People Around the World

I have no idea how old we were when we wrote this. I'll give you, maybe, 11 and 13. Give or take. (For the record, the verse about Proat was written a while later, while me and Steve were weeding in the back yard.)

People Around the World
By Florence and Stephen McNair

Once a man owned a boat.
Once a man owned a goat.
Then that man scratched his throat,
Because he swam across the moat.
And what a man was he.
Once a girl owned a cat,
Who sat herself upon a mat.
This naughty cat could eat a bat,
And so it did, and then said, “drat!”
And what a cat was he.
In a house lived a boy.
This little boy once owned a toy.
His small toy smiled a tad bit coy,
And so his heart was filled with joy.
And what a boy was he.
Once a girl did own a hat.
Once a girl did own a cat.
This little cat could catch a rat.
She ate the rat and got quite fat.
And what a girl was she.
Once a dog did own a pot.
When on the stove it grew quite hot.
This little pot he liked a lot,
And kept it clean from any grot.
And what a dog was he.
Once a woman married Proat,
And then to K-PAX she did float.
And to her friends on earth she wrote,
Good Proat delivered every note.
And what a Proat was he.

And this seemingly innocent bit of evilness brewed up a little trick on our sister. ALL unintentional, I promise.
Sunny had a poetry site that she sent us the link to, and there was a little button on it that said "Submit a poem for critique" or something. So Steve and I, giving ourselves a clever pseudonym, concocted this poem and sent it (we THOUGHT) to Sunny for critique. We expected something along the lines of patient encouragement, or, and probably more likely, some thinly veiled sarcasm. We got neither. We were sorely disappointed.
UNTIL
We later discovered that this poem went up on Sunny's site as being written by her. She must've sent us the site logged in to her personal password or something, cause there's no way we thought that would happen. Then again, we weren't geniuses either.
So Sunny is having discussions with people about her poetry, and one of them decides to google her and comes up with THIS. And it was pretty nailed onto her, gave her location and full name and everything. Of course our sister, being who she is (a temperant and mild-mannered soul), flew into a frenzy and tried to find out who had written it because it obviously was not her.
And Florence and Steve, the innocent siblings, later learn of the grief it caused her in trying to hunt it down. After we told her it was us, (and to this day I swear that Steve was SCARED, right from the beginning he was ready to be like "BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW! IT'S NOT OUR FAULT!") she calls her husband and like 2 other people saying "OH MY GOD I FOUND OUT WHO IT WAS."
Of course she wouldn't get angry, because she knows we love her, and because we had cute little faces, so she told us to be proud of ourselves cause we successfully pulled a good prank on her. Steve, I think, was far from being proud, he wanted to be absolved of all shame. I was okay, probably because I had two year's worth of brain less than Steve did, and probably didn't grasp how our masterful poem could cause such harm. I was just happy that our poem got famous.

Argh

Mostly in the interests of removing the substance that suspiciously resembles a purple poop (not necessarily SUPPOSED to be one) from jumping at you as soon as you visit.
I am posting this:

http://florencespoetry.blogspot.com/

Enjoy. Or don't. But if you do, go ahead and comment.

I wrestled with the thought of posting it. But as with all things I wrestle, the opposing side won, and the link is posted.
If you don't like me, you'll find a lot in the poetry that is ungodly and unsanitary. If you're going to read anything, let it be the disclaimer in the sidebar. Long-winded, but eloquent in a Florence way.
It's not necessarily going to be frequently updated. I don't write poetry anymore. If you look super closely at the dates, you'll realize that the most recent pieces were probably written over a year ago.
Just as a little math trick; I am 16, it is 2006, so if something is written in, say, 2002, I'm going to go out on a limb and say I probably was 12. So the 03s and 04s are...indicative.
Big smile.

And that's all I have to say about that

I NEED A HUG

So a bra-less me is trying on a shirt in the changing room in Akanoren (There's a sale!!! Big day!!! Lots of customers!!!), and two little demons sweep the curtain open and yell at the top of their lungs "WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU NAKED?"
Typical of my luck, the changing room features an open-air view of the ENTIRE store. Company employees behind the counter get the best look at Florence's bare, bare, BARE body.

The world will end in 40 days.

Misc. Gomi I Found on My Comp

It's amazing the things you can dredge up in folders you forgot existed. Try it sometime. It's a real rewarding experience.




