The Pearl Diver ~Carl Sandburg

They call her a Pearl Diver...and laugh...
Because jewels not often fall into soup or salad.
She washes dishes, arms to elbows in greasy water in a big kitchen.
Outside 400 people are eating, and singers in low gowns are dancing among the tables.
Laughter and music break through the transoms and murmur death-whispers among the battering pans of the big kitchens.
She listens in the crashing tin and iron and porcelain and tries to pick out the fiddle love of the world coming through the transoms.
They call her a Pearl Diver...and laugh...

Did you hear?

Neil Gaiman,

Chirstopher Paolini,

I'm so excited my head just might explode. Oh how I love living in the DC metro area!

I Believe...

“I can believe that things are true and I can believe things that aren’t true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they’re true or not. I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and Marilyn Monroe and the Beatles and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen – I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and I believe that future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone’s ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we’ll all be wiped out by the common cold like the Martians in War of the Worlds. I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind’s destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it’s aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there’s a cat in a box somewhere who’s alive and dead at the same time (although if they don’t ever open the box to feed it it’ll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn’t even know that I’m alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of casual chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn’t done it properly. I believe that anyone claims to know what’s going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman’s right to choose, a baby’s right to live, that while all human life is sacred there’s nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you’re alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it.”

Neil Gaiman, American Gods

Turns out I'm easily distrated....

big surprise there.

Passion

To what extent should passion factor into decisions?

Automaton

Lately I've been thinking about automaton's. They are really quite beautiful. Intricate pieces of machinery woven together; and when in working order, create a being nearly completely self-sufficient. Di Vinci, in 1495, sketched his plans for an automaton that, when built, moved its arms, turned its head, and could sit up all on its own. In 1739 Jacques de Vaucanson built a duck that could eat a grain of wheat, and then defecate. Voltaire is quoted as saying without the duck, there would be nothing to remind you of the glory of France. Automatons have only become more complex and developed. There are robots to sweep and mop your floors; disarm bombs; build cars. It's amazing how much time, energy and expense we are willing to put into these machines.

But are we devoting too much time to these pursuits? Are we becoming a society that is so desirous of the perfect being, that we are willing to loose the relational aspect that makes us human?

I think it can be seen in the things that we have, the stuff that we use. Our iPods, our computers, even our phones. We can check the weather, a baseball score, or who has been kicked off American idol, all with out leaving the comfort of our homes, or our heads for that matter. Perhaps we are inadvertently creating a generation of human automatons through our technological advances; by providing ourselves with technology that allows us to function with little to no assistance from others.

At times I feel a bit like a machine. I'm constantly being fed a stack of information, expected to process and file, and start again; all this with little to no human interaction, just me and my old think pad. But is this how it should be? I don't think God created us in the image of the Defecating Duck. As a matter of fact, I know he didn't. He created us to be in his image; a piece of him.

I'm currently reading Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller. I just finished the chapter entitled Naked. In it, Miller talks about the beginning. About how God created Adam, and had him name all the animals. And the whole time Adam kept looking for a helpmate, but he couldn't find one. And he was lonely. So after he was finished naming the animals, God put him to sleep, and created Eve. Moses sums up this information in two chapters, but Miller speculates that it probably took nearly a hundred years. Adam and Even were over 100 when they had children. This would mean, that for nearly 100 years, Adam searched the planet looking for someone else. Looking for his helpmate. Now, Adam was the first man. The first perfect man. Created in God's image. His DNA and soul, at this point, hadn't been mucked up by sin. So the man that we see wondering the garden with God, and searching for another, is in fact the most concentrated version of God that a human has ever been, (well aside from Jesus). He was what we were to be. And he had a desire, a need for someone else. If Adam was lonely, and needed someone to help him, to help complete him, then why should we expect to be different?

It is a shame that we are striving to live in a self-automated society. We should throw technology to the side, even if only for an hour, and embrace the need for others. I'd much rather be an image of God, then of a defecating duck.

