Weekly Sermon

"Religion is doing what you're told, regardless of what's right. Morality is doing what's right, regardless of what you're told."

This Semester

Actually, scratch that, my whole life.

Do Want

So I've never really given much thought or care to labels or the fashion industry (much to the chagrin of most of my friends; then I simply look at them and say 'Half lesbian, dude' and they usually drop it).

With that said, it's rather hard to ignore Alexander McQueen, and from what I've seen of his work I adore it. Found this on my friend's tumblr, and.....holy sh*t. I'd need to shed about half my body weigh first, but....mon dieu.

Go Team

This Week's Ponderings

Brought to you by (of course) the great Ayn Rand.

"There is no more despicable coward than the man who deserted the battle for his joy, fearing to assert his right to existence, lacking the courage and the loyalty to life of a bird or a flower reaching for the sun. Discard the protective rags of that vice which you call a virtue: humility—learn to value yourself, which means: to fight for your happiness—and when you learn that pride is the sum of all virtues, you will learn to live like a man."

"The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires...because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut....He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body."

Every Damn Time

The Judgement Seat

I read this story about a year ago. I love it. It's so powerful. I'll let it speak for itself, though.

The Judgment Seat

They awaited their turn patiently, but patience was no new thing to them; they had practiced it, all three of them, with grim determination, for thirty years. Their lives had been a long preparation for this moment and they looked forward to the issue now, if not with self-confidence, for that on so awful an occasion would have been misplaced, at all events with hope and courage. They had taken the strait and narrow path when the flowery meads of sin stretched all too invitingly before them; with heads held high, though with breaking hearts, they had resisted temptation; and now, their arduous journey done, they expected their reward. There was no need for them to speak, since each knew the other’s thoughts, and they felt that in all three of them the same emotion of relief filled their bodiless souls with thanksgiving. With what anguish now would they have been wrung if they had yielded to the passion which then had seemed so early irresistible and what a madness it would have been if for a few short years of bliss they had sacrificed that Life Everlasting which with so bright a light at long last shone before them! They felt like men who with the skin of their teeth have escaped a sudden and violent death and touch their feet and hands and, scarce able to believe that they are still are still alive, look about them in amazement. They had done nothing with which they could reproach themselves and when presently their angels came and told them that the moment was come, they would advance, as they had passed through the world that was now so far behind, happily conscious that they had done their duty. They stood a little on one side, for the press was great. A terrible war was in progress and for years the soldiers of all nations, men in the full flush of their gallant youth, had marched in an interminable procession to the Judgment Seat; women and children too, their lives brought to a wretched end by violence or, more unhappily, by grief, disease and starvation; and there was in the courts of heaven not a little confusion.

It was on account of this war, too, that those three wan shivering ghosts stood in expectation of their doom. For John and Mary had been passengers on a ship which was sunk by the torpedo of a submarine; and Ruth, broken in health by the arduous work to which she had so nobly devoted herself, hearing of the death of the man whom she had loved with all her heart, sank beneath the blow and died. John, indeed, might have saved himself if he had not tried to save his wife; he had hated her; he had hated her to the depths of his soul for thirty years; but he had always done his duty by her and now, in the moment of dreadful peril, it never occurred to him that he could do otherwise.

At last their angels took them by the hand and led them to the Presence. For a little while the Eternal took not the slightest notice of them. If the truth must be told he was in a bad humour. A moment before there had come up for judgment a philosopher, deceased full of years and honours, who had told the Eternal to his face that he did not believe in him. It was not this that would have disturbed the serenity of the King of Kings, this could only have made him smile; but the philosopher, taking perhaps an unfair advantage of the regrettable happenings just then upon Earth, had asked him how, considering them dispassionately, it was possible to reconcile his All-Power with his All-Goodness.

“No one can deny the fact of Evil,” said the philosopher, sententiously. “Now, if God cannot prevent Evil he is not all-powerful, and if he can prevent it and will not, he is not all-good.”

This argument was of course not new to the Omniscient, but he had always refused to consider the matter; for the fact is, though he knew everything, he did not know the answer to this. Even God cannot make two and two five. But the philosopher, pressing his advantage, and, as philosophers often will, drawing from a reasonable premise an unjustifiable inference, the philosopher had finished with a statement that in the circumstances was surely preposterous. “I will not believe,” he said, “in a God who is not All-Powerful and All-Good.”

