THEY CALL ME A COCKEYED OPTIMIST
Which is why I'm not posting the bad news right now. Just this article from the Arab News.
Incidentally, I prefer to think of myself as a hopeful realist.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
SO SAD
It's not like education is all that complicated--you read, you argue, you research, you write. I don't know what or whom to wish a pox upon, but I'm doing it anyway.
A pox upon you, whomever-you-are, that made education like Abercrombie!
It's not like education is all that complicated--you read, you argue, you research, you write. I don't know what or whom to wish a pox upon, but I'm doing it anyway.
A pox upon you, whomever-you-are, that made education like Abercrombie!
Friday, January 28, 2005
NOT TO POST EXCESSIVELY OR ANYTHING...
But just pretend I'm catching up. Here's an amusing quote from Peter Krupa and Kevin Weber and Frank Sinatra.
But just pretend I'm catching up. Here's an amusing quote from Peter Krupa and Kevin Weber and Frank Sinatra.
IF I EVER GET FARTHER INTO FRANCE THAN THE AIRPORT...
I'll re-read this article first. :) Even if it doesn't help, it'll still make me laugh.
And while I'm linking to articles, here's one on intellectual property and copyright misuse which I found quite informative and enjoyable. It says I'm not allowed to have the above quote from the Guardian on my blog. Or maybe I'm allowed to excerpt from the article, just not to duplicate it in full. Anyway, Arts and Letters Daily publishes excerpts, so I will too, until I hear otherwise, that is, unless I find out that I'll get in big trouble for it. Hmmmm...I'm curious what Bob has to say about it--seems like the sort of thing he'd know/post about.
Oh yeah...Google Print is a most bodacious idea. :)
I'll re-read this article first. :) Even if it doesn't help, it'll still make me laugh.
I had just got to the front of the queue and plonked my parcels on the counter when an old man at another window revealed that he wanted to wire money from his post office account to each of his 11 grandchildren, and that the total sum to be wired had to equal the square root of their combined shoe sizes. Or something.Beautiful, ain't it?
And while I'm linking to articles, here's one on intellectual property and copyright misuse which I found quite informative and enjoyable. It says I'm not allowed to have the above quote from the Guardian on my blog. Or maybe I'm allowed to excerpt from the article, just not to duplicate it in full. Anyway, Arts and Letters Daily publishes excerpts, so I will too, until I hear otherwise, that is, unless I find out that I'll get in big trouble for it. Hmmmm...I'm curious what Bob has to say about it--seems like the sort of thing he'd know/post about.
Oh yeah...Google Print is a most bodacious idea. :)
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Saturday, January 15, 2005
MAIWWAGE...IS WHAT I'M GOING TO TALK ABOUT
I remember in my first year of college first thinking the disturbing thought that this was the age that people started to get married--that I would probably meet my wife at school. Weirdness, I thought. I don't FEEL old.
I was, however, expecting to be surprised first with a stampede of friends getting married, which would be strange, but help me get used to the idea.
Didn't happen--I mean, my roommate Chad got married, but Chad was hardly a stampede. ;) Also, the Talcotts and the Raglands...but that was all. No stampede. Nothing to prepare me for the fact that I was next.
So now I'm married, and have been for a year now, and I'm still not used to the idea. I'm not the age to get married--I still feel like I'm 16 or something.
So I'm getting seriously weirded out right now, because the stampede just began.
Seraphim's engaged. Konrad's engaged. Bethany and Stephen are engaged. Even Dave Frank is engaged. And I heard over at the BeatBlog that George and Nik are engaged. And, most frightening of all, Amber Briggs is in love. With Lee Nunn. As if I hadn't already been thinking that the world is coming to an end.
And the same thing is apparently happening at the seminary.
Where are the simple joys of bachelorhood? Never mind that I threw them out the window last year and never looked back. What's happened to everyone else?
And incidentally, congratulations to everyone, most especially Seraphim and Anne, Konrad and Joy, and Stephen and Bethany. For all I say it's too soon for me, y'all sure took your time. ;)
I remember in my first year of college first thinking the disturbing thought that this was the age that people started to get married--that I would probably meet my wife at school. Weirdness, I thought. I don't FEEL old.
I was, however, expecting to be surprised first with a stampede of friends getting married, which would be strange, but help me get used to the idea.
Didn't happen--I mean, my roommate Chad got married, but Chad was hardly a stampede. ;) Also, the Talcotts and the Raglands...but that was all. No stampede. Nothing to prepare me for the fact that I was next.
So now I'm married, and have been for a year now, and I'm still not used to the idea. I'm not the age to get married--I still feel like I'm 16 or something.
