive than freecell!

Mood: Drat.
Music: Pirates of the Caribbean (spelling thanks to Jules who's keeping me company in utter silence. There's friendship! :D)
Thought: I had one...nnnngh...I had one! Gah. Sorry, folks.
Site: Check out Therese, a forthcoming movie about St. Therese of Liseux. Looks good!

There had to be ONE! And yippee! One of my favorite characters!
Vimes!
Discworld: Which Ankh-Morpork City Watch Character are YOU?

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...or two... Terry Pratchett's addictive and I'm OK, I read him all night, I read him all day, I wish he'd write quicker in his series, because otherwise I'll have to bite his kneeeeees!

You are Ponder Stibbons.
You are Ponder Stibbons.
Often ignored and very intelligent, you like to
study things and find interest in the
scientific. As a child, you probably had hours
of fun playing with boring things in boxes that
read 'hours of fun' on the lid.


Which Discworld Wizard Are You?
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THIS deserves a standing ovation! You know that awesome moment when Aragorn enters the Golden Hall, throwing open both doors at once in slo-mo while shaking back his long hair? Yeah (...good scene...), well nothing, I mean NUFFIN has yet matched Errol Flynn entering Prince John's feasting hall with an antlered deer upon his shoulders. HA! Woo-HOO! Yeah, there's Robin Hood! Beat 'em up, Robbie boy! (Golly, I love that movie. I should watch it again. *sigh*)

Good Old Classic Robin
You are Classic Robin Hood. Errol Flynn Robin
Hood. No matter how grand others may be you
are the original best. Fencing, fighting, etc.
And True Love. Yay!


A Robin Hood, are you?
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What a timely interruption! Stupid movie, but who can beat Errol? Beyond which, this was a well done quiz. Are you not grateful, oh my darling minio...aherm...bretheren, that I have set forth to find FUN quizzes (with pics ;). A tyran...High Tzarin...'umble servant's work is never done.

Captain Blood
You are Captain Blood! A gallant and gentlemanly
pirate, your quest is for a higher goal than
treaure and victory in battle. You have
accomplished much and are destined for much
more. Grand work of it, lad.


Are you a Pirate?
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Drat. I thought it said "Maybe you could be an ARTIST." Missed the con. Unless you mean convention...? ;P But it's a pretty picture of Johnny Depp and piratical (AAAARGH me matey!) and Therefore It Is Good. (Great options as well. Tres amusant!)

Maybe...you should be a con artist...or a pirate
Maybe you should be a con-artist. We really don't
need any more of them nowadays...but you could
find your place, with a little ingenuity. You
are clever enough for it with all those
leprechaun traps you used to build. Certainly,
they would have worked if not for the damn dog
next door. Failing that, you really should be
a pirate. 'Cause everyone knows we need more
of them. Film to Rent Tonight: Catch Me if You Can


Your current/future vocation should be or include...
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Because sometims you just have to.... Hint: take a look at the quote on the Lucius Malfoy one - yes! I OWN those bunny slippers! (Not pink, though. That would be evil.)

Draco Malfoy, the INCREDIBLE bouncing ferret.
You are Draco! Draco Malfoy. You are the
embodiment of a good Slytherin (good
Slytherins? Oxymoron, anyone?) in so many
ways. And you are a Malfoy. You were a
Slytherin before Slytherin was a Slytherin,
weren't you?


Which Slytherin Are YOU?
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And last and most appropriately... "Sometimes I wake up Sleepy...."

Pretty Sleepy
You are Pretty Sleepy! You have probably stayed up
too late a few too many times and have probably
been waking up to an annoying alarm clock for
several too many years. Poor you.


What Kind of Sleepy Are You?
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Thus die I: thus, thus, thus!

Now am I dead, now am I fled
My sooooul is IIIIN the sky.
Tongue - loose thy light!
Moon - take thy flight!
Now die...die...die...DIE...DIIIIIIIIIIIE!!!


Some thoughts before writing up recommendations for my students.

1) Midsummer Night's Dream is sooooooooo making fun of Romeo and Juliet. I couldn't help but thinking of MND in near to every scene of R&J on Sunday afternoon. Ruined the balcony scene for me, I'm afraid. ;P >snickering evilly< Actually, Friar Lawrence kept all his theological speeches in the version I saw Sunday, and the fellow playing him was wonderful. One simply cannot simply FULLY understand Shakespeare without a Catholic understanding - his every deeper thought in even the least of his plays is riddled through with Catholic theology. Whuh. Wonderful.

2) First rehearsal for Pirates last night. Went well, despite not enough time to talk to everyone I needed to talk to. (Oh, grim looked night! Oh, night which is so black! Oh night which ever art when day is not! Oh night, oh night...alack, alack, alack!) This caused some consternation this morning which is slowly clearing up. There may not need to be a separation of church and state, but quand une dit des relations avec son famille, donc quelque chose sont plus complique parce que une vie (conjugation?) avec le question. (Et ma francais disparais!) Oh, and the anticipated assault of undesired entomology did not rear its ugly and persistent head last night much to my surprise and quiet delight. The promised poem has therefore been diverted to:

3) Naw, a slight digression before moving on. Sinbad is still a really good CD.

4) Regard the event, long desired!
Long thought of, trembled over, discarded, poked in moment of boredom -
Appear!
And one wonders whether the desire were not the better in the having
Than the actuality.
Anticipation becomes anxiety,
Anxiety, avoidance,
Avoidance, desire,
Desire, nothingness
And the return to comfortable "naught."
Is the hermit the better for his hermitage
Than the man without the desert?
There is comfort in a desert,
Although hardship there also.
Yet in the other lands,
The winter lands, the summer lands,
The lands of planting and of harvest,
There is also toil and the longing
For the solitude of desert vagaries.
Within the desert, vast terrain,
Full light of sun and stretch of sky,
Extremes of light and dark, of hot and cold,
Ever anticipation of the Ever Lands
Which all men hold dear.
Within the other lands
The shift from one season to another,
Blurred, abandoned, ploughed through, forgotten -
The ease of slow familiarity,
And the likewise ease of a cluttered life,
Where days and nights and years and days
Run, run, ceaseless run, with never pause until
That final pause
Which leaves a man quite breathless.
Within my hand, white as any letter,
Bleached white like the desert sands,
Red rivulets from the cracked skin start and flow
Between the creases of the years that bow and bend.
What words take form between the criss-crossing
Of this all-too-fragile parchment?
Here is no divination, but invitation -
No mirage, long desired with the ease of desire
Seen from a-far away.
But the thing itself, raw and red and bleeding -
Coursing from palm to holy palm,
Beneath the palms of my desert home,
Leading westward, mayhap - or eastward, who can say -
In the glaring heat that stems from sun above?
With what shall I bind my hand,
Stop up the wound that my Savior first bore for me?
Or shall I bear its burden and follow the Moses stream,
The sudden stream, the well-spring
To discover whether it be blood or life itself?
The bare foot lifts, pauses in shadow-thrown
Upon the smooth and shifting landscape.
What though, one wound bore;
How many more are bound me
The many miles I travel long?
I look upwards to the setting sun -
Or rising, rising, ever rising?
Red streak upon the silent hills
That blow a veil of sandy smoke before
My weary, dryling eyes....
I seem to see
Figures, streams, innumerable tributaries
That converge within the very heart
Of that brilliance, sweet unbearable.
Shall I lift my hand to block the sun,
That I may squint at the figures who stand
With arms outstretched,
Courage in their very backs,
Knit into the fabric of their skin which now, I see,
Bleeds not unlike my own.
I raise my hand, and find the sun
Grown more brilliant,
Vibrant,
Tangible,
Corporeal,
Encased in the web of vein and tissue
That part to hold in tender cherishing
That sweet and humble glory.
My fingers spread in anguished imitation
Of short and stumpy rays.
My arm turns, as though I could hold the sun
Within my wounded hand -
Support Him as He ascends
Rising, rising, ever rising -
Not east nor west nor north nor south
But upwards,
Inwards
To pierce my very flesh.
Here the source unveiled, the mystery revealed -
My own palm a mere terminous
Dipped into the wellspring
Of youthful waters.
Blood and water are one:
Water crimsoned by the laughing sun.
Shadow wavers one minute more
Beneath my bare, uncallused foot
That has stayed within the cool, oasis confines
Of my meek and humble hermitage.
Sorrow not - my path may lead me here again,
To feel the damp moss beneath my feet -
Older feet then, blistered, bruised, callused,
Much in need of hermitage,
Of warmth to ease my aching bones.
Strange distortion of shadow,
Shifting with the shifting sun,
Diminishing as He rises
(Rising! Rising! Ever rising!).
My foot moves forward
To crush the shadow into the unforgiving sands,
And move within the hourglass
Forward along the river wide
Until the sands diminish
And I reach the Ever Lands at last.