A moving combination of poetry and fine art. An astonishing example of the refined, quality crud Microsoft Paint can turn out.







What girl hasn't done this while they plucked their eyebrows? Yeah, yeah, I know, they just have the delicacy not to take a picture of it, save it on their computer, and post it on their blog.

Gratituous naughty joke: Guys grow hair on their palms, girls...(!)











Pre-renewal Rex the Runt fanart. Some may appreciate. If you get it: you get it. If you don't: don't bother.













Not my creation. She did it herself, but I think it's real romantic, especially the earnest expression.
Take it down if you hate it, aight?









This ISN'T garbage, but I did forget I had it. Flo's genius. PS 7.










Angsty emo despair? Failed bangs? What happens to me when I try the sexy-shampoo-ad-hair-swoosh? Passionate headbanging?

Camera-phobe.
PS abuse.








Dan's groovy photography. My lousy PS. Yes, tacky piercing brushes and all. Pretty funny stuff. How else do we learn right? Haha. Incidentally, the freaky flower is real.







Alright that's enough of that. I love you. Just you.

Yo, haters, this post fulfills the crtieria of FUN, and have-a-good-laugh-at-yourself. Try it! You just might like it!

Sayonara Stuff

Okay, so I'm slow on the draw. I wrote this a few days ago and never posted it. Yay.

Yay, I have my own studio! It's like...exactly the same sort of studio as STEM (omg!) used to have. Except like...without all the equipment. And without STEM (omg!).
Okay. Not funny.
Starting again.
Today I got my first normal hug from STEM (omg!). Not that he hasn't hugged me before. To the contrary, he harrasses me with his hugs on a daily basis. But they're not real hugs. They're like...slimy...perverted hugs. Creepy hugs. This is what he's doing when he's not trying to work his chin hairs onto my neck or carress my "love handles".
But TODAY! I got a nice hug. That's cause he's leaving.
I no longer have the privilege to live with STEM (omg!) anymore. I have no demi-god to make intercession for me. I have become a normal human. When I go to Wordstock (seeing as it's just a matter of time), I won't be able to be the most popular one there because I live with STEM. Now all I am as his stupid sister. Rats.
Lucky Abner and Co. at the HCS. Don't rip him to shreds.
I wish I could write sentimental and loving things about Steve right here, but I can't; he absolutely forbade it before he left. He wanted me to just write "Steve is gone." or "Steve left." But I'm going to try to sneak in as much love as I can into this and post a picture of me and him, locked in a tender embrace, back in the day when I was more famous than he was.
Hmm. I can't find a picture of the days when I was more famous than he was. But there were those days, I promise.
And by the way, I have all his equipment in boxes in the studio. I'm going to start auctioning everything off. Stay tuned.

RIP. My life is henceforth humorless.

I should start counting the times i've been tagged.

I'm okay with this. I like answering abstract questions.

