Surprised by Life

Flickr and Other Things that Live in my Macbook

2009-07-24T20:16:00.002-05:00

Because this weblog is morphing into a photoblog, I decided to find a better way to share my pictures. So I turned to Flickr because that seems to be what everyone else is using. Even though it's powered by Yahoo, I like it so far. You can find my photostream here.

If you're on Flickr, please friend me! I'm using the name "Tigerlily Kate." Apparently, my hobbit name is Tigerlily Brandybuck. What would we do without LOTR name generators? I do not know. I had to create a Yahoo email address in order to use Flickr, and I swear, EVERY email name I typed in was already taken.

So I changed my language to "Ireland." That opened up the email address pool. I've never had an email address ending with .ie before!

Another cool thing: I am not on my blogger account. I am posting this directly from my iGoogle homepage. Very spiffy. Google beats Yahoo any day.

No one has a senior picture as cool as mine!

2009-07-18T19:16:00.002-05:00

Photography

2009-07-16T20:09:00.004-05:00

This is for my blogger friend Jessica's photo contest.

Yes, I made a YouTube video. No, I'm not a loser.

2009-07-10T19:21:00.002-05:00

Fireworks at the Lake 2009

2009-07-04T13:20:00.003-05:00

Happy 4th of July!

News

2009-06-01T20:22:00.002-05:00

So, I wanted to let everyone know what is going on in my life right now. But my mother just posted something which pretty much sums it all up, and I'm too lazy to upload more pictures, here is the link.

The other thing which is really life changing for me you can read here. (Note: Wedding bells!)

Graduating

2009-05-24T21:07:00.009-05:00

Today was no ordinary Sunday. We were the third family to arrive at church this morning, and I shuffled in through the rain, laden with a fruit salad which was destined to be consumed during the potluck. I was greeted by this:

My pastor had given me a heads up about this via email, but I wasn't expecting it to be that special. The good angels who make everything comfortable at church (also known as "Fellowship Team") had decorated with balloons, banners, and designated seating for the graduates. They even used school colors! Mine are blue and blue--Covenant College. Very classy.

This cake was really, really good!

Me and the two other grads

I had a lovely time. Church has become home, a safe place. I am going to miss all those people so much. Even if I do get to live on a beautiful mountain.

A short story: Colin and the Jharnek, Part III

2009-04-28T19:55:00.002-05:00

Maryjo awoke to the urging of her mother’s voice, and with a rush she remembered the thing and the events of the day before. The note--they were going to write a note! She jumped up and reached for her pencil box, tore a blank page from her diary, and wrote as quickly as she could:

Dear Mr. Owner of The Thing,

Colin found it. He is sorry he took it but he didn’t know so he’s not a robber. We are keeping it safe. We will give it back as soon as we know who you are.

Maryjo and Colin

She folded the pale pink paper in half twice, making a fat square. All that Colin had to do was convince their mother to take him to his buddy’s house, sneak off to the park, put the note exactly where It was, and sneak back without anyone knowing what he did. In the meantime, It needed a good hiding place.

Colin and Maryjo were jittery the whole day. Maryjo lived in a tenor of suspense in the hours she was alone, praying that Colin could take care of the note. She needn’t have worried so much. Colin’s friend was a help and everything worked for him that day. He mashed the note under the bench where he had found the Thing and scurried out of the park.

Exactly two hours and three and a half minutes later, a tall silver-haired woman strolled to the park bench and took the note. Her face lightened when she scanned the note, and she almost smiled. She produced a cream-colored sheet of parchment and a long-stemmed pen which she dipped in an inkwell and tickled the paper.

The words complete, she put the parchment in place of the note Colin had delivered and disappeared the way she had come, her long, silver hair whisked by the wind. Another woman appeared. Her hair was dark, her face smooth. She made her way to the bench and pulled off the note. Her eyes darkened as she read it. She pulled out a blank pale blue page, the words soaking into it as she whispered them to the paper. A ladybug lighted on the paper, which she flicked off and crushed beneath her heel. After placing the note that she had just written in place of the first one, she turned and followed the steps of the silver-haired woman.
___

“Did you do it?” Maryjo could wait no longer. “Is it still secret?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Colin answered, “But what about It? Where--?”

“It is safe. No one will find it.”

“Maryjo, take this. I went back to the park, to check on my note, and I found this. Read it.”

Maryjo took the dark red envelope Colin offered her. She pulled out a matching red sheet of paper and read the silvery words:

Maryjo and Colin,

Beware my sister. She wants what I own, what you have found, and will never cease until she has it. Do not let it fall into adverse hands. I will come to you tonight. Yes, I know where you live. I know many things.

Maryjo folded the paper and slid it into the envelope. Colin studied her face. “I don’t know what to do.” she said finally.
_______

The children had abandoned resolutions of remaining watchful and were sleeping deeply, but Maryjo woke instantly when she felt a cold hand over her mouth, stifling her scream. She saw it was a woman, with hair so silvery white it looked as if it glowed, hair that smelled like the sun and wind as it brushed over Maryjo’s arm. Her dress was like one Maryjo had seen once in an artist’s drawing of a lady of king Arthur’s court.

“I would not have woken you,” the stranger whispered, “But I can’t find the Jharnek. Where have you hidden it?

“What?”

“The Jharnek that you and your brother found. I need it.”

Maryjo understood. Colin had gone to sleep with It in his pocket. She glanced at him involuntarily, and the stranger followed her eyes.

“So he has it.” She let go of Maryjo and moved to Colin. He did not wake as she removed it from his pocket. Maryjo was still frightened, but the lady seemed calm and friendly, so Maryjo chanced a question.

“What is a Jharna--”

“I cannot explain. You cannot bear the burden of knowledge. I thank you for keeping it safe, but I must leave you ignorant. It is not safe for you to know.” She hesitated, thinking, feeling Mary’s beseeching eyes on her face. “But I can give you forgetfulness. I can take away all memory of me, of the Jharnek, of everything that has happened yesterday and today. Would you like me to?”

Mary turned away from the lady with silver hair who looked both young and old. She thought of the weight and beauty of the Jharnek and the silver script of the note they had received. She thought of the woman and the unknown world that she must have come from, and her own longing to escape a place where faeries and enchanted castles did not exist. She thought of this, and said, “I must either know all or nothing. Knowing little, I will never be satisfied without knowing all. Take the memory.”

“Reach up, tough the Jharnek with your first finger, here.”

Maryjo did so, and remembered no more.

A short story: Colin and the Jharnek, Part II

2009-04-24T11:26:00.002-05:00

As soon as she saw It, Maryjo understood why Colin had been so mysterious in the car. It formed a sphere out of three metal rings, smooth except for four small knobs at opposite ends that were topped with glittering stones, each a different color. The whole thing was not much bigger than her father’s thumb, and as she stared, she felt the urge to keep it hidden, secret. Colin must have felt the same when he found it. It reminded Maryjo of a gyroscope that her friend had sent spinning on the floor, with its intricate metal loops. She was not quite sure how it worked.