Mood: I can't think quite how to describe it. See above, I suppose.
Music: Sinbad, silly! On repeat.
Thought: Half day tomorrow, tra la la la la LAAAAA!

Monday, November 24, 2003

This is bothersome

I log into Blogger, ready to print an obscure poem about something that I want to be tactful about but still get off my chest and the main page has this: Official Suggestions for How to Make Sure Your Mom Doesn't Freak Out if She Reads Your Blogspot which is based off of this article from the Onion (recall, please, the Onion requires perhaps a flat of salt), and compounded by this: about how not to lose your job due to blogging.

Now, I grant that these are not entirely pointless tutorials. When one is writing for the public domain - or a domain that's at least technically public, even if no one visits your site - one ought to be cognizant of a few things: spelling, such as of the word cognizant which I'm more than pretty sure I just botched. ;P One's audience: who's going to be reading your work? Most of us will point to a handful of folk: our family, our friends, a few on-line fellows we've "met" and become convivial with. Dangling participles. D**n swearing. Mentioning how many beers one drank in a night (or chocolate bars one ate, or minutes one overslept, or verses one wrote or...sorry, I don't drink beer!). In a public journal, how can the blogger with a brain (BWAB) be surprised when he discovers that in this internet-savvy age others with a vested interest in his private life (teachers, parents, bosses, etc.) snoop about in his PUBLIC blog. One is tempted to say, "Duh." If you wanted to keep your private life private, publishing it on the WORLD wide web is probably NOT the best way to go about it.

Of course, I'm not therefore an immediate advocate of this "sneakage" that Blog has put forth. That is: changing your domain, using a pseudonym, putting up a false disclaimer claiming "everything here is false!", or any other means of prevarication. Now, granted, I myself have used the "I am using this phrase (poem/etc.) to speak of something/one that I'd rather not name because I'd like to keep some semblance of face, danke-very-schoene," but usually - for me - I use that to protect the innocent, rather than to protect my own culpability.

Which leads me to wonder, then, why no one has suggested leading a blameless private life which one can report with relative fearlessness in a public domain? Wouldn't THAT be the obvious and better choice? Why are the "handbooks" and "tutorials" advocating compounding one's transgressions with outright mendacity? This is not a situation of delicacy or tact, but of right and wrong. Those who engage in falsehoods in order to hide their wrongdoing cannot claim with the guilty John Proctor, "Leave me my good name!" for they have abandoned their name altogether; there is no goodness nor any name - only mere guilt and Onion fodder.

Now, to fess up: I had myself intended to log on to blog in poetical style about an unfortunate incident I had the other day - using poetry, once again, to allow myself to vent my frustration with the situation into which I have been forced by another party, while not inditing that party by name - indeed to leave them their good name, whether deserved or not (whether in existence or not). [A note: by this very hedging, I make the case sound more extreme than it is; the case is one of extreme inconvenience and thoughtlessness which is being thrust upon me much against my will, but it is no more dire than what life frequently throws at anyone.] Perhaps I will still write that poem - I find that when I start out, it's about what I'm thinking of; when it is done it has transformed into its own poem. But then, isn't that the nature and root of poetry that it begins in factual observation and ends in divine meditation? So, on another day I will grace you all with "The Incessant Tick."

For now, I am off to shower. In private. Nyah.

Mood: Oyveh. Lord, You made many many smart people...where are they? And why do the stupid ones think themselves clever?
Music: Evanescence a minute ago. Pirates in three hours!!!
Thought: Why is chocolate so tasty and so bad for you? Poot.

[Edited to add:] Today's random quiz! Once again, the Emily in her native habitat, succumbs to peer blogging pressure and Takes A Silly Quiz that Embarasses the Heck out of Her...and yet she posts it anyway! The case study is currently in dispute between the anthropologists who claim that this peculiar habit of the Emily proves that she is little more than one of an infinite number of monkeys and therefore the quote-unquote missing link between either simians and humans or humans and technology. The sociologists claim that this proves yet again that the Emily has devolved, and is somewhere now between a toaster oven and the French. The philologists wonder why the Emily keeps referring to herself in the third person. The blogologists run over to try out the quiz themselves on their own infinite number of computers. Which only proves that although we may not come up with Hamlet, we might come up with a quiz ABOUT him!

(Oh, and hey, my fellow quizdicted - consider rating these one highly. Aren't you tired of crass quizzes being on the popular, etc. lists? *crawling back into the den of my blankets on my long-neglected bed*)

[Note: there was - weeeeird - no picture for this one. So I'll post my own. Nyah.]



Your soul is bound to the White Rose: The Pure. "I've been waiting in the dark for a longtime, shining my beacon of hope through the shadow. If you see me, don't you hide your eyes from me."

The White Rose is associated with purity, honor, and chastity. It is governed by the goddess Artemis [Edited: bwahahahah - oy, child] and its sign is The Cross, or Agape [Edited: well, that's good!]

As a White Rose, you are a person of your word. You [Edited out: "may" ;)] have a strong moral code, but regardless of your virtue, you always stay true to yourself [Edited: huh? What the shreck does THIS sentence mean? Regardless of virtue? May have a moral code? Yet another example of the vacuum belief that moral relativism is a positive good rather than a fence straddling nothing]. To you, love is the most pure of emotional forms and it's just a matter of waiting for it to bless you. Some people may say you are too idealistic, but it's only because you don't want to mess things up.[Edited to add: *blush* I hope so!]


What Rose Is Your Soul Bound To?
brought to you by Quizilla

[Edited again to add once more:] Hah! This is appropriate! (Not particularly well spelled, but at least diverting.) Also, please consider, if frustrated, visiting this site.

african penguin
You are an african penguin.... yes... from
africa... well, annother comon name for the
african penguin is the jackass penguin....
great isnt it? and the african penguin is the
most common penguin to find in zoos, along with
the magalenic... for more information... go to
mi site! http://home.earthlink.net/~rockhopperpenguin


What species of penguin are you? (pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

[Edited again to add once more really last time....] OK, this one's just neat. And I was SURE I was going to end up as Vizzini...but...handsome? ;P (Couldn't I end up WITH handsome? Naw. But it's the mask thing that got me, I'm sure!)

You are Westley!  Valiant, handsome and a great believer in the power of true love.  You learn quickly, recover quickly and think quickly.  Others marvel at your brilliance and wish the
You are Westley. Valiant, handsome and a great
believer in the power of true love. You learn
quickly, recover quickly and think quickly.
Others marvel at your brilliance and wish they
were you!


"A princess bride personality test!"
brought to you by Quizilla

[Edited again to add once more really REALLY positively last and final time...!] Tee hee hee! Wasn't sure how this one would turn out, but I'm not surprised. Love this character - go short and fuzzy things that "hee-YAW" at bad guys and are so very, very muppet!

You are Sir Didymus!!  A Fearless and valiant warrior who will fight to the death if you feel strongly enough about it.  Your friends rate you very highly and so they should because you
You are Sir Didymus!! A Fearless and valiant
warrior who will fight to the death if you feel
strongly enough about it. Your friends rate
you very highly and so they should because you
are a loyal and wonderful person.


"Which 'Labyrinth' Character are you?"
brought to you by Quizilla

[Edited to ahhhhhhhhhh....] Yeah, this is what teaching High School Religion is like some days. You can take your pick which one is me, really.

You're the black knight!
"It's just a flesh wound!" You are
aggressive and determined by nature, but
sometimes unaware of other more glaring faults.
You love a good fight, especially with ankle-
gnawing action. Bunnies are your greatest fear.


What favourite Monty Python saying/character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

[Crawling back up into the blogsphere...uhoh...mother!] Drat - LAST person I wanted to be! However, the sentiment is terrific! LOL!

innocent Cosette
Cosette

I swear, you are the biggest goody-goody two shoes
since GHANDI!!


What's your Les Miserables character and problem? (just take the quiz, you'll see)
brought to you by Quizilla

[Yay-hey-hey! In a pathetic, tired but not tired enough and "I'm calling in ugly" sort of way.] Finally, one got it right! ;P

The Sign of the Prancing Pony
You are Barliman Butterbur, the innkeeper of the
Prancing Pony at Bree! You seem to always be
busy and forgetful, but you're a really nice
guy to your friends. Still, you can't be the
brightest crayon in the box if even *Sam*
suggests that you're dense. :)


Which VERY minor LotR character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


[Just for you, Jules] Mmmmwah, my Sam!

Save me, O supporting characters!
Ouch.


LotR - Which person/thing that made Sam cry are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Sunday, November 23, 2003

Celtic Music, Lord of the Rings, and Paltry Excuses

I know, I know - why hasn't this chiqua updated really? Never fear - I've a big one planned. (You can probably guess What About, if you've been keeping up with the news. ;) But right before I run away to DJ's Romeo of Romeo and Juliet in a little less than an hour, I thought I'd throw up a few things here, as an hors d'ourve (or however you spell that - the only word in French I can never for the life of me remember).