So I'm getting seriously weirded out right now, because the stampede just began.
Seraphim's engaged. Konrad's engaged. Bethany and Stephen are engaged. Even Dave Frank is engaged. And I heard over at the BeatBlog that George and Nik are engaged. And, most frightening of all, Amber Briggs is in love. With Lee Nunn. As if I hadn't already been thinking that the world is coming to an end.
And the same thing is apparently happening at the seminary.
Where are the simple joys of bachelorhood? Never mind that I threw them out the window last year and never looked back. What's happened to everyone else?
And incidentally, congratulations to everyone, most especially Seraphim and Anne, Konrad and Joy, and Stephen and Bethany. For all I say it's too soon for me, y'all sure took your time. ;)
Friday, January 14, 2005
THANK YOU, INFIDEL SONS OF PIGS?
Not likely
Here's an interesting piece--points out how much money the West is contributing to Asian tsunami relief compared to the various Arab nations.
Not to deny the legitimate claims of Arab nations against the West, but I begin to get the impression that they just want to blame somebody for all their problems and America makes a nice scapegoat.
Not likely
Here's an interesting piece--points out how much money the West is contributing to Asian tsunami relief compared to the various Arab nations.
Not to deny the legitimate claims of Arab nations against the West, but I begin to get the impression that they just want to blame somebody for all their problems and America makes a nice scapegoat.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
ON PROPOSALS
'Gussie is an orange-juice addict. He drinks nothing else'
'I was not aware of that, sir.'
'I have it from his own lips. Whether from some hereditary taint, or because he promised his mother he wouldn't, or simply because he doesn't like the taste of the stuff, Gussie Fink-Nottle has never in the whole course of his career pushed so much as the simplest gin and tonic over the larynx. And he expects--this poop expects, Jeeves--this wabbling, shrinking, diffident rabbit in human shape expects under these conditions to propose to the girl he loves. One hardly knows whether to smile or weep, what?'
'You consider total abstinence a handicap to a gentleman who wishes to make a proposal of marriage, sir?'
The question amazed me.
'Why, dash it,' I said, astounded, 'you must know it is. Use your intelligence, Jeeves. Reflect what proposing means. It means that a decent, self-respecting chap has got to listen to himself saying things which, if spoken on the silver screen, would cause him to dash to the box-office and demand his money back. Let him attempt to do it on orange juice, and what ensues? Shame seals his lips, or, if it doesn't do that, makes him lose his morale and start to babble. Gussie, for example, as we have seen, babbles of syncopated newts.'
'Palmated newts, sir.'
--from the inimitable P.G. Wodehouse's Right-Ho, Jeeves
'Gussie is an orange-juice addict. He drinks nothing else'
'I was not aware of that, sir.'
'I have it from his own lips. Whether from some hereditary taint, or because he promised his mother he wouldn't, or simply because he doesn't like the taste of the stuff, Gussie Fink-Nottle has never in the whole course of his career pushed so much as the simplest gin and tonic over the larynx. And he expects--this poop expects, Jeeves--this wabbling, shrinking, diffident rabbit in human shape expects under these conditions to propose to the girl he loves. One hardly knows whether to smile or weep, what?'
'You consider total abstinence a handicap to a gentleman who wishes to make a proposal of marriage, sir?'
The question amazed me.
'Why, dash it,' I said, astounded, 'you must know it is. Use your intelligence, Jeeves. Reflect what proposing means. It means that a decent, self-respecting chap has got to listen to himself saying things which, if spoken on the silver screen, would cause him to dash to the box-office and demand his money back. Let him attempt to do it on orange juice, and what ensues? Shame seals his lips, or, if it doesn't do that, makes him lose his morale and start to babble. Gussie, for example, as we have seen, babbles of syncopated newts.'
'Palmated newts, sir.'
--from the inimitable P.G. Wodehouse's Right-Ho, Jeeves
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
NOW DON'T GET TESTY WITH ME...
A little late, but here's a link to a blog I've been hoping would materialize since I started blogging. Nathan Loizeaux (Wazoo, Man of Mystery, Straight Homo-Eroticism Incarnate, Stealth Club God, Greco-Roman Wrestling, etc, etc, see also entries for Jason T. Robey Baiting, Famous Moonings, Best-Eminem-Imitation-Ever) has joined this small but happy world of expatriates.
It will never be the same.
A little late, but here's a link to a blog I've been hoping would materialize since I started blogging. Nathan Loizeaux (Wazoo, Man of Mystery, Straight Homo-Eroticism Incarnate, Stealth Club God, Greco-Roman Wrestling, etc, etc, see also entries for Jason T. Robey Baiting, Famous Moonings, Best-Eminem-Imitation-Ever) has joined this small but happy world of expatriates.