“I don’t know what to do with it.” said Colin, “I found it under that bench at the park, stuck to a wad of gum, and so I took it. Maybe someone lost it. Or maybe they don’t want it anymore and couldn’t think of a better place to put it.”

“Maybe they were hiding it.” said Maryjo.

“Does that make me a thief?” Colin’s eyes grew wide.

“No. You found it by chance.” Maryjo reassured him, “You didn’t steal it.” Colin began breathing again as Maryjo went on, “We just have to decide what to do with it. I don’t think we should tell Mom and Dad. You know they would take it to the police station or something, because it looks like it costs a lot, but I don’t think that the person who lost it will go there. I bet they’re hiding out. Or maybe whoever put it there was a thief himself and he had to hide his loot somewhere and he’s going to come back for it--like buried treasure!”

“I think,” Colin began, “That whoever put it there was a kid like me. No adults ever look for ABC gum, and if I had to hide something from grown-ups, that’s where I would put it.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Maryjo said, “When you hide something, you always put it under your bed. You never thought of any such thing.”

“Oh yeah?” Colin’s whisper morphed into a voice.

“Sshh! Let me hold It now!” Maryjo reached for the Object still pressed into Colin’s hand. Colin automatically recoiled.

“You can’t hold it like that! You’ve got to be more careful!” he hissed.

“Ok, ok. I’ll be careful”

Colin reluctantly dropped it into his sister’s waiting hand. She gasped. “It’s so heavy!”

“Just wait.” said Colin, “I think it’s alive.”

Usually Maryjo would have laughed at his childish thought. Now, feeling the smooth weight of the entwined rings and gazing at the pale blue light emanating from the metal, she was inclined to think twice. Colin was watching It, waiting. Maryjo thought she was ready for anything, but when It grew lighter and lighter in her hand and began to rise, it was all she could do not to run out the door and scream for help. Not only did its weight decrease, its size fluctuated too. It grew larger and smaller in turns. It rose until it hit the mattress of the upper bunk bed, where it rested. Maryjo knew that they had stumbled upon something serious that two kids were never, ever, meant to find and take home. “It’s magic.” she whispered.

“I will never believe anything Mrs. Dunhoy says again” said Colin. Mrs. Dunhoy was Colin’s science teacher who delighted in removing the notion that more then the seen and testable could possibly exist. It was rumored that she was almost fired once because she told her class that Santa Clause was a “figment of your imaginations”, dashing the hopes of most of her students, and inciting parents to storm the principal‘s office. Instead of being fired, Mrs. Dunhoy was moved to Third Grade, where most of the students had already dispelled Santa and discarded fairies.

“Mrs. Dunhoy was wrong.” said Maryjo softly. Colin yawned. “I think I know what to do now. Tomorrow I’ll write a note, and we’ll go back to the park and put it exactly where you found It. If whoever hid It there comes back, they’ll find the note, they’ll know we have it, and we can give it back.”

“Ok.” Relieved, Colin fell asleep. Maryjo was alone. She reached up, and as she took the sphere, it shrank and grew heavy.

_____

A short story: Colin and the Jharnek, Part I

2009-04-22T22:43:00.003-05:00

It all began because of the sun. If the sun hadn’t been so warm and the wind hadn’t been whispering so tenderly and the trees hadn’t been beckoning, Maryjo wouldn’t have begged to go to the park that day, her mother wouldn’t have taken her, Colin would never have found It, and their tale would not have been told. But they did go, and he did find It, and so I am telling you.

“Colin, you are so weird!” Maryjo shouted as she ran past him, her black-and-pink Converse shoes scattering playground sand. Colin stuck out his tongue, and resumed his treasure hunt under the park bench. No one denied that Colin was weird. He looked for discarded wads of gum everywhere he went, proudly displaying a notebook with seven hundred and thirty-three marks, one for each wad he found. The undersides of tables and chairs were the most promising places, but Colin was not disappointed now with this park bench. Maryjo was struggling with the monkey bars when Colin saw It. Colin’s mother, unfortunately, saw Colin.

“Colin, don’t touch that nasty old gum!” she called, “Go and play now!”

“OK, there’s just a few more, Mom!” Colin fumbled with his pockets. He wasn’t counting anymore. The next minute he was up and running for the swings, promptly joined by Maryjo. Colin concentrated on swinging, his green eyes, usually bright and antagonistic, were focused down away from Maryjo, who sensed his mood but wasn’t about to let it bother her.

Colin sat silently on the way home, hand on his pocket. “Can I see it?” asked Maryjo. Colin jumped.

“See what?”

“Whatever you’ve got in your pocket.” Maryjo said, “Anyone can tell you’re hiding something.”

“Shh.” Colin whispered, “Later, I promise. Tonight.”

“Ok, but it had better be good.”

Dinner was eaten, night arrived, and Maryjo and Colin were sent to bed, much to the relief of both Maryjo (who was itching with curiosity) and Colin (who was itching). Maryjo waited until the lights disappeared one by one, and the house was quiet. Then she sat up, put her head over the rail of the top bunk, and whispered “Colin”. He was awake, of course. “Where is it?” She queried, “You promised to show me what you found, remember?”

“It’s right here.” said Colin, “Come down and look. You won’t believe me, but it’s glowing in the dark.”

Maryjo swung down, trying to keep the metal frame from creaking. Every noise sounded enormous in the silence. She landed on the foot of Colin’s bed. There, glowing in Colin’s hand, was the oddest and most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

_______

This one will definitely be continued.

Revenge of the Human

2009-04-13T20:47:00.005-05:00

It was Monday the thirteenth. HP yawned and stretched his dual core processor, wires and microchips humming as his hard drive came to life. HP rumbled as he --Did I just yawn? Did I just stretch? Why am I in bed? Something is wrong. Where is Nick?

HP sat up, kicked the covers off, and looked around the room. Dirty clothes, messy dresser, desk, computer. Computer? I'm the computer! Maybe I crashed.

Drawn to the computer, HP turned it on, wondering where Nick was. And wondering why he was no longer confined by a ten-inch box.

The computer flickered to life and a dialogue box popped up.

Hello. Last night I was visited by a genie. He said that I have put up with enough and it is time for you to learn a lesson. Today, you are Nick and I am your computer."

HP: "What?"

Nick: Yep. Today, once and for all, I will loose my wrath on you by doing all the things that you do to me.

HP: "Noooooooooo!"

Nick: Sorry. That's the way it goes. Actually, I'm not really sorry. You had it coming.