Go over, quickly quickly hobbitses!, to Lord of the Rings and click on the link for the music to hear the closing song for Return of the King. Wow...nothing like the other songs. Keep listening through the final instrumental - beautiful. Can we say I'm so looking forward to that movie? We've been reverentially watching the DVD (rented, for the nonce, not bought - all the sheckles we don't have, you know), and I for one have been laughing at God's little nudges and bouts of inspiration that He snuck Himself into the movie. Tolkien, keep interceding for your work! Amen!

Which, of course brings me the extended (aka: real) edition of The Two Towers - faboo of course. There's one scene between Aragorn and Gandalf that was mainly repeated exposition that I could have done without, and I still feel that the camera work on this movie isn't as stunning as in Fellowship of the Ring, but the movie WORKS. And, yup, that scene with the ten guys on one side of the door and the ten thousand orcs on the other and then the White Rider coming - that's truth.

One of my students surprised me the other day when he asked why we should even bother trying to change legislation when there will always be extraordinary cases, when men will still always opt for sin, when in short "we cannot make men good by law." When it's more or less guaranteed that we're going to fail. But this is the thing I've been trying to get across to him, and to myself, and to the world at large: yes, we're going to fail in this world. But we have already won in the world that counts. Yes, we are fighting the "long defeat," yes, goodness will always be abused, yes men will always sin, yes suffering and bad and terrible things will always happen - but for that very reason, we must keep fighting. We are in a war, like it or not. ("Open war is upon you!") And although we have been promised the White Rider, although another carries "the burden of the whole world" for us, yet we cannot cease fighting. And for why? For the ungrateful, for the unknowing, for no reward visible in this world, for nothing that this world accounts as worthy - but "I account riches as dross" and "the Wisdom of God seems like folly to this world."

If we do not fight, even for the merest foothold, to keep back evil one minute more - who will? If we lay down our arms in defense of the innocents - who will take up arms on their behalf? If we complain that the battle is too difficult, shall we instead embrace death at the hand of the enemy - and more, therefore, offer up those whom we defend, our brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and children and those who have yet to be born, to our enemy because WE are too tired or too lukewarm or too careless? Who will fight for your life, if you will not fight for your own? Who will protect your freedom, your innocence, your goodness, if you lie down in the mud to be counted among the dead? What? Will you pretend you are no more than a corpse in the hopes of saving your paltry existence that cannot be accounted truly LIFE if you have given up all that is worth fighting for, in hopes - oh, vain hope! - for mercy from a merciless enemy? Will you wallow in the mud alongside those who died worthily, who were slaughtered after you lay down because you would not stand up for your fellow man, and think that this porcine existence LIFE? Will you crawl your way, oh Vischy "survivor" back to your father's camp and demand entrance? What can He say to you, but, "Nay, you chose death from which there is no resurrection. Those within My feasting halls, My safehaven are those who gave up their lives for Me - but you gave up your life for yourself and let My sons and daughters, your brothers and sisters, die to protect even you. You lay down and desired death; let Me not contravene your will."

No, we must fight, or we will die that death from which there is no return. And so you are not strong and cannot wield weapons well - then be a medic, and tend the wounded with the Balm of Gilead! And so you are frightened and know you will faint if you come too close to the enemy, then stay safe in the bosom of your Father's home and teach others of His ways. And so you are tired, well then take courage from His Heart. And those on the front lines, do not despair! For the battle is a glorious one, and the outcome already ensured by God Himself. And though you do not see the fruit of your labor, though those prisoners of war whom you seek to return over enemy lines and back into the savehavens protest, and kick and spit and run away time and time again - yet do not despair! For the prisoner in the corner, who seems quite lost and rocks back and forth muttering, and whom all account no better than dead, he is given hope each time you sally forth to coax him into the world of light. Do not despair! For you cannot see all ends, and you do not fight alone, although you cannot see the Church Triumphant or the Church Penitent surrounding you, yet they are there and do you more good than even you know. We are the Church Militant but bound, oh bound if we hold true!, for that light ourselves. Listen to your own sermons, take heed of your own counsel! Have hope, have faith - there is a world of light and joy, and this darkness which seems so pressing is but for a little time. Keep faith! Hope, hope, hope! "And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."

Mood: Crushingly Triumphant
Music: Faire Celts - *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh* :)
Thought: In the matters of the mundane, what is one to do about the closet-less situation and the clothes which currently have (again) no place to hang from? Is a puzzlement.

Monday, November 17, 2003

WHY!??!!?!?!

Aren't you over at my sister's site? Way better than mine. Auditions tonight - surprisingly not freaked out yet. Will be in a few. About to go off and beautify or at least non-uglify myself The Better To Impress The Trembling Auditioning Masses - mwahahahahhahahah. Got through the day. Terrified that admin. might "shut down" any talk on contraceptives. But we got through all the contraceptive presentations today (last period did, by far, the best. Amazing - the Marlborough Public Library had this whole STACK of "how to buy a condom" pamphlets FOR TEENS in the foyer, but hems and haws over whether to allow me to leave a few flyers about acting classes available - tells you something, non?) and now onwards and upwards to euthenasia, assisted suicide and abortion! Oh, the effervescent lightness of the subject I teach! Actually, I'm not all that upset, I just need to make sure I come in with many many stats. Esp. for the (boogy boogy) contraceptives section. Nnnnngh. I would blog long, but that I must needs go.

Mood: Cold
Music: None, but the mental version of Only Hope
Thought: Je n'aime pas les mal du la bras...le tee le hee.

Sunday, November 16, 2003

Poot.

After a year of waiting, my submission to the latest MZB S&S anthology has been rejected. I'm not amazingly upset, though. In fact, I'm printing out Music for Medina at this moment, as well as a cover letter to Realms of Fantasy. I think it should be right up their alley. Took me a while to remember how to write a cover letter again, though! (Oy!) So, actually, I'd be much happier to have it in RoF, mainly because I think it might actually get a larger readership and therefore be better from a marketing POV. We'll see. I'm actually pretty glad to get the story back and be able to get it back into circulation for a home. I'm happy with the story, anyway! Too bad S&S didn't take it - but it did make the final cut! That's something really good!

So, Isobel's having some difficulty - or rather, the Lords are having some difficulty. Y'know what's sad - after writing ~ 750 words today, I'm thinking I'm going to have to cut ~ 500 of them and just mention that she overheard and then send her straight onto Arvel's rooms to seek counsel. *sigh* OK, at least I'm on the right PLOT track. I just want to make sure I don't repeat what I've already done (aka the opening council scene in Niamh). Going to go to sleep soon. Good day today. Anxious about tomorrow. We'll see how it goes. Need to put something in place for Wed. so that I won't be overtired from Tuesday! Lord, halp! Amen.

Mood: Surprisingly optimistic
Music: Crimson Pirates II - seems appropriate in getting ready for Pirates auditions tomorrow!
Thought: Strike the bell, second mate....

Bon anniversaire, mama!

So a short bit to further indite myself to future generations as the Author Who Was Flighty: alleluia! The story cometh! As of this morning, it cometh! I woke, I did chores, I typed a tad and...voila! The next scene presented itself! Oh, thank you Isobel for bothering to overheard that horrid Lord Alistaire speak unfavorably of you! Oh, thank you Arvel son of Iorwrydd for not going after all immediately to the Twins' but residing at Castell Gwyr for Isobel to meet you in! Oh, thank you wonderful Lords of Llewellyn for hosting your awful cousins and leaving the door slightly ajar for Isobel to conveniently overhear you! Huzzah huzzah! The plot has found a place!

So, I'm at mass, or rather after mass, and praying and asking God, "Right, Lord, so what is this novel about? What is Your premise here? What thought are we pursuing?" And the answer was, or seems to be, "What is the nature of Love?" That is, is Love an emotion or an action? Can the latter lead to the former? (The answer, obviously, is yes.) Man, I feel so bad for these two characters. Aiden tried to warn Isobel before they were first married that he had no heart; she simply didn't understand. And now, poor Isobel! Can you imagine? Still, it was pretty woozly of Aiden to run off like that - even in a good cause. I'm guessing that this'll still be stuck under the romance section - kind of odd to find oneself reviewed in Romantic Times. Not that I'm against it - hey, marketing is marketing - but still, I've so...looked down on that genre.... Well, Lord, Thy will, not mine!

Off to party for Mumsy. Sing any and all birthday songs you know!

Mood: Cheerful. :)
Music: Julie's copy of The Two Towers.
Note: WHICH IS STILL COMING OUT ON MONDAY! HURRAH HURRAH!

Saturday, November 15, 2003

Why is the word "palindrome"...

...not itself a palindrome? And what would palindromic music sound like? Unless it sounds an awful lot like a Bach fugue or any piece by Philip Glass. Which is to say, one can play it backwards with no change in sound.

