Friday, August 17, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
12
twelve drummers drumming
twelve tribes of Israel
twelve disciples
twelve months in a year
Twelve-spotted skimmer
twelve numbers on a clock
Ocean's Twelve
twelve inches in a foot
the twelth Ghenov
Twelve O'Clock High
Senior year soccer number: 12
12 days til my wedding!
twelve tribes of Israel
twelve disciples
twelve months in a year
Twelve-spotted skimmer
twelve numbers on a clock
Ocean's Twelve
twelve inches in a foot
the twelth Ghenov
Twelve O'Clock High
Senior year soccer number: 12
12 days til my wedding!
The Bourne Ultimatum Non-Movie Review
When I grow up I want to be a real blogger. Real bloggers write movie reviews. They discuss character development and cinematography; they say cool words like "sepiatone"; they pay close attention to the soundtrack of a movie and very little attention to special effects. So when I grow up I definitely want to be a real-life, genuine, authentic, bonafide blogger.
But for now, I just want to be Jason Bourne. He's so cool. Trained but humble; devoted but personal; good but somehow dangerous. On a mission. On the relentless pursuit of things like identity and truth. Equipped for his journey. Definitely on a journey. Unapologetically on a journey. But not content with just journeying. Purposeful. On the relentless pursuit of his destination. Protecting those who are trying to kill him. Escaping the fate that someone else designed for him. Confused, but traveling. Dangerous yet somehow good. Understanding that the things that have happened to him have shaped who he is. Fighting his way out of the prison of his past. Not just a thinker. Not just a warrior. Not a bully. Not a pushover. Not a know it all. Not an idiot. Somewhere in between. Knowing that truth exists and that little is more important that truth. Understanding that truth is mysteriously tied to identity. Fighting for his freedom. Fighting for the freedom of others. Placing himself in danger, fighting for the freedom of his enemies. When I grow up I want to be Jason Bourne.
But for now, I just want to be Jason Bourne. He's so cool. Trained but humble; devoted but personal; good but somehow dangerous. On a mission. On the relentless pursuit of things like identity and truth. Equipped for his journey. Definitely on a journey. Unapologetically on a journey. But not content with just journeying. Purposeful. On the relentless pursuit of his destination. Protecting those who are trying to kill him. Escaping the fate that someone else designed for him. Confused, but traveling. Dangerous yet somehow good. Understanding that the things that have happened to him have shaped who he is. Fighting his way out of the prison of his past. Not just a thinker. Not just a warrior. Not a bully. Not a pushover. Not a know it all. Not an idiot. Somewhere in between. Knowing that truth exists and that little is more important that truth. Understanding that truth is mysteriously tied to identity. Fighting for his freedom. Fighting for the freedom of others. Placing himself in danger, fighting for the freedom of his enemies. When I grow up I want to be Jason Bourne.
Friday, August 03, 2007
fifteen days until my wedding!
The God who holds the depths of the waters in the hollow of his hands. The God whom lighting bolts stand at attention just waiting for His commands. The God whom the wild ox obeys. The God who measures the universe with his hand. The God Almighty, Most Holy, Sovereign, Gracious, and the Only God has graciously blessed me and changed my entire life with the love and devotion of a beautiful daughter of His.
Everything changes in just fifteen days.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
underrated
I am about to waste your time with a blog entry about the pineapple. I assure you there is no higher meaning, no deep illustration to a bigger concept, this is strictly about the pineapple.
In one word. Underrated. It is so good though. But it's just never gotten the credit that it's due. Please don't get on your high horse [by the way, what does that even mean? Americans say some weird things, sorry for the rabbit trail] and try to argue that other fruits are more underrated. I don't want to hear about the kiwi or the coconut. I am not saying those aren't underrated. I am not even saying that the pineapple is the most underrated. It's a simple comment. The pineapple is underrated.
The apple gets a lot of hype. No one knows what Adam and Eve bit into, but the apple snuck in there and stole the credit. Thousands of years later, William Tell brought it back into the spotlight by shooting arrows at it. And somehow and in some inexplicable manner, the apple has snuck into the very fiber of corporate America and got a computer named after itself. There is no end to this. It needs to stop. And don't get me started on the orange. The orange gets so much glory. It dominates the world of juice. It dominated the media and the biggest courtroom of the 20th Century when a Heisman Award winner fled in a little white Bronco. And don't get me started on how it hogs all of the knock knock jokes. Syracuse! I will get you for this!
It is not all bad though. The pineapple is actually huge in Europe.
In one word. Underrated. It is so good though. But it's just never gotten the credit that it's due. Please don't get on your high horse [by the way, what does that even mean? Americans say some weird things, sorry for the rabbit trail] and try to argue that other fruits are more underrated. I don't want to hear about the kiwi or the coconut. I am not saying those aren't underrated. I am not even saying that the pineapple is the most underrated. It's a simple comment. The pineapple is underrated.