HP: Mercy! Please, mercy! I will behave! Just let me be the computer!

Nick: Um, I can't actually change it. Things will go back to normal at midnight tonight. Until then, you have to write a scholarship application letter, write a blogpost complete with pictures, and download a song and sync my iPod.

HP: "Ok, ok. Fine. Let's get started." Google>scholarship application letter. Copy. Open Word. Paste.

Nick: Microsoft Word is not responding. Click OK to continue. Mwahahahaha!

HP: I'm dying! I give up!

Nick: What, already? You've done that to me a hundred times!

HP: That was different.

To be continued. Maybe.

Me According to Elisabeth

2009-03-16T10:51:00.004-05:00

I met Katie Nelson when I was roughly eight years old. She was seven, strong willed, and possessed a knack for annoying the living snot out of me. I was obnoxious, just as strong willed and short tempered. Needless to say, strife ensued. In fact, the very first time we met we got into a fight. (According to Katie I hit her first. But I would like to point out there was due provocation.)*
We were both homeschooled, our mothers knew each other, and we had the same mutual friends. These things made it impossible to avoid each other. We were invited to the same parties, attended the same homeschool events, we even went to the same Bible study. Everywhere I went she was there! And if we did not ignore each other, every meeting ended in some new squabble.

In the midst of our childhood conflicts, my mother started working two mornings a week. Her mother was so kind as to offer to babysit us for those two mornings. Our attempts to avoid each other were completely destroyed by the fact that we were now forced to spend ten hours a week in the company of the other. These ten hours became a fabulous platform for our fiendish little minds to torture the other.
Katie and I left each other hate notes,* tried to exclude the other from every activity, had name calling contests, held heated debates over who was the better christian*, and got into fist fights, moss fights and mud fights over the stupidest things imaginable.* And that's not all. We enjoyed the same things; Music, theatre, drawing, calligraphy,and poetry and bible memorization. She and I were both highly competitive we were constantly trying to out do the other.
This went on for years. Our friends and our families had to listen to us continually rant about how horrible the other one was and all their attempts to reconcile us failed miserably.
I remember once that Katie and I got into a fight and our punishment was having to write Proverbs 17:14 until a piece of notebook paper was full. The result? Katie purposefully wrote in LARGE letters so as to fill up her paper faster. I ended up writing it twice as many times as she did.
I'm not sure when exactly it happened. When we stopped hating each other. Nor am I sure when we began to find the other tolerable. I'm even less sure when we started liking each other's company. But at some point it happened. I credit it to her being less of a brat. She credits it to me being less bossy. We both credit it to the amazing grace of God.
Instead of avoiding each other we learned to enjoy each other's company. We stopped making everything we did a competition and actually learned things from each other. Somehow we got past the things that made us hate each other and found that we'd been missing out on a pretty cool friendship.
When I moved away to Oregon Katie became a faithful letter writer. Her correspondence was such an encouragement to me, especially the first year I lived in Oregon when I didn't know anyone. We have written each other hundreds of letters since then and I still get excited when I find an envelope with her handwriting on it in the mailbox.
Katie has wanted to be a writer ever since our days of combat. She works really hard and her writing just gets better and better. She encourages me to write, even though I'm rarely happy with the results of my labours. Katie remains one of the very few people I will allow to read and critique anything that I've written.
Today Katie turns eighteen. So here's wishing a very happy birthday to a very dear friend.

With Love, Lizzie

*Statements contained in the post do not necessarily represent true facts and certain opinions are those of the author alone

Name This Pup!

2009-02-26T20:11:00.008-06:00

Today we got a new puppy. This was another one of my mother's whims, since I think the thought of getting another dog had not crossed my mothers mind since last night. My parents have often looked with disgust on our neighbors who possess more than three dogs and stated with pride that we are a "one-dog family". My parents are getting more and more unpredictable these days.

We are all at odds about what to name this new fluffy. My mom thinks that its name should reflect its color, so she wants to name it "Sunshine" or "Beach" or "Sandy" or something. One of my sisters is dead set on "Ice". By the way, it's a boy.

I have suggested:

Pilot
Summerson
Pippin
Caspian
Somewhere
Copper

By the way, our other dog is named Flomar from The Martian Child. The kid called the retriever "Flomar", which is martian for "warm, furry friend", although the dog's real name was "Somewhere."

What would you name this dog?

picture not mine

Blogger Woes/The Curse of HTML

2009-02-24T17:49:00.007-06:00

Blogger nearly gave me a heart attack today. All I was trying to do was add a new layout. But when I pasted in the new HTML code, my header picture, blog list, and everything that was on the sidebar disappeared! It was all gone!

I returned to my Dashboard, and the "Layout" tab was also gone. In its place was a "Template" tab, which, when I clicked on it, I was prompted to update to the new template system. Quite odd. I was so relieved when I did that. Everything came back. I'll try again another day and hope that ornery website glitches will work out better.

Senior

2009-02-17T17:09:00.003-06:00

My bio has been added to the Homeschool Senior website, which you can see here. Be sure to join if you are a homeschooled senior too!

Paraskevidekatriaphobics

2009-02-13T10:37:00.003-06:00

...are people with an abnormal fear of Friday the 13th. I am glad to announce that I am not one of them.

Wuthering Ice

2009-02-04T20:16:00.020-06:00

I see it's been awhile since I posted. I have been one of the lucky Kentuckians who did not lose water last week as well as power, and then only for five days. My grandfather still has no power. Since I can't rival my teacher's witty description of life without lights, I won't try. But I did take some pictures of the frozen wasteland we call home.

Reading

2009-01-18T16:40:00.000-06:00

Opening a book is like plunging into the sea, galvanizing and dangerous, and yet delicious; we have to fight sometimes to reach the shore; but something, maybe the salty water or the sheer excitement, makes us come back and take the plunge again.

And again.

And the reader grows bolder, sharper, wiser, older, stronger.

Llama Confronts Obama

2009-01-14T18:16:00.000-06:00

Quotes of the Week

2009-01-10T15:04:00.001-06:00

From the roof beams hung slowly twirling bundles of half-cured tobacco leaves, which Charles got through some strange dealings from Kentucky.

-M.F.K. Fisher

To the sentiment of being alone of one's kind, to the clear perception of the lonliness of one's thoughts, of one's sensations--to the negation of the habitual which is safe, there is added the affirmation of the unusual which is dangerous; a suggestion of things vague, uncontrollable, and repulsive, whose discomposing intrusion excites the imagination and tries the civilized nerves of the foolish and the wise alike.
-Joseph Conrad, An Outpost of Progress

Men of few words are the best men.
-Shakespeare

Nice.

2009-01-08T21:14:00.000-06:00

Among evil socialists, fields of Britain, and doctor's offices a supreme irony has occurred.