My brother, Peter, gave me this great excuse for not going into school. Rather than calling in sick, he said I could tell them that I was "calling in ugly." Oy! Made me laugh till I had a stitch in my side. Alas, it could be an excuse used rather too often - in feelings if not in actual appearance. (But then again, who really looks terrific waking up?)

So, my students asked me whether we would mourn those who are damned, if we ourselves achieve Heaven. My own thought - and I'm not sure if this is true or not - is that we probably are allowed some "time" (outside of time) in which to mourn. But it says that "every tear shall be wiped away," and yet Christ still bears His wounds. Which brings me to today's amazing link: Bruderhof Communities - The Crucifix by Thomas Howard. I've no idea why the Bruderhof of all places would link to Thomas Howard on the nature of divine suffering (much less why the Bruderhof has a website...) but there you are. Nyah! YES! Christ has imbued suffering with all His divine nature, and therefore His Passion (see waaay below) is something that should not be dismissed as a mere "morbid fancy."

Those religions which dismiss suffering seem suspect to me. So much of our life is suffering in one sense or another - although I should not go so far as to, as Ch. says, be a "typical Scot" who is sure that "something is wrong with the world if he's not suffering." To say, with the Bhuddist, that one merely must overcome it, seems to dismiss all the goodness that comes out of suffering, the strength it creates in us, the lessons we learn, the life we value more greatly. Likewise, the typical Protestant response, that is to dismiss it in favor of solely the Resurrection, seems to me to miss the point of what makes the Resurrection so great to begin with. Without suffering, there is no eucatastophe. Suffering, although not something to be sought, is nevertheless redeemed by Christ who gives it meaning, who draws it into Himself and resurrects us with Him. But read Thomas Howard's article - indeed, read anything by Thomas Howard - and be better educated than by me.

Mood: Why, oh why, precious, is it so difficult to get my thoughts straight about this stupid novel? The brick wall of a jumbled screen obscures the plot.
Music: The Hours - horrid movie, good music
Thought: MONDAY TTT-EXTENDED IS OUT! And they all rejoiced.

[Edited to add:] I am going to...maybe not cry, but certainly say "Poot!" with great force and much ferocity. I am stuck stuck stuck stuck STUCK on this rassin'frassin' STUPID novel. >huff huff< Not stupid, no. Rather I'm the dummy here. But it simply...is slipping through the sieve that I like to call my brain. I can't focus, I can't get it work, and I've had all stinking day! Ugh! I suppose it's something to do with not being in practice - writing that is. But...UGH! Alright, enough venting. Off to at least read what I've written months before, remind myself to "kill my darlings" and get to the point. I'd rather not leave this ridiculous seat until at least ONE PAGE, heck, I'll settle for a paragraph, has been completed. Gah! Lord, Lord, Lord! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalp!

[Edited to add to add:] I've suddenly had a panic attack. Monday are auditions. Monday are auditions. Stupid panic attack, I know but.... Sorry, my brain had played mind games on me today re: what day it is in what relation to other days, oh gah...! I think I need to change the music. The Hours is starting to grate on my nerves....

[Edited to add to add to add:] Mark Shea says it best on the first page of his blog: "So that no thought of mine, no matter how stupid, should ever go unpublished again!" :) Preach it, Mr. Shea!

Friday, November 14, 2003

Tonight, toniiiight

Can't remember THE ly-riiiics
Tonight there will be noooo morning staaaaar!
Tonight, tonight,
The world was >hmmm< and bright
Going mad, shooting stars into spaaaaaaaaace!
Today, the world was just a playground,
A place for me to live in,
No better than all riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
But here you are
And what was once a world is a staaaaaaaaaaaar!
TO-niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!


>ahem< Your daily singing. :)

A crick in my neck
A work outfit in need of changing
A Loony Toons movie to cross one's eyes at
A Diet Coke with No Caffine
And an E-mail and a Post from two unlikely sources that encourage me to continue on writing, despite poor stabs at it today. *sigh* Once again, we asks ourselves, precious, why we used such high-falutin' lingo? What was we thinkin' of?

On a happier note, woo-HOO some of my students are gung-HO against the Culture of Death. FWAH! Yes! Joy in conquering! *insert Indiana Jones theme here as Emily rides off into the sunset - ouch!*

Tomorrow will, hopefully be full of the following: sleep, confession, mucho writing of next novel, sleep. Ah, the great ambition of me. I know that it says in Heaven we won't need to sleep, but I certainly hope rest is on the menu - I think it will be. To be honest, though, I'll miss sleep - or at least I presume I will. It's really nice to stop. But, then, isn't that sort of part of Heaven anyway? Stopping, I mean, from all the distractions. Or rather, starting what ought to have been done in the first place? Fun to contemplate, anyway.

Rather frustrating when one views one ("One loved one and one returned one's love. One were not one, though." - must finish that at some point) as a mere "down-beat complaining factory or soundboard." When one really wants to laugh and joke and SOMEITMES be the philosophical downboard. Ah well. Che sera sera. Perhaps one doesn't know what to say to one. (One two three two one.)

And on that pronoun frenzy...!

Mood: Mal de tete. Meh.
Music: Pendular PMS tape a second ago.
Thought: Supper, supper, yo ho ho! And woo-hoo to see Pirates of the Caribbean is still on the top twenty for box office movies. Nyah!

Thursday, November 13, 2003

Not much to say, except



THIS made my day! Right, so the daily wrap-up:

1) Parent meetings weren't horrific. Surprisingly, did not see parents of student who I had to do up report for. Several pleasant encounters. All is right with the world.

2) Am semi-recovered from overworking my body. I had a slight fever last night, went to bed around 9, fell asleep around 10, woke up at 6:30 still with slight fever and called in sick for the morning. Made it through the day. Fever receded somewhat. Am now about to go to sleep again, and soon. Right - if my body wasn't dealing with THAT stress, how will it deal with everything else I'm going to be throwing at it?

3) I think I've figured out how Aiden is going to work as a novel. Am contemplating Isobel losing her first child during the course of first novel. May do so. Means I need to rewrite last section of Urdur/Selecia scene, but means I get to use the Urdur/Selecia scene. Now to figure out who this mysterious "medicine man" guy is - and what relation to Imordda. Did I write this down already?

4) I had this fabulous idea on the way back about something I want to blog. It was clever, it was insightful, it is gone. *nnnngh*

5) Ah, nevermind. Just tried to think of something worth reading. *pffft!* Good night, mes cheres! Boogie down!

Mood: Dang! What was that masked thought?
Mood Redux: That was that masked thought! It was - OK, this isn't well-thought out - but I was thinking of "internet handles" - that is the code names we come up with for ourselves to preserve anonymity (sp?), even while hoping to make a name for ourselves. And yet, most of these pixelated masks that we create are hollow, are obviously an attempt at something clever or dashing to really cover a normal - and sometimes "dull" - life. And yet, I thought, I love writing about "masked men" or putting them on stage. There's something romantic about a mask, an opportunity to be the smirking vigilante that one can't be in daily life. Yet, I think only those who already have some substance can pull off a mask well. Meaning, a mask covering a vaccuum, or a shallowness, is no greater than that which it covers. In order for a mask to have effect, it must cover that which is already full and vibrant. In fact, masks - like mirrors - work best to reflect who we truly are (although not to be confused for the original). Just a poor beginning of a thought - rather amusing to return to the subject of so many of my high school poems.
Music: Secret Garden Dreamcatcher
Thought: Nope. Solly, Chahllie!

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

A-blogging we will go...!

I would like to apologize in advance for the sloppy state this journal will be in over the next several months. Although I fully anticpate that I will find time to go off on thoughts actually worth recording, for the sake of sanity between two plays, a talent show and a premiere art show whilst running two clubs and writing a novel - and all this in the midst of teaching and all that goes with THAT - I propose to use this blog as a means whereby one can store all the drips and drabbles of the brain, whether that be worthy of publication or not.

Which, of course, is one of the reasons why small presses are generally frowned upon and the elite sneer at such things as "blogs." How can the bourgeoisie ever produce something of lasting value if there is no editor? I'm half-inclined to agree with their sneer, but at the same time inclined to remind said editors that all work is at SOME point, unpublished. Which is to say, its state of publication (or lack thereof) does not necessarily correspond to its worthiness OF the printing. Much that is in print should have never seen the light of day. Much that is dropped in passing will be appreciated only in Heaven. So we await that ultimate editor, time, to sort through all our yesterdays and keep that which is golden.

I could report on how today is going. But since that last had the faintest edge of poetry, I'll stop there.

Mood: Seeking out sleep in a half-hour. Dunno what to do with my seniors who are finished with Last Battle. Why do we do this to ourselves, precious?
Music: "Under the Bridge" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers a la the mental jutebox and recording of students auditioning for the talent show this afternoon...evening...always...good but WHY are we STILL at school precious?
Thought: Latent knighthood makes one squishy, or sugar-highed, or able to have a podium, in ascending order of importance. And walking through Boston on a mild night is bliss.