Rock and a hard place.

Today is the end of Session 2. For some reason, in my head, it is the end of session 3. I keep saying it. I almost typed it. I don't know why I think it is the end of sess 3, but I do. Maybe I just want it to be.

I had a minor mental break down the other night. Now I'm left to ponder. I had a really great talk with Lisa last night that left me thinking even more. I feel like I need to schedule a meeting to discuss some of those thoughts. But the implications are a little to big right now, and I don't think I want or could deal with them. I'm not really sure what to do. Something should be done, but I fear that there is only one end result of a conversation like that. And I'm not ready.

All of this is stressing me out, and yesterday i almost had a visceral reaction. That would have been moui unfortuante. The nausia has passed, but now I just have heart burn, and what feels like the start of a could be panic attack. But mainly I'm just full of shit, and I need to suck it up and get over it.

It was my decision; My word. I knew what I was signing up for. I said I would stay, and I will show integrity, and I will stay. Maybe I hsould just find some way to compensate in the off-season. And fine something positive in the summer. I'm finding that hard to do.

I got caught up on two questions yesterday. 1) What do you love about your job? 2) What do you dislike about your job? I couldn't come up with an answer for number one. Not a single thing about the actuall position. Sure there are things about the company, the vision, the people that I enjoy. But those aren't my job. They have virtually nothing to do with my job. So as far as my actuall job is concerned....what do I love?....do I even like my positions?...I could probably come up with some answer about setting up the opportunity for counselors to make an impact in campers lives. But that is really crap. I guess I like some of the analytical thinking that goes along with it. But the answers to number 2 far out way that.

So what do I do?

a long day.
the kind that could end in tears.
the kind that leaves me questioning. questioning everything. my strengths, my skills, my passion.
the kind that leaves me desperate and searching.
searching for what?
searching for god knows what.

i stumbled upon a few websites today.
the kind that make my mind whirl faster, and my heart beat harder.
the kind that shows me a glimpse of what i could be, who i could be, who i want to be.

but i've committed myself.
to one more year at least.
i said i would, and so i will.
but i'm not sure how.

Here's Your Card!

I had a phone call at work today. It went a little something like this:

Janet:Hi Jamie, this is Janet. I'm putting together the church directory. You listed your work number as your primary contact. Are you sure this is the number you want to use? You don't want to use a home number?

Jamie:No, this number is the best way to get ahold of me.

Janet:...Ok...What is Jamie short for?

Jamie:........Jamie.....It's not short for anything.

Janet: Oh?... So....Jamie...is your REAL name?

Jamie:...Yea....

A little drabble

‘Tell me about my mother.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything.’ She said looking up at him.

Her father reached down and scooped her up, into his arms. 'Your mother' he said, 'was like a moon beam. Full of light that could pierce the blackest night. She floated when she walked. Walking on air like she was made of star dust. Her hair was silver, and rippled when she laughed.' he sighed, a a far away look coming over him. 'Her eyes; her eyes sparkled like emeralds.’

Violet closed her eyes and pictured a beautiful beam of light fluttering through the darkness; taking the form of her mother, a smile tugging at her lips.

‘And she loved me?’, she asked looking at him once again.

‘More than anything. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I’d find her standing in your room, just watching you sleep. “I just had to see her”, she would say. “I want my dreams to be filled with wonderful things, and what is more wonderful than my Violet?”

‘Do you miss her?’ she asked, her voice cracking just a little.

‘Always. But not as much when I’m with you.’ He said, kissing the top of her head.

Violet smiled to herself and snuggled deeper into her father's chest.

Say What?

I just had a rather interesting dinner with Mike, Lisa, and Hooker Dan. Here were the highlights of the conversation...