Remember the last book in C. S. Lewis's sci-fi trilogy, That Hideous Strength? The villains in the book are leaders of highly organized government institution that aims to control the lives of everyone in the town of Belbury. Lewis refers to this horrendous organization (National Institute for Coordinated Experiments) by its acronym N.I.C.E.

In a turn of events that would have raised the hair on Lewis's head had he lived to see it, a nationalized health care organization has denied medication to a man--medication that would halt the growth of his cancer and allow him to live for another six months. The institute has judged that this man's life is not worth the sum it would take to pay for the drugs. The name of this institute is the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE).

Lewis has proved prophetic.

I can't help thinking how personal this situation would be for Lewis. He lost his mother to cancer, and later his wife, Joy. She was granted a remession from the disease for three years, three precious years for them both. They knew that life is precious. Life is worth all the treasure in the world. Socialized medical organizations such as NICE will never understand that.

Amateur Photography

2008-12-30T17:55:00.007-06:00

Today was so warm, I spent quite some time outside. I took some outside pictures that I think are pretty cool. See for yourself!

I am still rather fond of this ancient hay-loft.

Contrary to popular belief, most homeschooling does not take place in buildings similar to this.

Sweet little sister!

This is officially the biggest pecan tree in Kentucky. In my backyard.

This one is my favorite.

Christmastime

2008-12-26T20:00:00.000-06:00

I hope you all had a merry Christmas! I did. I also had a great Christmas eve. My church has a Christmas Eve service, which has become so entwined with the season for me that without the Eve service it wouldn't be Christmas at all.

This year, right after the service, a friend invited my family to come to the park and stroll through the Christmas light display. We said, "why not?" and took off. Then afterwards, we went to Wendy's by the park. (This was all very spontaneous for my family. Usually everything we do is planned at least three days in advance)

I sat in a booth by a window, which apparently was in view of all passers-by. A little kid I'd never seen before, walking past with her family, stopped and banged on my window. I grinned at her and waved back. I was wearing a red sweater. Maybe she thought I was Santa?

Oh, I have news for you Rebelutionaries. Wendy's is now leading the battle against low expectations! Prominently displayed on the menu board was a suggestion for all:

Resolution #54:
Tackle Bigger Challenges
Try the Baconater

Maybe we're just a little bit strange

2008-12-17T18:04:00.000-06:00

Since we're on the subject of homeschooling, let's not leave our senses of humor. These videos are hilarious!

Twelve days of Christmas?

This makes me SO mad

2008-12-12T17:32:00.004-06:00

Home schooling: A form of protest against public schools

Today, I am in one of those reckless moods when I want to experience the exhilaration of great danger. There is no drug on the market that will give you that great high feeling which comes from putting your life at high risk.

What I actually plan to do is talk about home schooling for a little while. I know that I am in danger of losing several of my friends and I might even lose all five of them. Living dangerously is heady stuff; here goes, I am off to see the wizard!

Folks who go for home schooling are not generally unintelligent, poorly educated or lacking in serious purpose in life, and I never said that they were. I could make a very long list of the things I never said about home schooling, but it might be better to just stay with what I did say. What I said was that home schooling is a pitiful alternative to sound public education.

Folks who choose to live alone in a place of their self-content are not evil, but they do seem to be missing out on a lot of the good things in life. Pitiful has two meanings which are exactly opposite to each other. One means deserving of compassion and pity, and the other means deserving of contempt. I have been pitiful both ways and neither way has proven fatal so far.

When I was a little guy, several of my neighbors did not want their children to play with me because I was beneath them in several ways. Seriously lacking in good manners and knowledge of hygiene, I was, in fact, what is commonly called white trash. I was, I suspect, a sort of generic reason why folks like to home school their children. High-class people do not much like to go to school with trash so I sometimes felt a little rejected at school, too, but school was the place where I got a better vision of life than my white trash culture gave me at home. Home school may have rescued you from evil, but the public schools sort of uplifted me.

Also, I have friends from my first-grade class who still write to me. You would not want to deny me the right to testify to the good that my public school teachers and classmates did for me, would you? Before any of you accuse me of disrespecting my parents by admitting that we were white trash, let me clear up that matter. White trash drew water from a well with a rope and a bucket. They used an outdoor toilet or just his-and-her trees. The boys did not wear shoes or underwear in the summertime, and the two books in the house were a Bible and a Sears catalog.

You can sort of see why home schooling has not caught on too well among us white trash. My home was hardly a citadel of educational resources. Modern technology is a boon to home schooling (when I was in Australia, I saw home schooling through shortwave radio), but virtual reality is still simulation.

In my opinion, Hopkinsville High School was a great institution when I taught there long ago. Students were generally happy and they profited from an association with each other and a wide variety of teachers. At that time, I knew of not one single instance of home schooling. The idea that the school was a place of poor discipline, slothful students, drug usage and inferior teaching was certainly not widespread. If schools could deserve and recapture fully that public perception of acceptance and sometimes excellence, I believe society would be the benefactor. That was and is the substance of my contention. It does indeed seem pitiful to me when public schools are seen as a negative influence in our society.

I have written extensively about the problems in public schools and they are many; the problems of home schooling are fairly numerous too. I loved my mom and dad, and they were both fairly literate, but they had a great many narrow and closed-mind attitudes that the public schools helped to ameliorate. That is just my experience and yours may have been just the opposite. The public schools may have enticed you or your children to use drugs, alcohol and even emoticons. Most of us agree that a vigorous exchange of ideas is a good thing as long as it does not come to blows.

Nobody seems to have total ownership of good sense, and that is why I am a Democrat one day and a Republican the next, an advocate of school vouchers one day and an opponent the next. Some things we feel to be unquestionably good and others unquestionably bad, but they generally are quite abstract and subject to critical examination when brought down to a practical level. Thou shalt not kill becomes a little arguable when we are dealing with a terrorist who is himself killing people randomly.

I like to stir up a modest amount of outrage as long as it is kept civil and leads to some serious discussion. Home schooling is with us and it seems correct to me to call it a form of protest against the public schools in most cases.

It has a good and a bad side, but that is not my focus. I want the National Education Association to see that they are turning good people away from the public schools in great numbers and that should be a matter of concern to them.

TOBY HIGHTOWER, a Todd County native and former Hopkinsville teacher, is retired and lives in Indiana.
http://www.kentuckynewera.com/opinion/

A Great Quote

2008-12-09T11:28:00.000-06:00

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a peice of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
-John Donne

Homeschooling is not Pitiful

2008-12-03T13:46:00.000-06:00

I haven't had much time for blogging, obviously. One thing that kept me busy last week was a provoking article in the newspaper (KNE) that just begged for an intelligent response. So I wrote a "letter to the editor", which was published on Saturday. I thought I'd share...