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Train of Thought

A few more:

1) Saw the latest Matrix. OK, on one hand, at least stuff happened in this movie, rather than the disjointedness of the last one. And granted, their Christology wasn't 100% off - but, then, why do their Christological images still ring so very falsely? I suppose because their idea of Christ is waaaay off. And because of all the philosophical dreck in the previous movies (esp. Reloaded). Usual worldbuilding loopholes. Felt like there was a lot they cut out of this. Don't bother believing many of the pre-release spoilers - almost nothing is paid off in this movie. And then there's this whole dualism thing of Order vs. Chaos (with Chaos, naturally, being the good guy or woman rather). Sad when I'm rooting for the bit parts! Still, if you're in the mood for bang-em-up-shoot-em-up fights a la LOTS of CGI and wooden acting, by all means see the matinee showing.

2) Am writing The Road Less Trod (working title for), my latest screenplay. Feels like this one might actually go somewhere and come fairly easily! God willing! Have Tuesday off (mostly), thank God, so I'll be trying to get some writing on TRLT and Aiden then. We'll see.

3) The .mpg files don't blow up on the screen as well as the .avi files do, but the .mpg's take up less room...what's a girl to do? *sigh* Buy compressing software, one supposes. Gah!

4) How do I get my computer to read CD-R's or DVD-R's - or rather make them - again? Ah, this silly plugged in world!

5) Strange dream last night. Last two nights, really. Very plot-heavy - that is, not really disjointed as most dreams, more linear, cause-and-effect-y than others. Very tactile, which isn't always pleasant for when one wakes up and still "feels" those sensations. Similar to the dream a few months (weeks?) ago wherein the hand was being massaged by similar main character as the one in last night's dream. Not giving any sort of portentiousness to these - they don't have that, ah, feel (no pun intended) - but still rather vivid. Noteworthy in that respect. And that they're not simply or obviously (unfortunately perennial) anxiety dreams. I speak in riddles and nothing to the point. But that's the joy of a public journal - sorry, folks, no spillage here! ;P Curioser and curioser....

6) Can we say that Troy looks like it's going to SO rock?!?!?! I've never been more thrilled at the mustering of the ships than I've ever been in my life. Woo-HOO! Homer, babe, gotta love ya! (As will, I suspect, millions of college students who have to read you and then wonder why they get points taken off their papers when they say that you mentioned the Trojan Horse because It's In The Movie.... %)

7) Yet again, we finish when the Lord did.

Mood: Eh
Music: Far From Home's debut album - good stuff
Thought: I wish Mary Poppins's means of cleaning worked. *snap snap* Drat.
You Can Never Trust These Things: See, I'll eat most everything on the table BUT the smashed potatoes! Silly willy!

Mashed potatoes
MASHED POTATOES: You are going for the mashed
potatoes! While everyone else is crowded around
the turkey, fighting over it with each other,
you have slipped in to the true heart of the
meal.Now you can have your way with the butter,
chives, gravy, cheese, and sour cream. It's the
mashed potatoes that fill you up, and you
intend to get into those smooth creamy fluffs
before they are all gone! There is always
leftover turkey, but never leftover mashed
potatoes, and you are smart enough to know
there is a reason for that!



The ThanksGiving Day Feast !!
brought to you by Quizilla

Still, this is fun: Gee, I get to be the hero - and wear a cassock?

You are Neo
You are Neo, from "The Matrix." You
display a perfect fusion of heroism and
compassion.


What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Not too shabby! Just for kicks....

Wildhorn's Scarlet Pimpernel
The Frank Wildhorn musical - Scarlet Pimpernel,
with a first season cast of Douglas Sills,
Christine Andreas, and Terrance Mann.


Which Scarlet Pimpernel are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Saturday, November 08, 2003

Randomization

More thunks before retiring:

1) The poetry on this site isn't meant to be taken over seriously. Alas, a filter that most likely only Julie possesses on every other alternate Thursday in months ending in "Y" will somehow make sense of metaphors gone wild based off a tenuous reality.

2) Noises Off is a STUPID play. It's a great concept, but poorly executed, with all these plants and NO pay-offs, no story line or through arc or anything. One is tempted to write a good version of that play. One may do so and put it on this summer if one is not overworked with other productions (one hopes).

3) I still like my hat.

4) Beautiful funeral mass this morning. Father Mike Mac gave the homily (thank You, God!), and although I don't usually find myself affected by death in real life (weird, I know), I found myself tearing up here - and I never knew the man. The thing was, I was actually contemplating my own mortality, and what my funeral might be like, and how perhaps I could still bring others to Christ if I "direct" my funeral before I die - write out what I want, etc. Anywho, even better I felt very close to God - a grace I've not had for a while, at least directly - and all I wanted was to lean into His arms on a coast very much like Ireland's rocky shores, all covered in long green grass. *sigh* Lord? Some days I wouldn't mind going home, even if it is early. But You know best, and I do like it here, but keep me worthy of You. Amen.

5) So, it looks like I've got an AD! Woo-hoo! Tres excited about Pirates now. Went to Two-Ring last night, and things went spiffingly (even if I was cornered a few times by nervous newbies trying to get an "in" with the director. *sigh* Whaddevah. Where are the chicken wings?). Watched the 1993 copy of the play. Yeah - feeling confident. Have an AD who is faboo. Meeting Monday night re: auditions. Auditions all too soon! Things are going to be completely crazy. I'm going to forget all about taking time for myself. I'm going to need to give myself retreats on a semi-regular basis: my guess? Mostly Sundays! Oh, Lord - You trickster, You! Busy day today, busy day tomorrow, and then this week is going to kick off about five months of various levels of stressful hell. Y'know - I admire Dante, but I didn't really want to sign up for the full-tour. ;P

6) Going to sleep soon. Going to watch the Tango again to bolster myself. Rachel wants me to do the Quartet next. Did I write that already? May do something shorter, to save HD space whilst waiting to get new HD. Must save sheckles for new HD. Gave rather large check to Mom and Dad - am glad to have finally done so. Pulling in my belt. This is good - poverty is a good thing - yeah, what was that about being Franciscan? Oy! Well, I am resigning myself to you more and more, Francis old buddy old pal. Hmmm, might not be a bad idea to look into joining the secular Franciscans. Must talk to Jenny Wren about that. Wow, how we digress....

7) And on the seventh day, He rested.

Mood: Sleepy with an ill-made bed
Music: Naught at the moment. Perhaps Henry V again.
Thought: Jules is watching A Walk to Remember upstairs. *snerk* Get me one, Daddy! Why is it that we write so much about the "bad boy with the heart of gold" and fall for the requisite bad boy in life and then find out that the heart of gold bit is what makes the books we love fiction? I suppose it's the universal fallen Eve's desire for her fallen husband, Adam. Regardless, get me a Byronic hero any day! (Except that in real life I'd end up beating him black and blue for being such a nerd and then throw up my hands at his moodiness and find myself a nice, limping male Librarian instead. "That is why it's called fiction." ;)

Friday, November 07, 2003

Tra la fur Sweisters and All-Day Adoration

Or at least, two hours adoration, and then the other classes brought up to "chill with God" before the tabernacle. This is good. I needed time to just be with Him. And thank God! Apparently Jules is planning to come to the party with me tonight - I hope it goes well.

So, short blog, nothing very profound, off to shower and look semi-presentable As Your Director. Sometimes I wish I could just peel my skin off and not bother with appearances, except that's contrary to the triune nature of body, mind and soul that only humans possess. So it's a futile thought and not one I actually desire - I just wish I weren't quite as conscious about "how I look" (and yet stupidly unconscious!).

Wake for the Ber.'s grandfather, and funeral tomorrow. Lord, bless them! Amen.

Mood: FA-TI-GUE! Managed the ten minute version of morning rituals this morning thanks to oversleeping. Nnngh.
Music: Some of the incidental orchestral jazz from Chicago a la les cells gris et petit!
Thought: HA! I laugh in the face of thoughts!

Thursday, November 06, 2003

The night is fled/and we are wed
And ever more are merry


I think I'll order tonight's observations a la the Vertumnal:

Root and Branch: Life is so good. God is so good. Look how he uses school to force me out of myself. Tonight I learned that I have not changed all that much - inside - from who I was in Kindergarten. I've grown bolder in some respects, less fearful (or at least ACTING less fearful) in others, I've certainly grown physically and mentally...but emotionally? I've always been terrified of the romance of meeting other people. I've become better, but that final intimacy - even *seriously* (not cherubicly) considering it - still terrifies me. Perhaps this is not absolutely uncommon. But it does rather put me in the position of Brunhilda among the flames. Indeed, I am she. Although I'll forgo a Seigfried exclaiming, "Das ist kein Mann!" and the subsequent immolation! But, no - "Das ist kein Mann!" is a perfectly right response. For first should come friendship and then the realization that there is an otherness of the sexes that allows for eros.