:Mike's unfortunate hair cut, and the incident with the leach.
:Mike and Hooker Dan's explanation of female emotions.
:Lisa attempting to fling balls of paper at Mike and missing horribly.
:Hootchie MaCootchie.
:Not sitting in the dungeon.

And that is all.

Kathy's Song

I'm at work. I suppose that means I should be working. Unfortunately my mind is drifting. Ironically I'm listening to Simon & Garfunkel's song Kathy's Song. They just sang,
My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day
Although my mind isn't lying with anyone, or kissing them when they start their day. It is many miles away. Millions of miles away from Silver Spring, Maryland. It's traipsing up and down the internet, searching every nook and cranny for something. I'm not sure what it's searching for, but I have discovered a few interesting things.

First, Augusten Burroughs has a new book out. A Wolf at the Table: A Memoir. It takes place before Running With Scissors, and documents his relationship with his father. I've been feeling it out on Goodreads. It's in a different light then any of his other works. Much darker, pushing you to the brink time and time again. One reviewer even said "Gone are the sharp one-liners, the exaggerated portraits and the wacky antics. In their place is a chilling and terrifying depiction of a soulless sociopath who can barely contain a murderous rage toward his youngest son and mentally unstable wife. It’s more Stephen King than David Sedaris." It's received mixed reviews; I might ditch work early to go buy a copy.

Second. David Sedaris also has a new book out. This isn't exactly new information. I discovered that a few weeks ago when I wondered into Borders at 9:00 at night after locking my self out of my apartment. It's called When you are Engulfed in Flames. This makes me so excited that I just might poo in my pants. I very nearly bought it on said trip to Borders; but I found Diana Wynne Jones new book House of Many Ways. Of course I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that on the shelf. Nestled safely between the Dalemark Quartet and Howl's Moving Castle. (As expected, it was not the greatest book ever written, but made for a delightful Saturday none the less). So as I was saying, my mind has been wondering down the veins of the internet and stumbled across a When you are Engulfed in Flames give away. So of course I entered. Thus far 100 people have entered for a chance to win 1 of 5 copies. And bonus, if I win, I'd also get a copy of...well I can't remember, but Two for the price of none! Can't beat that!.

The third thing I discovered is the following piece of information. I found it on a Xanga, and they apparently nabbed it from a book. So I'm going to share it here.


If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following.


There would be:
57 Asians
21 Europeans
14 from the Western Hemisphere, both North and South America
8 Africans

52 would be female
48 would be male

70 would be nonwhite
30 would be white

70 would be non-Christian
30 would be Christian

89 would be heterosexual
11 would be homosexual

6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States
80 would live in substandard housing

70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death
1 would be near birth (ready to deliver)
1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
1 would own a computer

"When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for both acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent."Philip M Harter, MD, FACEP Stanford University, School of Medicine

My mind has grasped the significance of these statistics, but my heart is still coping with the ramification and the need. Actually, I hope it doesn't cope. Because that would mean that it has accepted these injustices, and I don't ever want to accept that. I'd rather my heart got off it's fat ass, moved out of the richest County in the nation, and did something meaningful.

Stephen Grellet said
I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore that I can do or any kindness i can show to any fellow human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it for I shall not pass this way again."

But how, what and where?

My computer database for work has decided to run incredibly slow. I've decided to blog.

I've discovered some new artists in a variety of different medium. I think I'll talk about my most recent reads to begin with.

First, Paul Auster. He's an author who's been around for years, but I've just discovered him. I'm nearly finished with one of his more recent novels, Oracle Night. It's a story, about a guy (Sidney Orr), telling the story of when he was younger and wrote a story about a man who wrote a story. Did you follow that? Probably not. It's a little muddled in the book, but in a delightful sort of way. Full of characters questioning the existence of fate, strength of relationships, and human nature. But then again, I haven't finished it yet, so I could be wrong. This is an author whose novels I've ogled every time I've been to Daedalus. It took inner prodding, but I finally convinced myself to pick up a copy (not a tough sell believe me, I'm such a push over!). I've had the novel sitting on my book shelf for well over a month, and finally started to read it on Sunday. I was instantly hooked by his writing style, and on Monday I stopped by Daedalus again and picked up The Brooklyn Follies. Another of his novels. Actually the one that first caught my eye, but I just hadn't bought!