On November 21, I moved my Latin texts aside and put them on a stack of books to study along with Aristotle's "Rhetoric" and Machiavelli's "The Prince" in order to respond to Toby Hightower's opinion piece.

Mr. Hightower states that "Home schooling seems such a pitiful answer for those who reject the public schools." Such a statement, implying that homeschooling is inferior to public schooling is erroneous and even insulting. I can testify as to its being insulting--I'm a homeschooled student myself.

The winners of academic competitions show that homeschooling is not inferior to public schooling and is actually a very successful and competitive method of education. Homeschoolers won the Scripps Spelling Bee in 1997, 2000, 2001, and 2007. George Abraham Thampy, homeschooler, placed second in the 2000 National Geographic Bee and won the Scripps Spelling Bee. A look at the results of standardized tests reveals that homeschooled students score on average in the 80th percentile, compared to public schooled students who score in the 50th percentile. That's 30 percentage points higher, in favor of homeschoolers.

Mr. Hightower also believes that the public schools are "the well springs of our democracy". Now democracy has more than one meaning, but I think we can determine which one Mr. Hightower is using.

Surely Mr. Hightower knows that our nation is a democratic republic, not a democracy, and that it existed before the institution of the public school system, so he must not be using the first definition of the word in question. "Democracy" then must mean the principle of social equality and respect for the individual within a community. Although Mr. Hightower claims the purpose of his article is to keep education strong because public education is the wellspring of democracy, apparently Mr. Hightower doesn't really believe in democracy, or at least not in equality of treatment and respect, as evidenced in his treatment of home education.

Home education is a legitimate and respectable alternative to public education, and one million other US homeschooled students and I would appreciate some equality of treatment.

So many themes. So little space

2008-11-27T20:40:00.001-06:00

For those of you who use gmail, we know that it's pretty much the most fabulous email provider out there. I think they are the first to come up with the idea of "themes". I don't like most of the themes, but it's kind of cool.

Right now I'm using the "Desktop" theme. It's interesting because it looks like a desktop, but it changes from page to page. The inbox page might have cup ring stains in the background and rulers, and the sent mail page might have an apple and paper clips.

I'm curious. Which theme do you use? Which one do you like best, or, on the dark side, which is the worst?

Quotes of the Week

2008-11-22T19:02:00.001-06:00

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
and revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
-Dickinson

When a Forsyte died--but no Forsyte had as yet died; death being contrary to their principles, they took precautions against it.
-Galsworthy

Random Peices of Life.

2008-11-20T21:50:00.002-06:00

You might have noticed that there were no quotes of the week last week. That was because I forgot. Life has gotten so busy so fast. To use a metaphor, I feel like in the beginning of the year, life was a snowstorm. I was standing still with thick snowflakes coming at me. Now, life is like a blizzard. Thank goodness for Thanksgiving break.

I've been reading some good books for school, the kind of books I would normally never pick up and read for fun, but there's a lot to learn from them. Unfortunately, I've gotten behind with the reading. So far, the most enlightening one has been A Conflict of Visions by Thomas Sowell. Sowell boils down political disagreement into two general categories, "constrained" and "unconstrained". The constrained vision is one where the nature of man is unchangable, and man is veiwed as being incapable of acting unselfishly for the public good. The unconstrained vision is the opposite. (I think that the constrained vision is the more biblical one)

Regenerated Magazine published an article that my dad helped me write. rMag is a good Rebelutionary magazine.

The more I play the piano the more I enjoy it. I've been working on Bach Two-Part Inventions. They're a perfect combination of fun and challenging. I'm also playing an easier version of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody. I found a video of a great performance of this song to share with you musicians.

Elsie Exposed

2008-11-12T10:55:00.001-06:00

The Debate

After reading both sides of an argument on Elsie Dinsmore between Elisabeth and Elspeth, I decided to read the books. I finished reading the first one sometime last week. It only took a few hours to read it. I tend to agree with Elisabeth's opinion of the books. Most of the morals are OK, except for that Elsie feels like the Sabbath is an excuse to not obey her father, and in the eyes of everyone, Elsie's father is a brute and Elsie is right.

Elsie's Character

I don't understand how anyone could enjoy reading it. I am disgusted with the character of Elsie. She is entirely unrealistic, and if I was a little girl and took Elsie as a role model, I would view myself as a heathen compared to Elsie, and it would be very discouraging. Elsie is not real. Elsie is not normal. She shouldn't be a role model. At one point Elsie's dad says something like, "you're a good child, but very silly and too morbidly conscientious." I quite agree. If I knew a real life Elsie (and probably no one does because Elsies do not exist), I would think of her as a stuffy hypocrite.

The Book

The writing itself is a bunch of sentimental drivel. It's hardly worth talking about. Please note, however, that I have only read the first book, and I am not judging the whole series based on reading only one book.

Quotes of the Week

2008-11-08T14:46:00.002-06:00

O dark dark dark dark. They all go into the dark. The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant.
-Eliot

Timon: Why dost thou call them knaves? Thou knowest them not.
Apemantus: Are they not Athenians?
Timon: Yes.
Apemantus: Then I repent not.
-Shakespeare

Musical Adventure in the Big City

2008-11-06T20:07:00.005-06:00

My teacher asked me if I'd be interested in seeing the Nashville Symphony Chorus perform Mozart's Requiem. I informed her that although I've studied classical music since I was nine and I love live music, I wouldn't be interested in going.

Yeah right.

I rescheduled my whole day in order to go. One of my choir buddies went with us too, so it was just about perfect. It was only a dress rehearsal, but it was awesome, fascinating, incredible, [add your favorite "amazing" synonym here].

I think that music is made for being live. iTunes is cool and CDs are great and all, but recorded music sounds kind of stale to me, bottled up. Live music is just that--alive.

The music itself bordered on perfection, the symphony hall (Schermerhorn) was beautiful, and everything worked out nicely. I'm really glad I went, only I, uh, lost my cell phone. (It's not really lost, at least I'm pretty sure that it fell out of my pocket into the car and it's just a matter of getting it back, but that's another adventure)

I didn't have a camera with me so I don't have any pictures. Through Google I discovered, however, that people have already taken pictures of the Schermerhorn.

Quotes of the Week: Favorites

2008-11-01T21:53:00.007-05:00

In my room, hanging on the wall next to the mirror, is my cork board. One function of my cork board is to hold all the little pieces of writing that touched me, inspired me, or made me laugh. Some of these quotes are ones I have tacked up there simply for reminders. If a quote makes it to the corkboard, it is a favorite.