The apple gets a lot of hype. No one knows what Adam and Eve bit into, but the apple snuck in there and stole the credit. Thousands of years later, William Tell brought it back into the spotlight by shooting arrows at it. And somehow and in some inexplicable manner, the apple has snuck into the very fiber of corporate America and got a computer named after itself. There is no end to this. It needs to stop. And don't get me started on the orange. The orange gets so much glory. It dominates the world of juice. It dominated the media and the biggest courtroom of the 20th Century when a Heisman Award winner fled in a little white Bronco. And don't get me started on how it hogs all of the knock knock jokes. Syracuse! I will get you for this!
It is not all bad though. The pineapple is actually huge in Europe.
Monday, July 23, 2007
the dirty dirty
I'm worried about Atlanta. The ATL. Hotlanta. The dirty dirty. the Home of the Falcons. Michael Vick. It's always hard for me to feel bad for a millionaire who makes his money doing something that fourth graders dream of doing for free. Little kids everywhere in Georgia backyards, grab their neon orange Nerf footballs, pretend to take a snap from the center (only football geeks know his actual name), and after the pretend snap each little boy is no longer himself. He is now Michael Vick. Scrambling, making invisible opposing tacklers miss, throwing deep touchdowns to win Super Bowls.
I'm worried about the quarterback. Michael Vick's alma mater is no longer known for its football. It's now known for its dead. And Mike. Dogfighting? I know. Stupid mistake. He shouldn't have done it. But I'm worried about Atlanta.
It's a color thing. Atlanta has a large black population. Rich businessmen. Not white ones. Black. Well-off. It's a growing city. But the most visible and popular citizen messed up. Pretty big. Jail time big. And he is black.
Heart wrenching. It's unfortunate and it's the south. If Atlanta's quarterback and most visible athlete was white, it'd be different. But he isn't. America sees color. Our television commercials don't tells us that. Our penitentiaries do.
Somewhere, someone just turned to the guy next to him and said, 'See I told you. they're all like that.' His friend just chuckled in agreement. Every juke, every scramble, every completion, every yard, every sportscenter highlight forgotten. Every stereotype remembered.
May be I don't express it well. May be I am not eloquent enough. May be I tried to be too eloquent and messed up. I don't condone what Michael Vick did. I can't condone what Michael Vick did. I just know that it would be different if he wasn't black. I'm just worried about Atlanta.
I'm worried about the quarterback. Michael Vick's alma mater is no longer known for its football. It's now known for its dead. And Mike. Dogfighting? I know. Stupid mistake. He shouldn't have done it. But I'm worried about Atlanta.
It's a color thing. Atlanta has a large black population. Rich businessmen. Not white ones. Black. Well-off. It's a growing city. But the most visible and popular citizen messed up. Pretty big. Jail time big. And he is black.
Heart wrenching. It's unfortunate and it's the south. If Atlanta's quarterback and most visible athlete was white, it'd be different. But he isn't. America sees color. Our television commercials don't tells us that. Our penitentiaries do.
Somewhere, someone just turned to the guy next to him and said, 'See I told you. they're all like that.' His friend just chuckled in agreement. Every juke, every scramble, every completion, every yard, every sportscenter highlight forgotten. Every stereotype remembered.
May be I don't express it well. May be I am not eloquent enough. May be I tried to be too eloquent and messed up. I don't condone what Michael Vick did. I can't condone what Michael Vick did. I just know that it would be different if he wasn't black. I'm just worried about Atlanta.
Around the block
"I have been around the block enough times to know that__________________."
Whenever those words are spoken, some thoughts flood my mind.
This person thinks pretty highly of how they have lived life and they know how to answer anything and probably aren't hearing anything I have to say.
And then I think; where is this block? If you have been around the block enough times, can you tell me where that block is? If it's the block that my mom lives in. I have ran around that block, walked around it, driven around it; yet, I'm not sure I'm much smarter because of that block. That block has been around for a while. I've watched it be built. I've watched people move into the block. I've smelled backyard barbecues on that block. Have heard dogs bark in that block. I have seen rocky mud splotches become beautiful green lawns. Yet, I'm not sure that having been around that block so many times really has built me high enough of a platform for me to know everything. Clearly, I have been around the wrong block enough times. If you drop me an adress for the right block, I'll go ahead and mapquest that and start running around your block.
Whenever those words are spoken, some thoughts flood my mind.
This person thinks pretty highly of how they have lived life and they know how to answer anything and probably aren't hearing anything I have to say.
And then I think; where is this block? If you have been around the block enough times, can you tell me where that block is? If it's the block that my mom lives in. I have ran around that block, walked around it, driven around it; yet, I'm not sure I'm much smarter because of that block. That block has been around for a while. I've watched it be built. I've watched people move into the block. I've smelled backyard barbecues on that block. Have heard dogs bark in that block. I have seen rocky mud splotches become beautiful green lawns. Yet, I'm not sure that having been around that block so many times really has built me high enough of a platform for me to know everything. Clearly, I have been around the wrong block enough times. If you drop me an adress for the right block, I'll go ahead and mapquest that and start running around your block.
Friday, July 20, 2007
waiting on the world to change
...I tried to express the feelings of helplessness that come with knowing what needs to change in the world but also knowing the futility of trying.
John Mayer
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Winnipeg
http://www.johnmayer.com/blog#329
John Mayer
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Winnipeg
http://www.johnmayer.com/blog#329
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