Daedalus is my new addiction. Obsession might be a bit closer to the feeling. I've had to convince myself I can only go there on a bi-weekly basis, and that I'm only allowed to buy a maximum of 2 books per visit. This is mainly because each time I walk in there I find oodles of books that I want, I buy them, and then they sit on my shelf for months as I slowly work my way through the dozens of unread books I already own. I once told myself that I wasn't allowed to purchase another book until I had read all of the books I currently own. I counted the books, estimated how long it would take to read each book, and when I would be finished with my task. I discovered that I wouldn't be able to buy a new book for eight months. I was so depressed that I went to straight to Daedalus and bought four more to cheer myself up. I'm hopeless.

Neil Gaiman is another author I have fallen hopelessly in love with. It's strange, I wouldn't peg myself to be the type that would fall into all that fantasy mumbo-jumbo. Hence the reason I didn't read a single Harry Potter book until I was trapped in uni-bomber hut for eight months. But what do you know! I'm a die hard fantasy fan. Well maybe not die hard, but it is most assuredly killing me softly.

As I was saying, I am hopelessly in love with Neil Gaiman. Thus far I've read Smoke and Mirrors, a collection of some of his short stories. All spooky, all fabulous. The kind of read that makes you look around and say "Hmm, what if...". I also read Neverwhere. An interesting story about the London Underworld. A realm of subways, sewer systems, and magic. Through a series of unforeseen events, mainly helping a homeless women who is bleeding in the street, the main character is excommunicated from his the life as he knows it, and is forced to seek refuge in the "Underworld". Its a very interesting satirical piece on the acceptance of the homeless in London. Not to mention the fact that it is just plain fun to investigate the underbelly of London from the comfort of Columbia, Maryland!

His children's book Coraline, is also set to make it's movie debut sometime this summer. It looks to be a rather exciting time for Gaiman fans. That is of course assuming the plot isn't butchered like that of Stardust: an awful movie, a lovely book.

I should get back to work now. I've been devoting more of my energy on this post, than on my work. Perhaps a continuation is in the future; perhaps not.

I'm fairly certain this is the longest day in the history of the world. I'm positive that scientists could prove the fact that instead of an hour being comprised of 60 minutes, it would be closer to 120. Maybe the world is on the brink of being sucked into a black hole, and as a result time has slowed down. That must be it, because there is no way that I still have three hours of work left. I've been incredibly productive today, aside from the last 15 minutes I've wasted surfing facebook and updating this blog.

And it's Friday. Friday and gorgeous! And all I can think about is leaving here and going to the book store. Even though I just went last week, and I haven't finished the books I bought then, let alone the ones I bought the last six times I went. This is becoming a bit of a compulsion, and i just can't seem to find the strength to resist. But they're so cheap! And I know i won't have time to go this summer, so I'm stocking up now. Which is stupid because I don't have the time to read now, and I don't know why I think I'll have the time to read when the summer finally gets into full swing. Perhaps it's just a pipe dream, but those are always the best.

We're celebrating Cinco De Mayo on Saturday. I realize it actually Tres de Mayo, but we don't have to work on Sunday, and that means I can have more than two Margaritas and that's what I really want.

I'm typing crap, and wasting time. Enough.

lamentations

I've been church hopping for, well the last few years. Partially because I keep moving, and partially because I find myself becoming incredibly disgruntled with the church of today. I can never seem to find one that "fits". I've started to think that perhaps I'm the one that doesn't fit. Or rather, that it is highly unlikely that I'm going to find the perfect church. So I've decided to pick up my search again, looking for the key elements in a church.