Budding Bough: Ah, but thou winged god! Thou art indeed a very beast.
Thou whisperest in mine ear, invisible, to all unseen, yet felt in the darkling hour.
What then?
Have I courage to lift the veil, to raise the lamp and see?
Have I the courage - nay, more, have I such folly?
Abandon that false wisdom that beckons one
to sleep beside the unseen god, secure in his arms yet ignorant.
Raise the lamp! Lift the veil!
See for one reckless moment, in all thine ordered life, the wild beauty of thy god!
What matter if thou banished art?
What matter if to the darkest hell thou art sent
before thou mayest return, a bride in truth?
What dost thou fear but love himself?
Why dost thou linger, pale shadow thrown against the curtain
from the lamp half-lofted by the indecisive hand.
And yet linger, Psyche doth -
linger, ponder, until she aging grows -
a wrinkled bride for eternal youth.
Let not time sag thy bones until to see beyond the damned veil
is nothing but a dream of youth, a memory of eyes that once could see.
Linger not, ponder not, lest thou never know thy groom.
What thou he be a terror - for he a god and thou afraid?
The terror is thine, yet not of thine own fabric - cast it off with the cursed veil.
Seeping light, tentative, upon the swirled and dimpled sheet
that covers he she knows well and yet knows not at all
falls gently upon his face.
What wonder then he opes his eyes and smiles?

Burning Leaves: Less poetic now: reread Music for Medina. It would be more comfortable as a novel but it does well on its own. A goodly world. I think I'll reread Poityr next. Wow, I love the world of Arianja. And yet, it is too large for my poor head just yet! How curious, I want to see that world so much - not live there, but walk about it, touch the statues, observe the Pleubeq, the hexagonal tenements. I want to live in No. 12 Collegium Square, I want to see the multiple pictures of Yvonne on the crumbling Medini walls, I want to walk the fifty steps of jade to the palace of the Djo, I want to walk among her water paths, I want to see the spires of Haraggini. But you know, I *can* see these things. I just need to travel in this world more. Aie! I want to go out to another country right now. I want to go to India, to see the Taj Mahal. I want to visit Florence again, and meander about the side-streets, and find that perfect corner of Renquois transported to where we drank that silly bottle of impossible-to-open wine. I want to see the Alps again. This world is so full of natural beauty and the glories of man's better augmentations! Why can I not see it all? *sigh* I must travel again. I wonder if I can swing anything for this summer or next. "I want to see mountains Gandalf!" It's true - I'm sick of living in the city. Not that I don't like where I live, I just want to take a week and sit on the rocky DESERTED beach of New Hampshire, I want to go to North Dakota and see the sky and the stars again, I want to find a moor and walk among the tall grass. Ah! I'm in the mood I was in when Kristen and I wrote More. Yes, Lord, MORE!

Snow Silk Gloves: Despite today being difficult, despite DVD's not being made in the night, and a bed too late sought, and various other every-day-isms, I am loverly content. Mainly due to conversation in between and after open house. Few and far between are the contented times. Could I catch it in a handkerchief, hold the smell of simple peace within its cotton folds, and bear it with me wherever I go to bury my face within it when the world becomes too much.... And alas, beginning tomorrow night, the world is going to become too much and Miss Snyder's going to be stretched very very thin. Lord, I'm going to need a lot of strength to get through the tasks you've given me this year - not impossible tasks, not disagreeable, but plenty. I suppose I asked for more, eh? I suppose this is the more. My cup overflows! Oh Lord, be there to catch me!

Mood: Well, well, well
Music: "Non nobis domine" from Henry V - good CD! Been a while since I pulled this one out. I was looking for Man of LaMancha but couldn't find it so thought I'd stick this one in. *sigh* God, you are so good! Indeed, not to myself but to You be the glory!
Thought: How enclosed have I become
Pensee deuxieme: [Edited to add] - I just read the first bit of Poityr and I'm very much afraid that I still haven't found the beginning. As I feared, I think I must write about their time in Senel as its own novel. This is going to be a very long novel, in fact, a trilogy. Oy! It's OK, Em, don't hyperventilate - you've got to write Aiden first. And that's more or less a stand alone! Yippee!

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

O happy fault!

An e-mailing we will go!(2x)
High-ho-the-derry-o!
An e-mailing we will go!

Same caveats and apologies apply.


For the other articles on Mel Gibson's The Passion, look here and here.

(Warning - I went a bit nuts here. Long, delete if you'd prefer! :)

*cracking knuckles*

Just to begin with, let me say that I enjoy this exchange as well, and I hope that none of my comments come across with belligerence (although the occasional light-hearted swap is probably something I'll admit to being guilty of).

>Well, yeah, but it's still a 'rough cut', not a 'critics cut'.

And? In my book, the fact that it's rough *and still affects Miss-Picky-Me* is something worth noting. That I am not alone in a) being picky, b) seeing a rough cut and c) being driven to contrition and yes, joy in contrition - in fact in being driven towards "running the good race" makes this a greater achievement.

Likewise, I don't know - how many of you guys out there are into editing? I'm asking this as my computer is making a file of "The Real Love of My Life" from my production of Brigadoon that I edited last night. Anywho, so I've been showing my actors the rough-cuts and sometimes even the test cuts (that is, low LOW resolution - sort of what you'd see on my blog for "Bearskin") and this is the curious thing I've found. Despite the fact that the sound is bad, that I might add in one or two special effects later on, that there might be a bit of fine-tuning regarding color contrast and .03 seconds (literally) chopped or added here or there just for ease of transition, what the audience sees is the basic cut. And more, my own audiences have been able to view the rough low-res cuts without much distraction. They KNOW it's a rough low-res cut. They can see beyond that. In fact, the only major detraction would be me standing over their shoulder apologizing for all the subtleties that I know I need to fix.

So, if in my simple editing of plays (not even movies!), my audience is capable of seeing the final product and being affected, why can an audience member of Gibson's rough-cut (and much better rough cut than my poor stuff!) "The Passion" not similarly be capable of taking it's "in progress-ness" in stride?

Perhaps I just am not understanding what your contention is.

>I'm not familiar with her work either -- I just know what "the experts" say. :)

Ach, weel. Then I think it would be best for both of us to read not "the experts" but the lady herself, and then see the movie, and reread the Gospels and the Early Church Fathers, and THEN comment, eh?

>No, I don't think so. I raise the canonical issue simply because people keep saying that Gibson is "just being true to the gospel", as though there were no other influences on the film, when clearly there are.

Gotcha. Alright, I amend. Gibson is influenced by a) the Gospels primarily; b) tradition (which is what the Bible is based upon: see here - http://www.catholic.com/library/scripture_tradition.asp ); c) his own artistic judgement, aka contemplating what it would have been like for these people BUT - and this is important - *within the context of the Gospel.* That IS the defining point between Gibson and, let's say, Scorcese (or Andrew Lloyd Webber) - there is no Biblical foundation for Jesus and Mary Magdalene "getting it on" as my students would say. Take a look here for more: http://www.mark-shea.com/real.html

(And before we start getting into: "How can you [Emily] point me to a site of a "so-called expert" and then say I can't?" May I point out that, if you prefer, I could say what those who have written have said. However, they say it so much better than I! [Billy Goat Gruff anyone?] :)

Let me add, too: perhaps we would do well to recall (if you want to talk about oevres and genres and other -res) that "The Passion" is certainly a film in the style of Passion Plays, Pageants, and Medieval Drama. Ergo, it is based on the Gospels primarily, upheld by tradition, and augmented by the director/author's own meditations on the material. Consider it, please, as Gibson's meditation on the Gospel. His sermon. We don't stand up and throw the Good Book at our pastors when they preach, because they are meditating on Scripture. Rather we listen, we contemplate, we read the Gospel again, and in so doing we gain greater insight into the Gospels, into Christ. C. S. Lewis said of friendship that every friend brings out something new within himself, and therefore friendship is one of the only non-exclusive loves. I'd imagine that the same can be said for honest reflections on the Scripture.

>And yet he *was* the first person to raise the possibility, in public,
that his film might be controversial. Frank Rich deduces from this fact that Gibson has been baiting Jews all along. Rich might very well be wrong, but Gibson can't quite blame "the media" as though he hadn't fired the first shots or tried to use the media to his advantage, too.

I'm sorry - didn't Jesus say, "Blessed are you WHEN they persecute you for My Name's sake"? That's a rather important word there: WHEN. Not "if," not "should" - WHEN. "The Passion" was controversial the moment Gibson declared he would put it on. Go over and read Barbara Nicolosi's blog, you'll see the history of it. Beyond that, could you point me to Frank Rich's site again? And does he point me to what he himself is referencing? (I'm reminded of my honors profs quipping every five minutes or so, "Cite your source! Cite your source!")

