Flowers!

For my sister's wedding, we bought roses in bulk and I did all the flower arranging. I had not made a bouquet before, so I watched a lot of how-to youtube videos, and read some articles online. I think I put 40-some roses in her bridal bouquet (a grand feat, I daresay!), and I made small bouquets for the girlies. They loved their flowers, and the bouquets stayed arranged nicely considering the considerable abuse small children are capable of rendering on children.

Life Is an Adventure.

Luke Skywalker bothers me.

Sometimes, in life, we are required to rapidly shift our paradigm. I do not believe that Luke thought, "Oh, I'm going to set in motion a journey today that will radically change the political surface of the galaxy, as well as infuse life into a dying religion and reunite me with my lost twin sister." And yet, that Tatooine morning, he went to buy androids from the Jawas, and the day after, never did get to the Tosche station to pick up those power converters. He didn't need to.

His paradigm shifted.

Welcome to life, Luke.

I could understand giving Luke a reasonable amount of emotional space in which to mourn the death of his aunt and uncle who raised him --- but he doesn't do that. Instead, he spends a quantifiably huge amount of time complaining about how hard his pursuit of Jediism is, and how he "just doesn't understand."

No one understands. Heck, Obi-Wan obviously doesn't understand, either. You don't hear him kvetching incessantly. He's been living a happy little hermit life (let's be honest, hermits have it made), and suddenly some punk kid shows up and roots him out of his comfortable little hut in the golden age of his life. Luke had been obviously angsting up the moisture farm for some time, desiring a radical change, and yet, he is so resistant to that change when it comes.

Perhaps we are all a little like Luke, but you don't see George Lucas making a film about me, either. Yes, life is fluid: in flux (I seriously love that word). As Gandolf puts it, in response to Frodo's lament of "I wish none of this had happened!" (a reasonable exclamation, considering the circumstance): "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Similarly, The Book of the Dead inquired of Lirael (In Garth Nix's novel by her name): "Does the walker choose the path, or the path choose the walker?"

We make choices all the time, but how consciously do we choose how we deal with the choices which are made for us? Perhaps that is the real difference between those who are happy, and those who are --well-- miserable. I'm not sure that there is a middle ground. We pass through times of trial and stress, constantly. We pass through times of happiness and joy, only upon our deliberate choosing.

The Coraline Corollary

I would have to say that I am a fairly functional adult-type. As an adult-type, I:

1.) pay for my own food,
2.) shelter,
3.) clothing,
4.) phone,
5.) transportation,
6.) and school.

Also,

7.) I have a job (I have two jobs).
8.) I do not embarrass myself in public (often. Also, I do not wear sweatpants in public.)
9.) I can carry a delightful conversation about various culturally significant topics of our day, including feminism, Distopian societies, global warming, and online shopping.

So why do I feel like a failure?

1.) The food I pay for is mostly ice cream.
2.) I live in an apartment styled after a college dorm.
3.) I am, as a preservice English teacher, destined to dress like this:





. . . which is one step up from the Renaissance fair. But that's not saying much.

4.) I frequently misplace my phone. Once I misplaced it in the refrigerator.

5.) I have no car,

6.) I have been going to school for a loooooong, long time. I will never escape the vortex.

7.) My jobs are temporary,

8.) I often trip and/or fall without apparent cause except gravity,

and

9.) I know nothing about politics (except that although everyone wants everyone to be happy, no one is).

Poe, The House of Usher, and the American Gothic.

Do you ever get frustrated with holdings at the library? I do. So, when I put this book on hold, I thought, "maybe I'll just buy it on amazon." Then I found that the lowest price was $80.35! I guess not!

Day: ...Today

Scene: Virginia, my sister's townhouse. Specifically, the bathroom.
Time: The morning of the wedding.
Characters:

1. Anika, age: 7. 
2. Tabitha, age: . . .adult. 
3. Me, age: . . .also an adult-type.

Heidi: (Brushing mascara onto her eyelashes)
ENTER Tabitha, stage left.
Tabitha:  Heidi, do you know what lice looks like?
Heidi: Uh.... no, I've never had lice. I think they're really small? Why?
Tabitha: Can you take a look at Anika's hair?
Heidi: (Panic. Also, suppressed laughter.) Yeah, where is she?
Tabitha: She's downstairs. Don't say anything in front of her, I don't want her to freak out.
Heidi: Yeah, yeah. Of course, of course.
They both walk downstairs, and go over to where Anika is sitting.
Heidi: Hey, Anika.
Anika: Hi, Heidi.
They both look at Anika's head, trying not to look suspicious, but also trying to decide what is going on.
Heidi: That might be.
Anika: Might be what?
Heidi: That might be (hestitates) the (slow, getting faster, voice rising with excitement) prettiest girl on the planet!
Anika: (Giggles) Thanks!
Heidi: You're welcome! (To Tabitha) Make sure Mom sees it as soon as she gets back.

Day 2: Pack It Up!

"Oh, my! I'd forgotten how much I hate space travel!"

-C3PO

First, you have to get your life in order: make sure you have airplane appropriate snacks, homework done, tests taken, papers handed in, books read, movies watched, et cetera. Then you have to pack your clothes, pack your shoes, pack your books, pack your makeup, hygenic tools, hair things, and journal, scriptures, netbook, folders, pencil box (Yeah, I've got a pencil box. Yeah, I'm in college. So what?), pack your meds, pack your toothbrush! Did you forget your toothbrush?

Oh, and make sure you don't have any liquids in containers larger than two ounces. Oh, and make sure you have  an airplane appropriate book and/or activity, because you're not going to actually get anything academic done on a plane. It's like riding a bus, but in the sky, and you breath the same air over, and over, and over again for five to seven hours.

So yeah, I hate space travel.

That is all.

Day 1: Ontological Explanations.

This morning, when I was getting ready for the day, I decided not to wear any make up. You know what? I'm still alive, no one said anything, and most likely, no one noticed, either. Why do I wear the stuff?

Come to think of it, there are a lot of things that I do that don't affect the universe, or even the general public's perception of my self. Why do I make my bed? Shave my legs? Wash my dishes? Fold my laundry? Paint my nails?  Buy new clothes? Check the mail? Cross my legs? Sit up straight? Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera?

Oh, yeah. Self respect.