I'm not sure of what all those elements are. Certainly theology and doctrine; that is first and foremost. I think I'm also looking for a place with a certain style of worship. And some place that is warm and welcoming. A place where I can actually get involved and grow, rather than feeling stifled and like an outsider.

So this morning was the first of my quest for a church here in Columbia, MD. I discovered a church just a few miles away. It 's your typical contemporary non-denominational evangelical christian church. Full of non-conforming WASPS between the ages of 20 and 40. Looking for that church that isn't their parents church. I've been to them before, and regardless of location or demographic, they undeniable similarities. The choice of music, the service layout, I think even some of the people are exact clones. But this one seems to stand apart from the others.

For the first time in a while, it felt genuine; not like a rock concert. That was nice. And I enjoyed the sermon. The pastor is doing a series on the characteristics of Christ. Focusing each Sunday on a specific characteristic, and how we can embody it. Today he spoke on humility using the passage of Jesus washing the disciples feet as his primary biblical reference.

This is a popular topic in the christian realm. Particularly if you've come from a christian college, like me. The topic was familiar as were most of the bullet points. The reason why Jesus washed the feet. The significance of the action. The likely reaction of the disciples. How we should be willing to humble ourselves. But then he said something that I've never heard before. He said that in order to truly humble ourselves, we have to know who we are, where we came from and where we are going; of course this is in regards to your spiritual life.

This is a truly frightening concept for me. It brings to the surface all of the thoughts I've been struggling with for the past few months. I can see where I am, not that I necessarily like where I currently find myself in my spiritual life, but I think I can be honest enough with myself to say it out loud, although perhaps not in front of anyone. I'm sure I can see where I've come from. I can evaluate my past, and break it into specific moments, measurable instances. I can see where I've come from. But the most frightening is where I'm going. Because I don't know what to say.

Because I'm confused. I have a terrible habit of over analyzing everything. It's one thing when it is political candidate, or a book. But a whole other story when it is my belief system. My biggest fear is being ignorant. And so I've started to sort through my beliefs. Why do I believe in God. Should I believe in God. How can he possibly be real? How can I believe in some one that I've never met. That I've never seen. They lock you up for that kind of thing. They make movies about people who talk to and believe in people who are clearly not there. Hollywood has made millions upon millions of dollars on these diseases. Oprah and Dr Phil have aired hundreds of shows. The general American public sits in their living room and shakes their heads and says, "It's so sad. How could someone possibly believe in something that is clearly not there?" The pharmaceutical companies pump patients full of pills to normalize their brain chemistry. And yet millions of people believe in a god that we've never seen. I just don't under stand. They say that Faith is believing in what you cannot see. But this is what I can't grasp. How can I have faith in something I can't see?

I had a similar discussion with a co-worker. They said that you can't have faith in an object, only in a person. You don't have faith in that a chair will hold you up, but faith in the person that created the chair, to make it sturdy. But I don't. I have faith in the chair. I never think about the person. I don't care about the person. I've never met them, I've never seen them. But I've seen the chair, and I trust that it will hold me. If this is my definition of faith, then does that mean that I have no faith in the god that created this world because I've never met him? But I have faith in the world, because I've seen it move and I've seen it tick?

Ugh, I just don't know what to think. I end up talking myself in circles until I get so frustrated that I think perhaps I'll just be agnostic and worry about the consequences later. That is how I seem to run my life.

This is the most random thing, and it's depressing me just thinking about it. But maybe someone will read this and understand. Maybe they could give some input. Doubtful, but maybe.