Tell an outstanding memory you have of your parents. WHOA. Got tons of these.
I don't remember how old I was, but it's a very hazy memory, so I must've been pretty young. I was either an MC or an OC, and we were all still sleeping in the classroom up in the big house. One night Dad was talking with someone and I was waiting for him because I was trying to talk with him. I absently started tapping my fingers on the table, and he got a little irritated and gave me a correction because he thought I was being obstinate and tapping in an impatient way to get his attention. Somehow later on he realized that I was just...being spacy and tapping to amuse myself whilst I waited. He felt really bad that he'd gotten angry and took me as rider on milk pick up one night. He bought me an ice cream and we sat in the car and he said he was sorry for getting angry, and asked me to forgive him. Definitely goes into the top ten most awkward and touching moments of my life. But that's just Dad. He's always been so lovable.
When we were really little, Dan and I used to snuggle on freenight with Mom and Dad in their huge bed. We never actually slept there, I remember. But we would talk and tickle eachother or scuffle. Lots of fun. Wish we'd all still fit.
Dad has been such a wonderful sample to me. He stuck through thick and thin, got some pretty rough corrections and really tried to change. We had a few rough years with teens, but he always plowed through with wisdom and temperance, Spent a bit of this past year going out witnessing with him and realizing how talented he is. I've taken him for granted for so many years.
As a child, did you have a fear of something in particular such as nighttime, water, dogs, etc? Fear of dark...for a little while. Just cause walking through the trees behind our house at night is...a little spooky. Scared of dogs and always will be. Scared of sharks. Scared of centipedes. Scared of walking through the house at night and crunching a cockroach beneath a bare foot.
Where's your favorite place to be kissed, besides the obvious? My lips. What, I'm sorry...what's the obvious?
What's the earliest childhood memory you have? Swimming in kid's pools, those blow up thingers, at Nagoya school. There were like 3 of them to accomodate all of us toddlers, under a window awning. Just one little slide of a memory.
Where and when were you born? Give an interesting fact about your childhood along with it. '89, in Hachioji, Tokyo (Japan. No way, really?)
Interesting fact about my childhood...interesting fact about my childhood...
I spent the first ten days of my life in a walk in closet in the midwife's cause we couldn't go home cause the home had chicken pox. Nice huh. Grande entrada en un mundo de cosas excitantes.
Would you walk around town completely stark naked for $25,000? Wow. What an open door of supply. Can I pass out posters too?
If you had the power to exterminate any type of music, what would you eliminate? Why? Cheesy R&B and rap music. The junky stuff. (There's very little that's GOOD in that genre, anyway. Feel free to flame me.)
What movie last brought tears to your eyes and really touched you? Why? Tears...? Can we just skip over that part? I don't remember the last time I cried during a movie. WAIT: it might have been The Wizard of Oz, when I was like...4. But no, I was probably too terrified to cry. The last movie that really touched me was Mother Teresa. We watched it a month or two ago. It really made me feel like doing something for the Lord.
When reading the Word, do you absorb more when reading, listening, or both? Reading.
What is a quality that you feel is important in a friend, and who is someone you see this quality in? Making others feel important, putting others' skills above your own. Like the Every Day Fruits.
What's your favorite type of sport or other outdoor activity? Heh. Soccer in the rain / mud. As long as I'm on defense and I have a handsome goalie with whom to flirt. And...my team is taking care of stuff on the other end of the field.
What's your favorite dessert? Mmmmmmm. Cheese cake. Chewy cookies. Tarts with tons and tons of yummy nuts. Banana cream pie. Annin dofu. Expensive yogurt. Tapioca pudding. Bounty bars. FATTEEEENNNINNNGG. Oh. And apple pie. Hang it, almost any kind of pie. I don't actually like desserty stuff much. I much prefer ordinary yummy food.
Name three good qualities belonging to the person to your immediate right. ...I have a trash can to my immediate right. Mom is on my left, but HA, she just barely missed getting appreciated.
If you had been the first person on the moon, what would you have said as you stepped onto the surface? Why the hell am I here? Why am I alive? What do I care about the moon for? Sweet swirling onion rings, I'm going home.
Where in the world have you always wanted to visit? The States.
What three famous living people would you like to witness to, and why? Russel Crowe, because he looks sad. Masako...for so many reasons. Randall Wallace, just BECAUSE.
What's your favorite joke? Oh noooo...I can't post this on my blog!!!
Who is someone in Heaven you would like to spend a day with, in the flesh, if it were possible? And what would you do together? Elvis. We'd write songs. And flirt.
What's your favorite aspect of the Christmas season? Being warm and comfy. Falling asleep with Christmas lights dancing over everything. Eating yummy food. Being busy.
What's your idea of a fun party, or something you like to do to relax and chill? Get together with the EVDF and write a theme song. Talk with musicians. Do stupid things with a few of my best friends. Have Word time with boys. Eh heh.
If you had to go to any (other) mission field, where would you go? And why? Nowhere. Japan. Alright. Kanto. You can't make me move.
What is something in your life (not a person, but a thing) that if gone tomorrow forever you would really miss, and why? ...can't think of much. Computers, maybe. My larynx? I don't know.

TAG: Niki (I apologize in advance.)

Artiste

I am not an artist.
I just bludgeoned a fleeting thought of comparing with these talented individuals. When I look at their new art I always say something like "WHAT? Hello!!! Um!!! Excuse me!!! Why!!! How!!! Ahhhh!!!" And then people think I've read some bad news or something.
I'm going to top them.
Here is my idea of a beautiful and tasty eyeful.
Yaaaaaamyyy!
And I've named him Edgar. He is mine and he is my Edgar.
(In other news, he's a little too orange and a little too perfect to have been mashed and put through the fire. Also, Florence is not a good artist. So here you have a croissant that is imperfect in his perfection. Poor guy.)
And OH OH! I only used four color pencils! Take that!