It will never be the same.
Monday, January 10, 2005
NEVER MIND MY LAST POST
I have long known that I am an ill-educated buffoon compared to the English gentleman of a century past--now I learn that I am merely sophomoric even beside the man who mined his coal. Here is a fascinating article discussing the level of education and thought in the British slums of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
Reading towards the end of the article, I begin to wonder when precisely American education became so Marxist.
I have long known that I am an ill-educated buffoon compared to the English gentleman of a century past--now I learn that I am merely sophomoric even beside the man who mined his coal. Here is a fascinating article discussing the level of education and thought in the British slums of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
Reading towards the end of the article, I begin to wonder when precisely American education became so Marxist.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
BACK FROM ROME
Got in late last night--if you didn't know the wife and I had gone to Rome with brother Caleb, well, I'm sorry. I would have mentioned it, but the evil internet devils stole my access pretty much from my last post until now. It's back now, and so am I.
Rome was cool--but mainly the ancient stuff. I got tired of seeing what should have been nifty old churches covered with hideous Rennaissance stuff. The Vatican was...um...excessive. Decided I really do like meek and mild Christianity better. Didn't really spend all that much time there. Instead we walked by the Tiber and saw the outlet for the Cloaca Maxima. Oh Yeah!
The Forum rocked.
Got in late last night--if you didn't know the wife and I had gone to Rome with brother Caleb, well, I'm sorry. I would have mentioned it, but the evil internet devils stole my access pretty much from my last post until now. It's back now, and so am I.
Rome was cool--but mainly the ancient stuff. I got tired of seeing what should have been nifty old churches covered with hideous Rennaissance stuff. The Vatican was...um...excessive. Decided I really do like meek and mild Christianity better. Didn't really spend all that much time there. Instead we walked by the Tiber and saw the outlet for the Cloaca Maxima. Oh Yeah!
The Forum rocked.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
ALSO, THE BEST EVER CRITIQUE OF THE WAR IN IRAQ
What more can I say? Well-reasoned, not too complicated, non-angry--it's great. I wish they were all like that.
What more can I say? Well-reasoned, not too complicated, non-angry--it's great. I wish they were all like that.
IN A MOMENT OF SELF-LOATHING
I too am waiting, O Radioactive Spider. Turn my tawdry finals week existence into a cool cover for my secret identity. Make my staying-up-late, sleeping-in, being-late-to-everything and being-generally-undependable tendencies into a heroic and tragic hidden sacrifice. Make me worth being--I'm doing a sucky job of it by myself!
Please?!?
(and yes, I know, this prayer should be directed elsewhere than a hypothetical spider. It's just that sometimes, it would be nice if things were that easy. I'd much rather fight super-villains than myself)
I too am waiting, O Radioactive Spider. Turn my tawdry finals week existence into a cool cover for my secret identity. Make my staying-up-late, sleeping-in, being-late-to-everything and being-generally-undependable tendencies into a heroic and tragic hidden sacrifice. Make me worth being--I'm doing a sucky job of it by myself!
Please?!?
(and yes, I know, this prayer should be directed elsewhere than a hypothetical spider. It's just that sometimes, it would be nice if things were that easy. I'd much rather fight super-villains than myself)
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
1:53 AM
Four nights. In a row. 187 Minesweeper games (best time, 118 seconds Expert--not good enough). 4 hours Rome Total War. 8 hours of newsifying. 8 more of constant checking and re-checking of every blog on my list. Equally constant checking of the fan fiction sites--some people have no concept of their responsibility to procrastinating students--not enough updates. 18 hours of sleep in 4 days: not bad, not too good either. Five Dr. Peppers, four beers, three ginger ales, two shots of Ouzo, and not nearly enough water. And 50 pages to write, five finals to prep for, and one life to keep living.
Yup. It's Finals Week. And if the Lord of the Vineyard had not ordained that Finals Weeks could fill no more than 1/25 of each year, we would all have killed ourselves by now.
Only 51 hours till the hypothetical end of the drama. 51 hours to finish. I daren't think of incompletes--because if I think of them, I'll ask for them, and I'll get them, and then I'll never finish. That way lies madness.
So now, finally, as the final gauntlet heaves into sight, the pressure finally comes to bear. I always say that I need to need to get my work done--if it doesn't matter, I won't do it.
I forgot how much it sucks when something has to get done and it's 2 in the morning and my brain is backfiring on caffeine and I haven't slept right for half a week and there's no alternative but to push through and do it.