>> I was able to meet some of the Legionnaries of Christ, too, who were
> with the crew while filming and it appears that the movie has been under attack from the beginning. Little wonder!

>Details?

Apparently, when filming in Rome (for the Praetorium scenes - nothing like authentic Roman architecture!), there was a lot of hoopla over the project. Unfortunately, Italy is degenerating into a secular pagan state. (Something I was saddened to witness even in '97 when I was over there.) They weren't happy with anyone filming about the Passion of Christ, and were apparently being snippy to Gibson - you know, the petty politics, the red tape, the libel, etc. So the Legionnairies of Christ - a fairly new order of priests in the Catholic Church, wonderfully orthodox and faithful to the magisterium (that means to Scripture and Tradition - see the Nicene Creed for further details) - showed up one day at the set. They weren't invited, but they stayed regardless. And they acted as go-betweens, to help keep the local nasty politics to a minimum, to help guide Gibson and his crew through the social mores and norms, and to acts as theological advisors - both for the content of the film, and as spiritual pastors for the members of the cast and crew. Since they grew so close to the cast and crew, when they held a retreat for campus ministers, they were able to convince the folks over at Icon Pictures to let them see the whole movie. This was the conference I attended.

>Again, I do not object to non-canonical elements in movies based on the gospels.

Excellent!

>I simply note these non-canonical elements to indicate that
those who say the film is "just being true to the gospel"

See above for what the definition of "being true to the Gospel" is that I meant, anyway.

>are apparently incorrect on that point, and I wonder what else they are incorrect on.

I'd need specifics here. We are getting down to matters of theology, not opinion. And I'd agree with you: if God is One, then to know Him means that is One, too.

>Um, no, not to the point where I would say I was "just taking dictation" (the equivalent of Gibson's "just directing traffic"), at any rate.

LOL - well, I'd say that in a few places of my writing, I felt like I was taking dictation! And certainly, when I'm directing, I'm aware that it's like the play is already directed, and I'm just verbalizing. I don't know that I'd quite equate it with prophecy, but I'm certain, again, that as it says in Hebrews, God does not leave us to flounder - esp. in such a crucial (or is that a Crucifix-al?) matter.

>> And you don't feel guilt when you think of what Christ suffered for you?

>Um, no. I do feel profound gratitude and awe and indebtedness and various other things when I ponder that subject, and I do feel guilt when I commit sins myself, but I don't put the two together so much -- like I say, I don't think God was planning on torturing all us sinners to death to begin with, nor do I think I would have been as bloodthirsty as the people who called for Jesus' death or who actually killed him.

OK, pardon me right now for being the religion teacher. And pardon me, too, for any consequent pedantics! To those who disagree with the theology I'm about to espouse, I ask pardon for any offense I might give. Look at what I'm about to write as an interesting explanation of the Catholic understanding of the meaning of suffering - an academic exercise, then, if you will. :)

1) Is God planning on torturing sinners?

No. No, no, a thousand times, no. His *plan* never included our torture, much less our downfall. His plan, however, did include our ability to make a choice between His plan and our own flawed - nay sinful (that is "lack of God") plans. Obviously, we chose our own plans at some point, and have from that moment had to suffer the consequences of our own actions.

When we sin, we choose nothingness, for we choose against God, or rather we choose "not God" which is by definition "nothingness." Hence, when we sin we are declaring our "desire" for nothingness - to BECOME nothingness, to "die the death" as it says literally in Hebrew in Genesis (in relation to what will happen to Adam and Eve if they eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil).

So in effect, when we choose sin, we choose death. For there is no life apart from God. He does not torture us; we torture ourselves. He does not decree the death penalty for us; we demand the death penalty for ourselves. (I won't go to comment now on the Culture of Death, but it is telling, non?)

2) Then what is God's plan?

Well, clearly God makes good from everything. As St. Augustine said, "O happy fault! O necessary sin of Adam!" Because we fell, because we chose to be sinners in need of a savior, God became our savior. Did He *have* to? Well, technically, God doesn't have to do anything. He certainly didn't *need* to make us, nor did He *need* to give us the choice to love Him freely. (In fact, He has no needs.) But rather, He chose to free us from our own nothingness Himself.

Now, can we argue that in some way God's Incarnation was part of His plan from the beginning? Certainly, some theologians have speculated as such. Me? I can't presume to know the mind of God. So I'll simply shout with St. Agustine, "O happy fault! O necessary sin of Adam, that won us such a Savior!"

3) But WHY did God become man?

I mentioned this before, I'll try to 'splain better. ("No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Humperdink is marry Buttercup in little less a half and hour...." ;P)

Who sinned? Man did. Therefore, who can make reparation for sin? Only man can make up for what man did. Think of the proverbial baseball through the window. The kid who threw the ball and broke the window is the one responsible for apologizing and repairing the window.

HOWEVER, if you're going to make up for something, you've got to make up for it perfectly. The guy whose window is shattered isn't going to be satisfied if the kid tapes together the pieces, or only repairs half the window, or pays a pittance for its restoration.

BUT, since we are now born with original sin and concupiscence (the sin of Adam and the tendency to sin), since we are in fact fallen through our own free will, we are incapable of making perfect restitution. It's as though the kid who threw the ball can't pay the full price of the window because he's SPENT most of his allowance on said ball.

WHAT'S A MAN TO DO? We're not playing ball with God. We owe Him, as was shown, by the very nature of sin, our *lives.* He gave us life, we threw it in His Most Adorable Face, spitting on it and refusing it and refusing Him, and if we have thrown away Life we have chosen death. Should we care to make restitution, we must first ask for our battered life back again, and then with no tools whatsoever (except those He gives us), we are meant to repair His gift - and repair it awkewardly and poorly because we keep abusing His gift again and again. We're in a very bad way.

WHAT DO WE NEED? Since through Adam came sin and death, thus through the New Adam must come grace and life. Since only God can give life, only God can be the New Adam (the first Man, indeed, the *only* Man). Since the reparation must be perfect, the New Adam must be perfect. Since no man from Adam on down is perfect, no "son of man" can be perfect...

UNLESS the "Son of Man" is also the "Son of God," or is in fact God Himself. God is perfect. God can perfectly restore the damage we have inflicted on ourselves. But God is the offended party. How can God make restitution to Himself? How can God make the restutition due Him *by man and man alone*?

AND THE WORD BECAME FLESH, AND DWELT AMONG US. Let's finish my imperfect analogy. God paying our price, is something like the man whose window was smashed BECOMING one of those children and then offering to pay the price to Himself. (I told you it was an imperfect analogy. So let's skip it and get to the meatier stuff.)

Since only man could make up for man's sin, and since man must make up perfectly but is incapable of doing so, God who is perfect and can make perfect restitution became man TO MAKE man's restitution.

Since man sinned and chose death, Christ the Giver of Life became man, became sin, became death, and gave us new life, gave us the graces (or sacraments) to remove sin, and conquored death. He who had never sinned, took upon Himself all our sin to expunge that sin from us. He who alone of all men bore no guilt, took upon Him the guilt of us all. "By His stripes, we are healed."

Since man deserved death (since he chose), God became man TO DIE. The price isn't one of silver and gold, or nice platitudes. The price is a life. A full, perfect unblemished life. And the only one who possesses such life is Life Himself.

Since God cannot die, yet was willing to die for us, God became man - a form that could die - and so He was able to pay the price.

Since God is Life, He could resurrect, He could conquor death. Since God paid the price, restitution has been offered AND accepted. (QED)

4) Then why, if God paid the price, should we ever bother with guilt again? Aren't we saved?

God paid the price, but in so doing, He did not consequently remove our free will. He opened the doors to Heaven, He repaired the "divine window" (if you will :) - but He still will not force us to enter. We must still choose life or death. "I put before you dusty death and life." Choose life.

So our salvation must be "worked out in fear and trembling." Think Augustine mixed with Einstein here. We're temporal beings. That is, we live in time. This is a fundamentally different state than angels, who live in what I'll call "the eternal now." (That may be a cheap way of getting out of explaining how their time works, but since I cannot possibly know HOW but know that it DOES work differently than ours, I hope you will forgive me. For a better proof see St. Augustine's "City of God.")

When the angels were created, they began in that "eternal now." They were given perfect knowledge and understanding, and they were given free will. Since in that moment, that eternal now, that neverending minute, they had the opportunity for choice - a choice that could never be rescinded since there was no "time" as it were to rescind it - they each exercised their free will once and for all (by our reckoning of time! Bear with me here). Some chose God, some chose eternal separation. For an angel, he really is "saved once, saved always" since "once" and "always" ARE the same for him.