BEST VIEWED AT A DISTANCE

WAIT WAIT WAIT! Person of the day!
This fella.
He certainly has seen some of the oddest portions of me. He had to marry me in a skit and endure my shameless flirtation for, what's it been, several years now. He had to endure my bitter teasing of him and his holy FD status. God forgive me, a sinner.
I don't think I've ever told him how much he impresses me. Just because he doesn't say things out of line. When he opens his mouth its usually to say something worth opening your mouth to say. And that hits me...cause that's hard to do!
He's also faithful to return my jokes, even when they're not in the best taste or get to be kind of irritating or over the top.
And so far he's never indicated that he's sick of me, even though I'm sure he must be.
Much love.

The Draft that went Mad

Being right is overrated.
Being wrong is overrated.
You can be wrong or you can be right. One of you is intelligent and the other is misinformed, one of you is self-righteous and the other is misled,
But you're both BLEEPs.

Be nice please.




(YO FLO. It's kinda sneaky and neat how I can peek at your drafts. Maybe even publish your half-birthed thoughts...oohoo, what an idea! Anyway. Dunno if this was even intended to be a post or not, but it strikes me as right on.
BAsically, being right or being wrong isn't as important as how you air your arguments, because the latter is voluntary, the first is incidental.
Is that it? I like it. It's true.
I love ya.)


Naw, to be honest, El, I'm getting a little too safe to post passionate posts of rage, like I used to try to before. This was just something I needed to write down somewhere.
I figured it would be just like old times for you to see it eventually and send me a reprimanding e-mail about it. Half-birthed and aborted thoughts, darn right.
HAHAHAHA...I just thought of something super clever!!! Now I'm going to post this!!!
Maybe I should link "you're both BLEEPs" to BLEEEEEP's blog. HA wouldn't that be equivalent to burning a small village. I don't think I've ever been THAT confrontational.

OH AND BY THE WAY, if you ever actually do publish this post, I advise that you copy and paste it into another. That way it wouldn't get lost among the mire of posts that are more recent than it. (Just thought I'd save you five minutes of realizing and fixing.)

(By golly, you are a genius. Now behold how I have cleverly color coded this post and thoughtfully censored everything unsavory. Blue is you and black is me, by the by.
Which reminds me, I cannot tell you how many people I have talked to who have given me kudos about some post that wasn't mine, or praised you when the love should have been MINE all MINE. OH WEEPING AND GNASHING OF CROOKD' TEETH!!!!!
Anyhow. Something tells me that the names at the bottom of the posts aren't effective. Mostly because our readers aren't paying attention. Put our names in the titles? That just sounds ugly, man. Any nifty ideas? I'm out.)


People say we write the same. I don't think so. I think there are obvious differences between you and I. You are obviously the superior one, and if there are any similarities between us it's cause I think you're so clever that I try to copy you. Yes, I am that pathetic.
I guess it might be kind of hard to tell us apart.
People complimented a post of mine? Oh, do tell! Do tell! All I ever get is condemned for ungodly posts and corrected for posts that are a "waste of time". Have I really written one worthy post in my entire life? If so, I will die happy. (Ha, ha, no worries...I don't intend to die RIGHT after you tell me. I'll give it a few years and see how things pan out for me.)
And if you ever do decide to publish this post, take out that clause about wanting to hear appreciation for my posts. It'll sound like I'm fishing. Disgusting.


(!!INCREDIFISH!! No, I won't take it out. Why wouldn't someone want to hear a nice thing someone said about them? Fishing?!! Preposterous! And anyone who thinks otherwise can take their man, their boy AND their donkey and stick them somewhere safe and warm where the sun doesn't often get a chance to share its rays.
Ooooh....also! Also! Remember the song and person of the day thing we had going a while back? Couldn'tcha mouth-to-mouth some life back into it? It sure was fun.
Alrighty, I'm gunna go do that Praise Time Activity you singled me out and tagged me with.
Now then. I TAG you to go take a walk on the seawall and breathe the salt air that I should've brought here with me in balloons. I tag you to appreciate. PoW! Take that, you!)