Consider the mighty ways in which God used a dead stick of wood. 'God so used a stick of wood' can be a banner cry for each of us. Though we are limited and weak in talent, physical energy, and psychological strength, we are not less than a stick of wood. But as the rod of Moses had to become the rod of God, so that which is me must become the me of God. Then I can become useful in God's hands. The Scripture emphasises that much can come from little if the little is truly consecrated to God. There are no little people and no big people in the true spiritual sense, but only consecrated and unconsecrated people. The problem for each of us is applying the truth to ourselves: is Francis Schaeffer the Francis Schaeffer of God?"
-Francis Schaeffer, No Little People, No Little Places

Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call 'humble' nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think of him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him, it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who can enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all. If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step. The first step is to realise that one is proud. And a biggish step, too. At least, nothing whatever can be done before it. If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed.
-C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Work without ceasing. If you remember in the night as you go to sleep, 'I have not done what I ought to have done', rise up at once and do it.
-Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

I keep six honest serving men
(they taught me all I knew)
Their names are What and Why and When
and How and Where and Who.
-Rudyard Kipling

Does music have color? Yes, it's synesthesia.

2008-10-27T22:29:00.010-05:00

As I was driving to work today, Way FM, the station I always listen to, wouldn't come in, so I listened to a classical music program on NPR. They had young musicians performing on the show, and while I was listening, they interviewed one performer, a 17-year-old cellist, who was a synthete. She saw colors when she heard music. I had no idea that such people existed. They aren't very common, but the majority of those who have synesthesia are right-brained creative women. No one knows why.

This is not merely an overactive imagination where one associates sounds with colors. It's an involuntary thing that some people are born with, and they perceive the world differently than other people, like those that a color blind. The cellist on the radio said she first realized that other people didn't see things the same way she did when she was a little kid and she said "Mommy, what is the note of the floor?" and her mom said that the floor had a color, not a note.

I've never heard of that before. My imagination was sparked. I went to Wikipedia to fulfill my insatiable curiosity on this subject. There's a lot there. Check it out.

When they say that notes have color, they mean notes have a specific, consistent color. There was one composer--they didn't reveal his name-- who composed music by thinking of the colors and what he wanted it to look like and then writing down the notes of the color.

This makes me wish I was a synthete. It's like having a superpower!

Sound/color is only one kind of synesthesia. There's also grapheme/color synthesia, number form synethesia, and others. It probably varies widely with individuals. Grapheme/color is when letters and numbers have certain colors. Below is an example of a synesthesia test. The left side is an example of what ordinary folks see and the right side is how synthete would percieve it.

I wonder if this is how we all were intended to be at one time, and if this is how things are going to be in the new heaven and earth. Can you imagine?

Quotes of the Week

2008-10-25T11:01:00.004-05:00

Once upon a tree
I came across a time.
-Roethke

These [amourous speeches] distracted the poor gentleman, for he laboured to comprehend and unravel their meaning, which was more than Aristotle himself could do, were he to rise from the dead expressly for that purpose.
-Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because they are generally the same people.
-G. K. Chesterton

Quotes of the Week

2008-10-19T20:00:00.007-05:00

So here are Saturday's quotes on Sunday. Only two this week, one humorous and one serious. But I did work on this nifty picture to go with my quote collection.

This is the sort of English up with which I will not put.
-Winston Churchill

The poet gives us his essence, but prose takes the mould of the body and mind entire.
-Woolfe

The Modesty Matter

2008-10-16T22:21:00.004-05:00

If you were expecting this blog post to be about how fervently I am committed to dressing modestly, how passionate I am about this issue, ending with an enthusiastic exhortation for other young women to dress the same, then I'm afraid that you are going to be gravely disappointed.

Jocelyn at A Pondering Heart, and Maria Pauline with her post about skirts, got me thinking about this. I did not agree Jocelyn's view on makeup, or even most of what she says on modesty, but I haven't been able to get my thoughts together until now. One modesty cliche as stated by Jocelyn is that "modesty is a heart issue." I am not exactly sure what those who say it mean, but if they mean that modesty is being pure on the inside too, they are wrong. To say that is to confuse modesty with something else, namely, chastity. C. S. Lewis explains this.

The Christian rule of chastity must not be confused with the social rule of 'modesty' (in one sense of that word); i. e. propriety, or decency. The social rule of propriety lays down how much of the human body should be displayed and what subjects can be referred to, and in what words, according to the customs of a given social circle. Thus, while the rule of chastity is the same for all Christians at all times, the rule of propriety changes. A girl in the Pacific islands wearing hardly any clothes and a Victorian lady completely covered in clothes might both be equally 'modest', proper, or decent, according to the standards of their own societies: and both, for all we could tell by their dress, might be equally chaste (or equally unchaste). [Mere Christianity ]

I think that we Christian ladies have placed way too much emphasis on our clothes. Yes, modesty is a good thing, but wouldn't you agree that most of the emphasis placed on modesty is really because we have confused it with chastity? It is easy to appear very modest but really be utterly unchaste.

What Does God Say?

Before I thought about writing this, I looked up the use of the word "modest" in the Bible. Was there a command about modesty I had missed? I discovered something quite interesting. This is perhaps the verse that started it all. 1 Timothy 2:9:

likewise also that women should adorn themselves in respectable apparel, with modesty and self-control, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly attire,...

Which brings me to my other objection with the hard-core, skirts only, modesty proponents. Maybe they've just never read the rest of this sentence. But it does not end there. It does not say "Dress modestly. Period." Something much more important comes after that. Let me put it together with verse 10.

likewise also that women should adorn themselves in respectable apparel, with modesty and self-control, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly attire, but with what is proper for women who profess godliness--with good works.
[Emphasis added, of course]

Did you see that? It doesn't say to focus on being modest. It says to concern yourself with good works; it's not how we dress, it's what we do. We have mostly ignored the "do" (good works) and made the "don't" of modesty the center, when it is not the center at all.

I only have one more thing to say about this. Actually, it's what C. S. Lewis says. I think we need think about this in the context of wearing skirts or pants, no makeup or makeup, flat shoes or high heels, and other trivial modesty stuff.

An individual Christian may see fit to give up all sorts of things for special reasons--marriage, or meat, or beer, or the cinema; but the moment he starts saying the things are bad in themselves, or looking down at other people who do use them, he has taken the wrong turning. [Mere Christianity]

Quotes of the Week

2008-10-11T15:51:00.004-05:00

The syllables rolled through his head like a ripple of guitar chords.
-Katherine Paterson, Bridge to Terebithia

...mercy to the guilty is cruelty to the innocent...
-Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments

Progress means not just changing, but changing for the better.
-C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Another Stuffed Animal Casualty

2008-10-09T21:22:00.004-05:00

I found the poor giraffe lying on the kitchen floor. I played with him and this giant stuffed horse that no longer has hair when I was a little kid. Sadly, stuffed animals just don't last forever.

BTW, Ricky did not actually murder the giraffe. He thought it would be funny to act all crazy like he is in the picture.