NIU Shooting

This was an email I sent to a friend in the beginning of February. She sent me an email, part of which said, "So I am really annoyed with the NIU shooting, when the Virginia Tech one happened it was like the world ended and now the same thing happened somewhere else and it doesn’t seem to be a big deal. I don’t understand!?!?" She was frustrated at the lack of interest at our work place here in Maryland. Here's how I responded. I realize this is random and probably doesn't make much sense, but I'm posting it anyway. Mainly because I don't want to loose it.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s because VA Tech was the first of its kind. Maybe they’re finally going to stop glorifying school shootings in the Media, maybe people don’t know about it yet. VA Tech was a huge thing in Ohio too. I haven’t heard anyone say anything, then again I haven’t seen many people. The church shootings in Colorado weren’t nearly as big as I though they would have been either. Maybe as a society we are just becoming immune to this sort of violence, and we see it as a norm. Regardless of any of those reasons, it is a big deal, and effects thousands of people, and our social conscience should feel it to some sort.

Maybe this is a showing of our moral values spiraling out of control. Maybe soap box preachers are right and everything is coming to an end and it’s starting with the desensitization of our nation. This is an awfully depressing conversation but it’s something that we, and I say that in the group sense, should be wiling to talk about. We, being American citizens, human beings and most importantly Christians. It’s unfair to overlook the angst of fellow Christians, and even more so the lost. Christ never did. He made an effort to reach out to the lost, the woman at the well, the adulterous woman, Zacceous. Were called to live a life like Christ, so why don’t more Christians follow not only the teachings and doctrine of the bible, but the red letters. The words that Christ spoke. To not only uphold his teachings, but to imitate our very creator. If more Christians were able to do this, then we would be able to empathize with the poor and the broken. They would be able to reach more, touch more lives; and theoretically, if we could reach more, reach all, shootings like this wouldn’t happen, and we wouldn’t have to grieve, or be angry that at the lack of grief and civil responsibility.

The Christian nation should be broken over this, the nation should be broken over this; striving to not only answer the "whys", but to find a way stop things like this from ever happening. And since this doesn’t seem like it is going to be an option, then we won’t take responsibility to correct these wrongs. Maybe there is a new need. The need for people like you to put your concerns out there. To make others aware of their short comings, not in a judgmental way, but in a rebuking way. In the way we're called. To point out our faults so help us become who we are supposed to be. To help us pull the log from our own eyes, so we can help pull the logs out of others.

Perhaps this shooting wasn’t the fault of the gun man. Maybe it was much bigger than that, maybe the blame should be put on all of civilization, for failing to reach him. For failing to see his hurt, and his anger, and for failing to help and love. You’re right we should feel bad; we should beat our chests, cover our faces in ashes, and wear our hair shirts. We should feel, because I’m just as much to blame.

Goodness, it has been quite sometime since I've posted anything on this blog. I finally feel obligated to post something new. Unfortunately I have to leave for work in 5 minutes, and I'm no where close to being ready. So I suppose that the witty update will have to wait. Perhaps I'll try my hand at this at lunch time.

afloat

Have you ever wondered how awful it would be to be a bobber. Stuck in the water, cursed to live a life of mediocrity. With the occasional tug under, or out of the water, but never having the ability to do it yourself. A slave to the fish and the fisherman, but not to your own will.

Life feels like that right now. Right this minute. Like all there is to live for is another day of bobbing to the wills of others. The fish and the fisherman. It's lonely being a bobber. Never having the opportunity to meet anyone else; living in either the stream or the tackle box. Only being used when someone wants something from you. Not being allowed to break from the water, and being pulled under time and time again.

We weren't created to be bobbers. Were we? This can't be all that life is about. To be stuck in the stream of life, only to be tugged around by those bigger than us. To be kept out of sight until...until...until what? I don't even know. It feels like it's going to be one of those months. Like September. Hopefully better. It must be better; I have to make it better. i'm done.

oh goodness

i discovered this post in my myspace blog. i don't remember blogging on my space. and i do not remember writing this. but i did, an di tmade me laugh, so i decided to repost it......