(That's it. I'm posting this before it gets anymore unwieldy. The End. Start another one sometime wont you please?)

something I wrote on the seawall

Sitting out here
On the seawall
With a pink pencil.
Pencil crayon.
Color pencil.
Whatever.

Still wearing my apron. Didn't notice until now. Cooked lunch and dinner. Finished early and spent a while frying different kinds of fish at different temperatures for different lengths of time. Hey, if you're going to be a cook, might as well learn to be a good one.
I feel different. I'm wearing an apron for the better part of the day now. I take bike rides to the veggie store and buy groceries for the home. Just today the old man gave me omake, and I stared at him wondering how in the world I'd become one of his regular customers.
My hair is a wreck now. It used to be nice and tidy by the end of the day. I also used to read in bed past midnight. Now I fall asleep.

I've been thinking...
Before Rick left he asked me where I wanted to go, what my ideal situation would be. I told him I honestly wanted to go to the PC because it seemed like a place where I'd be truly fulfilled. He laughed and reworded the question to "if the Lord's will didn't count." I told him I wouldn't be able to answer that question because my dream is to serve the Lord and be content and happy doing so...and so my life would be kind of meaningless without the "Lord's will" clause. He laughed at me and said I was strange. Told me I was 16, I needed to have fun. I sounded weird.
There are other places. I'd like to live with my friends...or in a home where they do a lot of fun things. There are places. But when I visit those places or think about living in those places, I get a funny feeling. Almost like fear. Like this, empty sort of feeling that I get when I ponder some question I can't answer, like falling into a black hole.
The way I see it, there are two different kinds of fun, and the one sort of fun is ultimately funner than the other, because it involves a lasting, fulfilled contentment. It's the sort of fun you find when you've been pursuing Jesus' highest will, and carrying Him so close to you that He's all you need...all you want. And then you're happy even if He's all you have. Which is what happens...inevitably.
Lasting happiness.
The other sort of fun is grasping at things. Burning the candle at both ends. Burning up. Burning. Trying to make fun. Trying to find fun. The universe always runs out of fun, after a while. And then what?
Walking so far with a candle...and the candle goes out...and you've left the light behind.

Mom asked me today what I would do if we decided not to move to the PC; if it fell through. I told her honestly that I wouldn't mind...wherever we went. As long as we were in the Lord's will. I honestly believe that for the first time in my life. I would go anywhere right now.

It's the wonderful cycle of obedience. It's scary, though. There was a long time where I was weighing in the balances what and why and how. And then I stepped into the dark...and you wander around a bit. And you wonder if it's real; if they're really out there--the blessings of obedience. And you take things in big swallows, big breaths. Everything is so big--every day is like a month--every change is a leap into a new world--everything that doesn't change is a drudgery that lasts forever.
And then somewhere, sometime, the Lord lifted me up. After many breakings, many failures, many tiring episodes of pride, of condemnation, of fear, of discouragement...
It's not as if the Lord gave me a better life. I think, the gift he gave me was what I found when I was struggling for those first few months after giving him a try. He helped me realize that I can make it, that the victory is there for anyone. I learned how to fight proactively--how to hang on to Him--how not to let myself slip.
And then the cycle of blessings just keeps on keeping on. As I obey, the more I want to obey. As I submit myself to the Lord, the more I want to submit myself. As I love, the more I want to love.
I haven't written something this long in a looong time. My wrist hurts.

Praise Time, Praise Time, Time to Praise the Lord!

Things that make me really happy...off the top of my head:

Silky, just-shampooed hair.
Snazzy preggy clothes from Ry and Fay.
Having a big butt for only the second time in my life.
Downy.
Making the tods laugh.
Crispy clean sheets and pillowcases.
My fetus' pokes and prods and somersaults.
Good food at the end of the day.
The sound of running water.
Living with my sister.
Anticipation.
Rereading oldy moldy prophecy and quote-books.
Getting a joke.
Girding up one's loins. Figuratively.
Naked people.
Painfully dorky plays on words.
Salty plums.
Finding things.
Kicking a bad habit or addiction in the nether regions.
Trance. Trance. Trance. Trance. Make more trance, Steve.
Stretching.
Seeing that Flo has added to our Darwinian draft.
The post-PnP feeling. Don't think I need to expound. Or can, even.
Quiet.
Subway on freeday.
When something you've read in the Word a hundred times reaches out and flicks you in the center of the forehead. I like it.
Cold, fresh tomatoes.
Undeserved notes and gestures of appreciation.
Tempura soba.
Big, thick, blank notebooks.
Forgetting and remembering and savoring something wonderful.
Perfectly ripe bananas. Oh shut up.
Seeing others talk or write about how much they love Jesus.
LOUD music that makes you move when you don't mean to.
Wasabi.
e.e.cummings.
Someone saying what I tried to say, but saying it better.
A working computer.
Let's Talk About Jesus. The ML.
Lemon Tea.
Open spaces.
Realizing that anything which makes you happy in the right way is a little present from Him.