I only wonder if it's still possible. And hence, naturally, faced with impossibility, I don't buckle down. Instead, I blog.
Let this writing live through the ages, a testimony to American Higher Education and the insanity of the American student.
Specifically, me.
*UPDATE*
Make that 50 hours to finish. I wasted one writing this.
Four nights. In a row. 187 Minesweeper games (best time, 118 seconds Expert--not good enough). 4 hours Rome Total War. 8 hours of newsifying. 8 more of constant checking and re-checking of every blog on my list. Equally constant checking of the fan fiction sites--some people have no concept of their responsibility to procrastinating students--not enough updates. 18 hours of sleep in 4 days: not bad, not too good either. Five Dr. Peppers, four beers, three ginger ales, two shots of Ouzo, and not nearly enough water. And 50 pages to write, five finals to prep for, and one life to keep living.
Yup. It's Finals Week. And if the Lord of the Vineyard had not ordained that Finals Weeks could fill no more than 1/25 of each year, we would all have killed ourselves by now.
Only 51 hours till the hypothetical end of the drama. 51 hours to finish. I daren't think of incompletes--because if I think of them, I'll ask for them, and I'll get them, and then I'll never finish. That way lies madness.
So now, finally, as the final gauntlet heaves into sight, the pressure finally comes to bear. I always say that I need to need to get my work done--if it doesn't matter, I won't do it.
I forgot how much it sucks when something has to get done and it's 2 in the morning and my brain is backfiring on caffeine and I haven't slept right for half a week and there's no alternative but to push through and do it.
I only wonder if it's still possible. And hence, naturally, faced with impossibility, I don't buckle down. Instead, I blog.
Let this writing live through the ages, a testimony to American Higher Education and the insanity of the American student.
Specifically, me.
*UPDATE*
Make that 50 hours to finish. I wasted one writing this.
Monday, December 13, 2004
PREGNANCY, NOTHING!
You will not believe this. I do not believe this.
But there are pictures.
How'd YOU like to carry a 66-pound baby tumor for five years? The size of three watermelons?
Yeah. I thought not.
You will not believe this. I do not believe this.
But there are pictures.
How'd YOU like to carry a 66-pound baby tumor for five years? The size of three watermelons?
Yeah. I thought not.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
NOT DEAD, NOT EVEN MOSTLY
The current activity on this blog is happening below, in the comments for December 1st's post. David Talcott is being kind and arguing with me, providing my brain with some much-needed exercise. :) Feel free to join in.
The current activity on this blog is happening below, in the comments for December 1st's post. David Talcott is being kind and arguing with me, providing my brain with some much-needed exercise. :) Feel free to join in.
Friday, December 03, 2004
FOR THEM AS LIKES HUMOR BETTER THAN MY THEOLOGICAL BLITHERINGS
While I'm in the mood to quote Card, and as a belated commentary on the whole election of last month (happy though I am that John Kerry will not be president next month), here's a pithy little quote from OSC's Heartfire.
While I'm in the mood to quote Card, and as a belated commentary on the whole election of last month (happy though I am that John Kerry will not be president next month), here's a pithy little quote from OSC's Heartfire.
"Government is like watching another man piss in your boot. Someone feels better but it certainly isn't you."And that pretty darn near speaks for itself.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
NOT QUITE A PAN-GALACTIC GARGLE-BLASTER...
...but at least expensive enough for the Restaurant at the End of the World.
And much sillier. I mean, think about it--Martini on a Rock? Give me a break!
...but at least expensive enough for the Restaurant at the End of the World.
And much sillier. I mean, think about it--Martini on a Rock? Give me a break!
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
OUT OF THE MOUTH OF BABES AND MORMONS...
I think this is true. And if it is, then truly, Christ's Incarnation is the First act of the Creation, late in time though it is.
Come to think of it, St. John the Forerunner said the same thing.
"The Maker is the one who is part of what he makes."
--from Orson Scott Card's Prentice Alvin, Chapter 9
I think this is true. And if it is, then truly, Christ's Incarnation is the First act of the Creation, late in time though it is.
Come to think of it, St. John the Forerunner said the same thing.
ὁ ὀπίσω μου ἐρχόμενος ἔμπροσθέν μου γέγονεν, ὅτι πρῶτός μου ἦν.
That is cool, and I'm going to enjoy thinking about it. I would also like to say that I love the way tenses get screwed up when you talk about the intersection of the timeless God with this temporal creation. A grammaticians dream/nightmare, completely aside from the sublime salvific implications thereof.
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