It was not then perhaps without relief that the Eternal turned his attention to the three
shades who stood humbly and yet hopefully before him. The quick; with so short a time to live, when they talk of themselves, talk too much; but the dead, with eternity before them, are so verbose that only angels could listen to them with civility. But this in brief is the story that these three recounted. John and Mary had been happily married for five years and till John net Ruth they loved each other, as married couples of the most part do, with sincere affection and mutual respect.

Ruth was eighteen, ten years younger than he was, a charming, graceful animal, with a sudden and all-conquering loveliness; she was as healthy in mind as she was in body, and, eager for the natural happiness of life, was capable of achieving that greatness which is beauty of soul. John fell in love with her and she with him. But it was no ordinary passion that seized them; it was something so overwhelming that they felt as if the whole long history of the world signified only because it had led to the time and place that had brought them together. They loved as Daphnis and Chloe or as Paolo and Francesca. But after that first moment of ecstasy when each discovered the other’s love they were seized with dismay. They were decent people and they respected themselves, the beliefs in which they had been bred, and the society in which they lived. How could he betray an innocent girl, and what had she to do with a married man? Then they grew conscious that Mary was aware of their love. The confident affection with which she had regarded her husband was shaken; and there arose in her feelings of which she would never have thought herself capable, jealousy and the fear that he would desert her, anger because her possession of his heart was threatened and a strange hunger of the soul which was more painful than love. She felt that she would die if he left her; and yet she knew that if he loved it was because love had come to him, not because he had sought it. She did not blame him. She prayed for strength; she wept silent, bitter tears. John and Ruth saw her pine away before their eyes. The struggle was long and bitter. Sometimes their hearts failed them and they felt that they could not resist the passion that burned the marrow of their bones. They resisted. They wrestled with evil as Jacob wrestled with the angel of God and at last they conquered. With breaking hearts, but proud in their innocence, they parted. They offered up to God, as it were a sacrifice, their hopes of happiness, the joy of life and the beauty of the world.

Ruth had loved too passionately ever to love again and with a stony heart she turned to god and to good works. She was indefatigable. She tended the sick and assisted the poor. She founded orphanages and managed charitable institutions. And little by little her beauty which she cared for no longer left hr and her face grew as hard as her heart. Her religion was fierce and narrow, her very kindness was cruel because it was founded not on love but on reason; she became domineering, intolerant, and vindictive. And John, resigned, but sullen and angry, dragged himself along the weary years waiting for the release of death. Life lost its meaning to him; he had made his effort and in conquering was conquered; the only emotion that remained with him was the unceasing, secret hatred with which he looked upon his wife. He used her with kindness and consideration; he did everything that could be expected of a man who was a Christian and a gentleman. He did his duty. Mary, a good, faithful and (it must be confessed) exceptional wife, never thought to reproach her husband for the madness that had seized him; but all the same she could not forgive him for the sacrifice he had made for her sake. She grew acid and querulous. Though she hated herself for it, she could not refrain from saying the things that she knew would wound him. She would willingly have sacrificed her life for him, but she could not bear that he should enjoy a moment’s happiness when she was so wretched that a hundred times she had wished she was dead. Well, now she was and so were they; grey and drab had life been, but that was passed; they had not sinner and now their reward was at hand.

They finished and there was silence. There was silence in all the courts of heaven. Go to hell were the words that came to the Eternal’s lips, but he did not utter them, for they had a colloquial association that he rightly thought unfitting to the solemnity of the occasion. Nor indeed would such a decree have met the merits of the case. But his brows darkened. He asked himself if it was for this that he had made the rising sun shine on the boundless sea and the snow glitter on the mountain tops; was it for this that the brooks sang blithely as they hastened down the hillsides and the golden corn waved in the evening breeze?

“I sometimes think,” said the Eternal, “that the stars never shine more brightly than when reflected in the muddy waters of a wayside ditch.”

But the three shades stood before him and now that they had unfolded their unhappy story they could not but feel a certain satisfaction. It had been a bitter struggle, but they had done their duty. The Eternal blew lightly, he blew as a man might blow out a lighted match, and, behold! where the three poor souls had stood – was nothing. The Eternal had annihilated them.

“I have often wondered why men think I attach so much importance to sexual irregularity,” he said. “If they read my works more attentively they would see that I have always been sympathetic to that particular form of human frailty.”

Then he turned to the philosopher, who was still waiting for a reply to his remarks. “You cannot but allow,” said the eternal, “that on this occasion I have very happily combined my All-Power with my All-Goodness.”

I Knew I Liked Him

Confession Of A White Unmarried Female

So, I have a bit of a confession.

I love this book.

I just finished re-reading it (you can imagine my Grandfather's surprise-even shock- when he realized not only what I was reading, but that it wasn't my first time reading it, either!) And I just....adore it. It's just so beautifully written, so compelling.