The Cycle of Decadence / The Opiate of Society

In addition to the grave political situation in the world today, we are witnessing the emergence of a wholly new situation, a crisis of unknown nature, one completely different, one entirely non-political. We're approaching a major turning point in world history, in the history of civilization. It can be seen in various areas by various specialists. I could compare it only with the turning point from the Middle Ages to the Modern Era, a whole shift of civilizations. It is a turning point at which settled concepts suddenly become hazy, lose their precise contours, at which our familiar and commonly used words lose their meaning, become empty shells, at which methods have been reliable for many centuries no longer work. It's the sort of turning point at which the hierarchy of values to which we are dedicated all our lives, which we use to judge what is valuable and what is not, and which causes our lives and hearts to beat, is starting to waver and may perhaps collapse.
And these two crises: the political crisis of today's world and the oncoming spiritual crisis, are ocurring at the same time. it is our generation that will have to confront them.
--Alexander Solzhenitsyn, 1975

Five basic reasons for the fall of the Roman civilization are listed by Cardinal Gibbons: [1] the undermining of the home, which is the basis for human society; [2] higher and higher taxes; the spending of public money for free bread and circuses for the populace; [3] the mad craze for pleasure; sports becoming every year more exciting, more brutal, more immoral; [4] the building of great armaments when the real enemy was within...the decay of individual responsibility; [5] the decline of religion; faith fading into mere form, losing touch with life, losing power to guide the people.
--The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

She comes and whispers that she's here
I watch the curtains sway with morning
Close your eyes and you will hear
The mice and men to her are calling

I drink her in again my bottle full of dreams
Every man's desire and queen she
Tucks me in beneath her heavy sheets in
Layers of gray
And kisses all my breath away

Sleep on son of man
The wind to you speaks
The skies are dimming and the pain is weak
Keep on dreaming
In my dreams I'm always free
When the Night Light shines her opiate on me.

Contented in my loneliness
I have been too long in slumber
Enchanted by her sweet carress
I have been too far and under

She is the earth, she is the pain, she is the cure
She is the cycle of my sanity
I've never lived without her cords inside electrocuting me
Is there any life outside of her?

Sleep on, son of man
The wind to you speaks
The skies are dimming and the pain is weak
Keep on dreaming,
In my dreams I'm always free
When the Night Light shines her opiate on me.
-(c) 2006 Florence McNair "Night Light"

Praise time Activity

Things that make me really happy:

Bean sprouts.
Personal witnessing.
Getting a sweet correction from an adult who loves me.
Getting an out-of-the-blue e-mail of love and "I don't know why I'm writing you, but I felt like it."
Root Beer.
Getting comments from Garfunkel. (grin)
Getting disappointed, and sailing on a happy high after hearing from the Lord.
The anticipation of watching our moving date get closer and closer. (Further, too, but always more "closer" than "further", if you catch my drift.) Wouldn't have it any other way.
Finding people who let me show them my new songs. Priceless people, them.
Being busy.
Recording vocals for something. Anything. Anybody got a Feed My Lambs project? My e-mail address is in my profile. (smirk)
Joking around with Steve.
Flipping a cake out of the pan and onto the rack and seeing that, hey, it actually looks edible.
Coming to the end of the day and realizing that I've managed to stay awake all day. Quality day, that.
Drinking tons and tons of water after working out. (this one is one of those extremist things that I take off and do all the way when I feel like it)
Doing a HUGE cleaning job, where I haul everything away and scrub the surfaces. (another one of the extremist things. My domains are usually diasasters until this inspiration strikes.)
Getting comments on my blog from people whose blogs I enjoy, whose music I love, whom I've heard about, who I miss, whose opinions I value, and everybody else.
Heavy, heavy blankets in the middle of winter.
Writing songs with talented songwriters. Or just about anyone, for that matter.
Whipped cream.
Brevity.
Going to the movie rental store and finding the movie I'm looking for right away, no complications, coming home, watching it, having it be a nice edifying movie that everyone enjoys. Wonderful feeling of easy fulfilment.
Yogurt.
Getting kisses from Mommy and hearing her say stuff like, "You're my sweet little girl. I waited through 4 boys for you, I was so happy when you came." Usually followed by, "I remember when we used to put your hair in pony tails and dress you up..."
Objectivity.
Coffee.
Humble, meek (bordering on needlessly apologetic), forgiving, kind responses to harsh, self-righteous, angsty accusations.
Sitting next to someone who has their arms wrapped around you.
Talking with someone about ideas. Someone who makes you feel like your ideas are worth something.
Finishing a long algebra problem and getting it right. YAY.
Writing little pieces on the piano. (And googling Italian words to give them names. Heh heh.)
Getting long e-mails from my sister.
Raising my hand and having people notice and get quiet. (Makes me so happy I usually forget what I was going to say.)
Having Steve say "I don't hate your songs, okay! They're just not my style! But out of your sick ballad style, your songs are the best." High praise. Fuzzy feeling. Usually followed by, "But what do I know, I don't listen to your sort of sick ballad music."
Completing a crossword puzzle.
Being sick and having Mom bring me yummy food. (Doesn't happen often.)
Secretly being awake when Mom and Dad think you're asleep, and listening to them being quiet for my sake. (My little brother Dan, on the other hand, has been weighed in the balances and found wanting.)
Getting a letter in the mail. Whoa, happens like, twice a year. It's like Christmas.
Sitting in front of the heater in Wintertime, looking up at the Christmas tree and singing "Oh Holy Night" or "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."
Helping someone with their Language Arts. Teaching them nifty grammar rules.
Hearing adults say nice things about me.
Finishing a song and being happy with it. (Doesn't happen often.)
Sloppy Joes.
Hugs that last for a long time.

Aaaaaand I tagggggg...ELAINA! Pow, take that.

Hey, deep-end-of-brain. Long time no access.

There was a time when I used to sign in to blogger and open this "create" window and fill this white window with random words. Words from the heart/mind of a teenager, words that weren't necessarily godly, words that weren't necessarily important or worth the time taken to write or read. Just words.
Now, even though I've gained things like discretion, moderation, a purpose for my posts, a little more objectivity, I cannot help but lament my lack of inspiration. Even though it does seem like a fair trade, all these things at the expense of my spontaneity...
I was reading my old posts and laughing at the things I said. Some of the things I make a point to not say now; some things that are too true to be taken lightly, or too proud to be aired, or too ignorant to be funny.

I wonder why it feels wrong to really turn every word over and over in my head before I put it down.
I wonder why, when I linger over the "publish" button, I feel like I'm going to regret posting this tomorrow. Random, sporatic, direction-less, meandering thoughts.

I think it's because I want very badly to be simple and focused. I have found a goal for myself, and I want to keep it where it's clear and untarnished. I don't want to frolic inside my mind like I used to; like not playing in the kitchen cause you might knock over the hot pot or cut yourself with something sharp. I don't want to be distracted.
Maybe that's why blogs shouldn't be taken lightly. They give you a warped view of life. They meddle with your priorities. Is it more important to be creative, diverse, emotional, poetic, prolific?...or simple, content, focused, realistic, decided?

I guess both things are nice. There is moderation, and then there is sacrifice. And I've chosen to live my life in such a way that You grow brighter, and that I fade away...