Oak Harbor

I'm sitting at home wating for things to happen. It is incredibly boring. I think i need to find something interesting to do for the rest of the week. Maybe I'll go exploring through the swamp lands of northwest ohio. and while i'm out on my adventure i'll find an old shack that's falling down and i'll ignore my conscience and plunge in head first. and while i'm plunging head first i'll crack my skull on something and loose consciousness. and when i come too i'll discover that a turtle-racoon hybrid has nursed me back to health. the turtle-racoon hybrid, whose name is Mr. Hollinsworth, will tell me how his parents used to vacation in the swamp lands in good old oak harbor, and one day while they were doing their dirty cross species deed, a strange looking man dressed in all yellow dumped of a barrel marked, "Hazardous Nuclear Waste Do Not Do The Dirty Cross Species Deed Within 30 Yards Of This Barrel Or You Will Create An Ungodly Spawn That Will Be Neither Turtle Nor Racoon, (That Is Of Course If You Are Turtle Or Racoon), We Mean It, DO NOT DO THE DIRTY CROSS SPECIES DEED!" unfortunatley his parents could not read and they did the dirty cross species deed, and 3 months later out came Mr. Hollinsworth. Mr Hollinsworth would of course personify a human even though the genes do not course through his blood, but it was humans who created the nuclear waste, and therefor created him, and so he would personify all things good. with and incredibly refined taste in art and music and books. And Mr. Hollinsworth would treat my near fatal head wound and spend the next three years nursing me back to health and teaching me to eat, and to speak, and to love all things art and all things art related. and then i would emerge from the Black Swamp, and people would look at me and say "Who is that person? She looks like Jamie, but she vanished three years ago! Could this be her? Did she pull a Fiona Apple? Did she disappear only to remerge stronger and better than ever? Or is she a Jewel? Did she come back to be a sell out and a horrifying girly girl? Oh no! Our puny minds that have not been raised by a turtle-racoon hybrid that was created by it's parents doing the dirty cross speicies deed within 30 yards of a barrel of nuclear waste, can not comprehend this! We will go drown ourselves in the Lake!" AND THEN I WILL RULE THE WORLD!

The moral of the story? why sit at home and be bored, when i can rule the world!

Whose heart is about to explode?
Mine is!
And why?...let me tell you.
For two very exciting reasons.

reason #1.
I got a library card today, and checked out two books. High Fidelity, by Nick Hornby. I love Nick Hornby and the movie was wonderful so I expect great things of the novel. And the second was Possible Side Effects, by Augusten Burroughs. I didn't realize that he had a new book out, so imagine my glee when I saw it sitting on the shelf in the Eaton Public Library.

Now you may be thinking..."Augusten Burroughs, that sounds familiar". Well that's because he is the author of such books as Dry, Magical Thinking, Sellovision, and Running With Scissors. That's right ladies and gentlemen, Running With Scissors. Which brings me to

reason #2.
They are making Running With Scissors into a movie. The movie is based on the book by Burroughs, which is a memoir of his life. His parents divorce when he is a boy and he is raised by his mother's psychiatrist who is, well off his rocker. The unbelievable heart wrenching and sometimes gut wrenching details in the book make it a must read. IMdb has some still shots of the movie up, which has only increased my excitement. They make me think The Royal Tennenbaums meets A series of Unfortunate Events (an R rated version of course). Oh man, I'm excited. My expectations are high, although I'm not sure how they will be able to show all of the scenes in the movie, and they will not be able to express them in the same manor that Burroughs did. Nonetheless. I'M EXCITED. The film comes out later this month. Now I just need to find someone to watch this movie with me. I have a feeling that it needs to be someone with low moral standards but incredibly high movie standards. This is no slapstick comedy here folks. AHHHH! I can't wait!

I'm also in dire anticipation of Stranger than Fiction, and Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. Again two movies that I fear will require a certain type of moviegoer. Too bad I'm not around that kind of person anymore. Perhaps I will just have to get used seeing movies by myself. It makes my heart sad and a little lonely, but that is another story.