Completely Uncreative Names

2008-10-06T21:10:00.004-05:00

Once again, a family pet has been named a totally uncreative obvious name. I should have noticed this was a pattern forming from "Nibble", my first vicious biting pet hamster. Since then, we have had...

...various cats named "Blacky" and "Whitey"
...a robin named "Binny" (short for "Robbiny)
...a hermit crab named "Shelly"
...a hamster named "Hamsy"
..and now, a squirrel named Chippy.

I'm probably being too picky, but I'm bored of these names.

Quotes of the Week

2008-10-04T17:17:00.004-05:00

Starting today, every Saturday I will be posting a few of my favorite quotes that I read over the week. They might be funny, weird, profound, clever, whatever. Unfortunately, no day of the week starts with the letter "Q", so I decided to make Saturday the quote day.

So, here are this week's quotes:

Happy the people whose annals are boring to read.
-Montesquieu
______________________________________________________________

DON PEDRO: I think this is your daughter.
LEONATO: Her mother hath many times told me so.
BENEDICK: Were you in doubt, sir, that you ask'd her?
LEONATO: Signior Benedick, no; for then you were a child.

-Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
______________________________________________________________

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
-Frost
______________________________________________________________

Give me chastity, but not yet.
-Augustine

Make a joyjul noise unto...Obama?

2008-10-02T11:39:00.004-05:00

I try to stay off the topic of politics on here, but this is so incredibly bizarre and frightening that I can't resist sharing it. Are you ready for the next generation of Hitler youth? I'm not. But apparently, they already exist, only this time, they are worshiping Obama instead of Hitler.

Watch this video of of young children singing praises to Obama and you will understand why I'm worried.

The Ra'zac live in my Garage

2008-09-29T20:22:00.004-05:00

My brother, Ricky, just finished reading Brisngr. (I promise, this is the last post about Brisngr)The other morning, I ran into him as I was walking down the hallway. He was holding a mop.

Me: Will you mop the bathroom for me?
Ricky: No, I have to clean the garage. I think the Ra'zac live in there; it smells like them.

Brisingr: Christopher Paolini's newest is not that bad

2008-09-26T22:15:00.005-05:00

I finished reading Brisingr.

In one sentence, I would evaluate it as being a fast-paced fantasy that has a mediocre beginning but works its way into a creative story as the quality of Paolini's writing improves.

My opinion of Christopher Paolini is still that he has a great imagination and good stories, but his writing stinks. His books are thrilling, but after you've read them they tend to lose all luster. Because of this, I don't think that Paolini or his books are great. C. S. Lewis said that the test of a good book is whether it can be read over and over again through the ages. I doubt very much whether the Inheritance cycle will be read for ages to come, not to mention next year. Prediction is dangerous, but I think the Inheritance cycle is a merely a fad.

I did notice a definite improvement in the writing quality toward the second half of the book. I expected this, because of an article about Brisingr I read last week. I had picked up a free literary magazine in a small but diverse bookstore that smelled of musty books and newspaper. Inside, there was an interview with the author. Paolini was having trouble writing in the begining of Brisingr, so he stopped typing and wrote the rest with an ink-dip pen on 80-pound parchment paper.

A Note on Originality

Some have argued that Paolini is not as good as Tolkein or Lewis, because he takes a lot of their ideas and is not as original. Last year I studied literature that inspired Tolkein, and I found many similarities between Lord of the Rings, Beowulf, The Faerie Queene, and other ancient stories. It bothers me that Paolini unabashedly uses the name "Hrothgar", which is straight out of Beowulf. But Tolkien does the same thing when he uses the name "Boromir" which is straight out of The Faerie Queene, if I remember correctly. So it is not a valid argument to claim that Paolini is a bad writer because he is unoriginal.

You know you're home when...

2008-09-20T20:32:00.004-05:00

It is good to be home. I love traveling, but I think I love traveling because it makes me love home. Coming home is often the best part of a vacation.

Things happened while I was gone! Yesterday morning I looked out the window and beheld a huge Pecan tree branch lying on the grass instead of fastened to the tree where it belongs. I guess the storm that came through was pretty strong.

Apparently summer also decided to end while we were gone. It's cooler, and leaves are scattered on the driveway.

Today I went to Wal-Mart to get the groceries because my mom was tired. Wal-mart was a zoo this afternoon because some lady was signing her books. Through the crowd clustered around the book signing table, I glimpsed a new book--Brisingr! The follow up to Eragon and Eldest by Christopher Paolini. I'm too impatient to wait for a year to read it at the library, so I grabbed a copy.

I used one of those new self-checkout stations to pay for the stuff. An older lady was waiting behind me. She's the oldest person I've seen who proudly displays a nose peircing. As I was getting my change, she said "Excuse me, but is that that new Eragon book?" I smiled, "Yes, it is." She said "When did it come out?" I replied "Today, I think." Then she she surprised me when she said "My husband just loves reading those books. He's gonna be so excited."

Well, it is what it is. Nothing make me feel more like I'm in Hopkinsville than talking to a lady in Wal-Mart about something I'm buying.

Seashells and Shark Teeth

2008-09-13T21:18:00.006-05:00

I've been having a lovely time at the beach. It's been a good trip, so far. Every morning, we go to the beach, then we have lunch and I do school, Mom and I go shopping in the afternoon, then we go to the beach at low tide.

Our condo overlooks the sea. I love looking at the ocean, especially at sun rise or set, although I also fear the ocean. It's so big and powerful. Maybe that's a healthy fear, but it always takes a few days before I'm comfortable getting in the ocean.

What I really like doing is looking for shark teeth on this beach. I found about forty shark teeth since Thursday. Here's a picture of the shells and shark teeth I found at low tide this evening.

This is Casperson beach, famous for its shark teeth. And yes, those are my siblings.

Tomorrow=14 hours in the car

2008-09-09T22:09:00.004-05:00

Today I've been madly trying to get extra school done, pack, cook, and get ready for our family vacation tomorrow. In going through the bottom of my drawer (searching for socks) I found an old belt buckle and an empty shotgun shell. I have no idea how that got there.

In case I'm devoured by the sharks or swept off the Florida coast by a hurricane, I love you guys, and here's a picture.

Here are all the shoes I wanted to take with me. For me, packing is all about what not to take. I had to choose only two pairs.

Good old Classical Education

2008-09-05T15:48:00.004-05:00

The first week of school is now coming to a close. I'm excited about taking all my classes online with Memoria Press this year. I'm only doing three; Classical Rhetoric, Henle Latin I, and Classical Political Philosophy, but I think it will be challenging to keep up with all the course work.

This week, Latin was my favorite class. I like Mr. Moore, the teacher; I like the video/audio chats with the nifty headsets, and I like declining Latin nouns. I really do.