Perhaps it's my own 'connection' to Lolita (those of you who know me 'for reals' know on how many levels) or simply Nabokov's perfectly written pathos. You can't help but feel sorry for Humbert Humbert, trapped by his own malformed mind. (And yet, and yet! His real-life counterpart is so vile!) As much as you understand, as you abhor, you want it to work out, you desperately want them to be happy, Humbert and his poor Lolita.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line.

But in my arms she was always Lolita.

The Crazy Cat Lady: It Starts

Victory Is Mine!

My Abnormal Psychology professor from last semester (who was, on a side note, extremely attractive) when sending out our grades, attached this to the bottom of his email:

"You'll have to find my address out on your own if you want to throw a brick through my window."

So I replied:

"......is that a challenge? :)"

And his response:

"Um, I think getting a brick through my window would make a great story so ya, consider it a challenge :)"

Jury's In, Folks

After quite a long deliberation, I've decided.


I'd hit that. Just once, it would be worth the crazy. Took me a long time to figure out if I would or not, but after MI4 (Jesus, that blue suit!) I said, sure.

Just once.

Why I Love Having My Birthday In January

So True.

Like A Boss

So this past weekend I was laid up with a bad bout of food poisoning (check expiration dates, kids!!) and so you can imagine my anxiety about getting to class on time today.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

I have to cross the street to get the the bus stop in the mornings. Like always, I paused at the designated crosswalk, sighed at the amount of people already there, looked both ways and began to cross the street. There's another apartment complex across this street, and their parking lot opens right by this crosswalk. As I'm nearly to the other side of the street, I see this Jeep paused waiting to turn right. I keep walking, because, really, who wouldn't see me walking in the middle of the street, right? But then he turns, and I keep walking, thinking that he's just getting out into the street and will wait for me to cross. Then he got closer. And closer.

And then I realized: Holy s*it. He's going to hit me.

And then all I remember is sky, the image of shattered glass, a tumbling sensation, and hitting the ground.

"F*ck," I muttered, because even at BYU, when you get hit by a car you're allowed to say that. I started to pick up my head, because, seriously, I'm lying in the middle of the street. I raise it up just enough, then say 'screw it. I need a minute.' I heard everyone rush over, someone yelling to call 911, but it all seems far away. I raise my hand and see blood trickling down, but it actually doesn't seem that bad. I manage to get up, grab my bag (dammit a strap's broken) and stumble over to the curb.

"Well," I say awkwardly, because about 40 people are staring at me, "crossed that one off the bucket list." This gets a few laughs, but the awkward gaping stares prevail. Then the bus arrives, and I think about getting on, (because hey, I can't be late for this class) but right as I start to move, the police car shows up behind it. Damn.

So the cop comes over, and the bus leaves, and before I know it everybody has all my information (as I give the EMT my birthdate, he looks up and awkwardly says "Happy Birthday....") and before too long, I'm signing the incident report and am on my way to class.

Although, as I was walking along the sidewalk, I was suddenly terrified of every car that passed by me, even when I was walking as far away from the curb as possible. DAMN YOU, CONDITIONING!!

I called my mom about 5 times, and she didn't pick up. So I called my dad, and told him the story, and then a few minutes my mother frantically calls me back. "The ONLY time I ignore your call is when you get hit by a car?!" Haha. It would be funny, if it was the first time she'd ignored my call :P

The EMTs gave me a long (unsurprising) list of 'symptoms' that I should be aware of, and if I started to feel them, I should go to an ER, and after my first class....I did. So I managed to push myself through my next two classes, then headed down to the local ER. (I'll be bitching in a separate post about the RIDICULOUSLY LONG WAITING OF OUR MEDICAL SYSTEM).

(I took those for my mom, who was very worried that it 'wasn't a real hospital').



The doctor said that I seemed like I'd be fine, but that the pain was going to get way worse tomorrow and the day after....and that he wasn't going to prescribe me anything.

Bastard.

(The gown was seriously made for someone at least 300lbs heavier than me. Awkward).

I had a good friend pick me up from the ER and take me home, and we laughed at my utter failure at life.

(This is the 'Freshman Meme,' I had to do it).

But seriously...I got hit by a Jeep, hard enough to shatter one of his headlights and the plastic thing on his hood, and my body, my MacBook, and my iPhone (which was in the pocket on the side I got hit) are all fine. I got up and walked away, with a broken backpack, some bruises, scratches and a torn coat.

Let's be honest here.

I'm clearly a superhero.

:P