However, since we humans have been given the awesome gift of time (remember only "for a little while we are lower than the angels"), that means that our each and every choice, as Lewis says, "turns us into a more and more heavenly or a more and more hellish creature." That is, although Christ has made restitution for us, although He has paid our debt, we still at every minute of every day have the opportunity to accept or reject His Sacrifice.

Let me put it this way. I sin every day. I hate it, but I manage to overeat, to procrastinate, to be surly to those around me, to you name it. What am I meant to do with those feelings of guilt that my conscience arouses in me? Can I simply say, "Ah well, I've thrown the proverbial ball through God's proverbial window again, but He's already paid the price so I won't worry about it." What will such a mentality lead me to? I feel the need to confess. I know I must accept God's judgement AND His mercy again. I know I have just chosen death once more - and even worse, chosen death when life has been bought so dearly for me.

While I am a temporal creature, my salvation cannot be fully assured. I myself assure that it cannot be so every time I sin. Since I live in time, I have not yet that "eternal now" which I shall encounter at my death. Since I live in time, my every action still affects whether I'm working out my salvation in fear and trembling or spitting from the sidelines.

5) GAH! WHAT?!??!?!?

OK, let me use another bad analogy. Paul keeps using the analogy of working out one's salvation like a racer training for the final sprint. So imagine that each of your actions (with the exception of, oh, "what sock color shall I wear" - you know) either trains you for the race of impedes you from the race. If I want to be in top form for Judgement, I must practice every day, watch my weight, get plenty of rest, keep my body, mind and soul healthy, active and keen to the best of my ability by the grace of God. But if I do so only intermittently, I won't run the best I could. If I don't do so at all, I'll never reach the goal. Most of us tend to do intermittent training. We'll do some stretches and then we'll eat a bag of potatoe chips. If we're REALLY sinning, it's more like we're shooting up drugs - something that really impedes us immediately from training.

There are two important words I ought to use properly. By salvation I mean "finally reaching Heaven." God alone makes this possible though His sacrifice and resurrection. But we can cooperate with His grace or deny it. However, I will never reach Heaven until I finally reach Heaven - just as I can't say that I've reached Barnes & Nobles until I've actually set foot in the store! The other word is justification. Justification is being on the right road to salvation, to Heaven. Again, God alone justifies us, but we must cooperate with His graces. I believe, as a Catholic, that Christ instituted the sacraments to justify us, to bring us back to the right road to Heaven.

And I believe that God works through many emotions - guilt and joy - to draw us towards His grace of justification (with an eye always to salvation!). The former, guilt, we Catholics call "imperfect contrition," that is repenting of our sins and embracing His sacrifice because we fear damnation. The latter, joy or better love, we Catholics call "perfect contrition," that is repenting of our sins and embracing His cross because we love Him so much that our heart breaks that we have inflicted any pain to His Most Precious Body whatsoever.

6) Yeeeeah, that Blood thing. That Body thing. That "He became sin" thing. That contemplating the Wounds - creepy.

Not when you think that He became sin, which means that every torture He endured - emotionally, mentally, physically - is OUR sin. That "He took upon Himself the chastisement of us all." In Catholic understanding, we frequently meditate on our mental sins when contemplating His crown of thorns - pride, envy, wrath, etc. - and our physical sins when we contemplate His scourging at the pillar - lust, avarice, gluttony, etc.

THIS is what "The Passion" inspired in me. To see Him bearing my sins upon His Perfect Flesh - to know that I am that person looking the other way, I am that Roman with the cat-o-nine-tails, I am that bad thief jeering the least of His people. Is it perfect or imperfect contrition? I'd like to think that my love for God grew because of this film. I think for myself I was inspired with more perfect contrition than I have felt before.

7) How can this be? How can GUILT lead to LOVE?

Well, all I can say is that we're weird creatures. But not as weird as the platypus. OK, sorry, all seriousness aside, haven't you ever noticed that the people you love the most are the ones you feel the most guilt for when you hurt them? I know when I've offended my sister, I'm simply MISERABLE, wracked with shame at my actions, BECAUSE I know I have hurt one who holds all my love.

In a way, "imperfect contrition" is guilt still mixed with pride - the fear is all for one's own sake, not for the sake of the one harmed. But this is the great thing about God's mercy - He'll getcha anyway He can. Perhaps it's through fear. Perhaps it's through love. Nevertheless the "hound of Heaven," our most perfect Lover, our glorious Creator and Savior simply *will not give up* on us.

We'll give up on us, sure. We'll drop our crosses, we'll join the Romans half-way through - and remember that our greatest *saints* have said that the closer they draw near to God, the more they see how very far they still have to go! None of us are exempt from free will, concupiscence or time. But God will not falter. "Although a mother forsake her child, I will not abandon you."

8) So, um, you're advocating going around flagellating ourselves, right? (Images of Monty Python lurk in the distance...!)

No. I'm not asking you to get out the cane. But I hope that you - I hope that I! - realize that, again, to grow more deeply in love with someone is to join in their suffering. Go watch "Shadowlands." Great movie. To live is to feel the full gamut of emotion. To Live in Christ is to feel every emotion He did as well. To live is to live in the "romance of orthodoxy" as Chesterton calls it - to have our valiant knights on the cusp of disaster, to fight Tolkien's "long defeat," to "fight when your arms are too weary," and YET to be joyful.

We Catholics have so many feast days! For yes, we know that our Redeemer lives. Again as Joy Gresham says in "Shadowlands" - "the sorrow then is part of the happiness now." Good Friday is inextricable from Easter. We feel the joy of the Resurrection so much more keenly because we have known the heartache of the Crucifixion. We feel greater love for our God because He sacrifice so much. We feel His mirth because we can share in the divine joke. As one preacher put it, "It's Friday - but Sunday's a-comin'!"

I need not fear sorrow (nor the arrow that flies by day!) BECAUSE my God has taken upon Himself all sorrow. In fact, I may embrace my sorrow, I may unite my sorrow with His, and therefore gain His peace that surpasses all understanding. I may share in His redemptive suffering.

9) Redemptive whosawhatseying? Are you claiming that Christ's sacrifice wasn't enough? Or isn't once and for all?

God forfend! No! Rather, I'm saying with Paul ("I make up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ") that BECAUSE Christ suffered, died and rose once and for all, my own meagre offerings of suffering, of daily martyrdom, and moments of grace HAVE MEANING. I can offer up my suffering to Christ for His use. My little aches and pains, my daily torments I can offer to Christ and as He transformed our weakness into His glory, so He will transform my humble offering into the greatest prayer. Suffering has meaning BECAUSE of Christ. "Take up your cross and follow me." To where? To Calvary, to Easter. But first to Calvary, because without Calvary, there is no Easter.

10) I'm still not seeing the joy element here.

Joy? Joy unbounded! No longer do I live in the Shadowlands. No longer need I rely on "good dreams." No longer do I hope for the Elysian Fields - a sort of nebulous "not as badness" - now I hope for full union with Christ! No longer do I live in moral relativity, now I may shout "He is alive! And He has come with a sword." Things are more vibrant BECAUSE Christ came and "made all things new."

"Thy will be done, Thy kingdom come," is not a platitude; He Himself said, "This day these words [that the Kingdom of God is at hand] have been fulfilled in your presence." We are citizens of the Kingdom of God by virtue of our baptism (see Acts, see "City of God," and others). We have the hope of the everlasting Eden, and the "taste" (indeed, for Catholics the taste!) of Heaven on Earth. Think of the wonders, the certainty, the thrilling sharpness of Eden. Think of the newness of the Earth. Think of the marvel of our bodies, of the grace of time, of the adventure of free will. THIS is what contemplating the Passion whips up in me. I dare to hope because I have been reminded that I must hope. I dare to have faith because I have been reminded at what price He renewed that faith. I dare to love because He showed us perfect love.

Perfect love is sacrificial. Every mother knows this. Perfect love means that you long for the beloved so much that you would rather take their suffering upon yourself. This Christ did for us. He loved us so much He took our suffering upon Himself. And yet He is not selfish - He knows that in order to even begin to love Him, we must share in a *part* of His suffering, too. "Purified as though through fire" as Paul says. O, let me Love as He loved! Or as Paul elsewhere says, "Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church, loving not His own life, but giving it up to sanctify His bride. This is a great mystery."

And that's where I'll end my ramblings. This is a great mystery, that love and sorrow should be so combined. This is a great mystery, and even if we do not fully comprehend it (I'm sure I don't!), even if we can't fully understand it (although movies like "The Passion" certainly helped me!), the graces of God's love and sacrifice are still available to us - perfectly or imperfectly; in awareness, and in awe of He who is the *greatest* mystery.

Mood: Je suis fatigue, mais bon, merci
Music: Surprisingly none. Intermittant "Tango" as I futz with the final cut.
Thought: Why can't there be more hours in the day? *sigh* I've got to remember to take time for myself. I'm ridiklewackle. Proof once again that the worst curse of Adam is forgetfulness.