UPDATE: I realized this post is kind of ambiguous.
I actually wrote this post in the sequence that I thought it, so my thoughts may have been kind of disjointed and hard to follow.
I just wanted to say that I don't mean to be Self Righteous when I say I'm going to try to keep a godly blog. I know there are lots of other blogs out there plenty godly enough, and I hate to keep bringing up this "godly blog" topic again.
It's just that I got a few comments from people who were saying that my writing style changed, and that I seemed to be posting a lot of Word things lately, and asked where my "funny stupid Florence posts" had gone.
I really honestly miss those posts too. But I had to tell those people, and you, that even though I loved writing fun posts just about my day or my thoughts, the Lord has requested something MORE of me. He specifically asked me to make this blog a sacrifice of my simple love for Him, and that's what I'm trying to do.
So basically, I really appreciate you if you, like the first anonymous commenter, have enjoyed my blog for so long. But I just want to warn you that this is not a "phase" of boring posts. With the Lords' help, I'd like to make this blog as simple and dedicated as possible.
I definitely don't think that's the way all blogs should be. I'm not trying to make a statement about how my blog is the godliest. In the SS about blogs the Lord specifically said that every blog will be different, and every blogger will have a singular way of expressing their devotion and discipleship. I think that's cool. And to the many bloggers who can be funny and godly at the same time, GBY, I'm going to try to copy your style! Heehee.
YAY. That's all.

Titus is a neat name.

Speak evil of no man...be no brawlers, but gentle, shewing all meekness unto all men.
For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another.
But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared,
Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;
Which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Saviour;
That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.
This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works. These things are good and profitable unto men.
-The Holy Bible, Titus 3:2-8

Speak evil of no man + Don't brawl (argue) + Be gentle + Show meekness unto all men = the way to escape that yucky thing we call Self Righteousness.

a small something to tickle you

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
--Robert Frost

Where Florence Talks About Veins

I tried to find a picture to accurately describe my experience. All I found on google were these pleasant photos of happy nurses and happy people looking happy to be poked with a giant needle. We all know this is not what it's really like. What's up with this censorship? What do they have to hide?

I have my theories.

So I went in for a blood test yesterday evening. What happened, to make a long and tedious story short, is I was punctured 6 bloody times in my arm, my arm, my hand, my arm, my hand, and my hand. Until FINALLY they drew some of the liquid out of me. Like "oh fewf, I'm alive!"
It's like, hello, I graze my knee and I get this blood stuff that appears no problem. Why, when I'm actually wanting blood, does it not surface? Where does this stuff hide?

According to the officials, I have thin veins that dive deep deep in and jump around when being prodded by a needle. Personally I think my veins have served me no problem thus far, and this is the first time I've had any complaints. TYJ for my veins.
I just have little tell-tale holes everywhere. I hope I don't start leaking.

Follow up

In the wake of my last post, which by the way, most people failed to notice was not exclusively about Justin Spirit, I received a lot of strange e-mails, as I do with almost every post nowadays.
One anonymous person wrote me to say, "I know Justin Spirit personally, and I take offense to your making fun of him on your blog. Please take down the picture, because I have it on good authority that he would not appreciate it." Amongst a host of depricating comments that endeavored to slander my love, wisdom, and christianity, that actually have absolutely nothing to do with my posting of the picture in the first place.
Being as I do not know Justin Spirit "personally", I was a little daunted by this e-mail at first, until I realized that the formerly quoted person probably, in their haste to do godly things, was not able to waste their time actually READING my blog post, which (Niki offered:) "Actually makes it sound like I'm obsessed with him as opposed to making fun of him."
Great. Just the way I like it.

Actually, I've never really been the kind of person to exhibit obsession for the ordinary sort of people we've come to call "Family celebrities". (Sure, I posted a long diatribe about my teenage crush Mr. Miguel...but that's...different.)
I really honestly do not have the guts to walk up to someone well-known or popular and say stuff like "Yo, you're that singer right? Yo. Word, dude. Can you sign my notebook?"

I don't know why. I just don't feel like that'd be a classy way to hit it off with someone.

I don't think any of the musicians in the Family actually ENJOY being famous, or tout their celebrity title anyplace. I don't think it really grates on their nerves or anything, because it's really just too much of a stupid thing to let it get to you. But that's exactly it, it makes you feel stupid. So you walk up to someone and say "Ahhh oh my god! Like, you're STEM's SISTER!" and it makes them feel STUPID. Like, "Yeah. He was a demigod since birth. I'm so lucky to be related to him."

Basically, I don't know what this post is getting at. Maybe I'll take this opportunity to reunite Justin Spirit's head with his body. No hard feelings. *kaching! Big smile!*

And I have come to the conclusion that the reason why I like SOE is because the songs are written so damn brilliantly. That is the long and short of it.