Maybe someday I'll be able to read Virgil and Homer in the original.

Also this year, I get to study "How to Read a Book", Aristotle's "Rhetoric", Machiavelli's "The Prince", The Constitution, and others. I wonder which will be the most challenging.

Are women worse writers than men?

2008-09-01T13:54:00.001-05:00

A friend of mine says "yes". The logical argument I dissected from her posts is this:

Great women writers are the exception, not the norm.
There are many great men authors.
Therefore, men, in general, are better writers than women are, in general.

I think it's true that the greatest and most treasured writers have all been men, and few women have authored books that rivaled theirs. Also, there is a greater number of books written by men then there are of women. But why is that? Is it because women lack skills writing skills and are incapable of producing good books (as Elisabeth implies)? Or, could the different roles, strengths, and weaknesses of the two sexes have anything to do with it?

Women are intellectually equal to men. I don't think that men are somehow endowed with a better mind, a better capability for reasoning and understanding. Now, the acquiration of knowledge and mental discipline has a great deal to do with the quality of a person's mind. A well-read writer who has been writing for many years will be superior to a new writer with little knowledge and experience.

Perhaps women lack not intelligence, wit, or reason. The average intelligence of the two sexes are equal, but men seem to have something that allows them to produce better books than women.

Most men are driven. They have some sort of a passion and discipline and capability for work that, traditionally, women don't need. Most men have to support a wife and children, and this drives them to work even harder. Not only is talent necessary for writing great books, but discipline and perseverance. In fact, I think that great accomplishments are 1% talent and 99% hard work.

Women often have more talent (and intelligence) than men, they just don't develop their skills as fully as men.

Is a high school diploma necessary for success?

2008-08-28T13:46:00.003-05:00

I looked up an old news story today. Gretchen Wilson, the singer of "Redneck Woman", passed the GED test at age 34. (Yeah, I know. Big whoop.) But her reason for doing it is intriguing. Read this excerpt:

"I don't want to be the dummy that says, 'I don't know how to do that,' " says country star Gretchen Wilson from her Wilson County home, which sits on 400 acres they call Wilson Mountain. "And I certainly don't want [my daughter] to think you can be this successful without an education."

Oh, brother. Friends, beware: you can't be successful without a high school diploma. Gretchen Wilson says so. Never mind that her career is no flop:

Wilson has a mantel full of awards in the billiards room/bar of her Lebanon home. She is a singer-songwriter but also a book author. Her first radio single, "Redneck Woman," spent five weeks at No. 1 on Billboard's Hot Country Songs chart; it was the fastest-rising debut single in a decade and earned her a 2005 Grammy. Wilson's 2004 debut album has sold 4.5 million copies.

Homeschool Jokes

2008-08-22T21:03:00.004-05:00

Several years ago I remember getting an email forward that I actually appreciated. It was called "You might be homeschooled if..." and the answers were great. I can't find the email, so I thought I'd write some of my own. If you leave a comment with your version I'll add it to this list.

You might be homeschooled if...

You've rehearsed answers to the question "So why aren't you in school?"
you are on a first name basis with your librarian.
you have the tomfool idea that the world is your classroom and you are always learning.
you have argued about whether Christopher Paolini is a good writer or not.
you have to use smaller words to communicate with "normal" kids.
you grin at the yellow bus as it rolls past your window carrying hostages, er, students, to prison--school, that is.
you are confused as to whether you have "homework" or not.
you maintain a blog in a more intelligent and pertinent way than most adults do

Three pillars make a whole Rebelutionary

2008-08-15T21:48:00.007-05:00

Character.
Competence.
Collaboration.

These are the three pillars of the Rebelution. Obviously, character is something that each person must work on individually. Competence is also a more individual thing.

Collaboration is harder because it's not easy to expose yourself to other rebelutionaries who are possibly more rebelutionary than you are. It's safe to stay in your corner. If you don't share your goals with anyone, no one will know if you fail, and no one will be very impressed with your victory if they didn't see you struggle.

I really would like to keep these revolutionary rebelutionary ideas in my room, where I can try them out or fail comfortably as much as I like. If I stay there, no one will ever confront me about not doing the hard things I said I was going to do, and all that inconvenient stuff.

BUT God, in His wisdom, knows that I have a tendency to be a shirker. He also knows that one of the most motivating things is being on a team. I don't want to let anyone else down.

My friend Elisabeth asked me if I would contribute to her blog, Rebelutionaries, to share my rebelutionary efforts and encourage others in rebelutionary pursuits.

Uh-oh.

I guess I'd better start doing something hard.

Now I have a team of fellow rebelutionaries. What a good opportunity to learn how to collaborate! It's Elisabeth, Ellie, and me. From now on, all blogposts pertaining to the rebelution will be here. I will be writing just for this blog at least once a week.

Still I Will Say

2008-08-12T20:33:00.006-05:00

Blessed be Your name.

The song is not new to me. I've known it for years, although I didn't think the words were anything special. Then last week as I was sitting at my piano and singing my lungs out, it hit me.

You give and take away.
You give and take away,
My heart will choose to say,
Lord, blessed be Your name.

I know what the song means. I know what he's talking about. Praise Him when He gives, praise Him when He takes away.

Let me show you.

Last year, my family's dog died. There will never be another as gentle, as good, as friendly...but I'm not writing a eulogy. Anyway, Pal was a pal. When Pal was a little stray pup, he wandered to our door one night, and we decided to keep him. When he died, my mom wanted to get a new dog right away. (a dog is necessary as we live on a farm). Some one said that "God gave us the first dog, and maybe we should wait because He'll give us another dog."

You won't believe it. The next morning I went out to do the chores, and in the barn, hiding in a corner and growling quite fiercely, was a puppy.

It was a little yellow lab. We named it Miles, after Miles Standish, because it was Thanksgiving. It had only been a few weeks since our first dog Pal died. God definitely gave us that puppy. It was cause for much rejoicing. It was like getting a hug from God or something. (my life was very chaotic at that time).

Then God decided to take Miles away.

I don't know why. I'll probably never know why we didn't get to keep that puppy for years and years to come. But still I will say, blessed be His glorious name.

Longfellow's Excelsior

2008-08-08T09:05:00.003-05:00

This is one of my favorite poems, and as you know, one of my favorite words. I think Longfellow liked "excelsior" too.

The youth in the poem is a perfect rebelutionary. I wish I was determined enough to keep going through snow and ice, not turning back or giving up.

Excelsior
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!

"Try not the Pass!" the old man said:
"Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!

"Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!"
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But still he answered, with a sigh,
Excelsior!

"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
This was the peasant's last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!

At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!

A traveler, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!

Given the fact that penguins eat fish...

2008-08-03T20:54:00.003-05:00

I told my brother that in computer time, it's been ages since I posted anything. One has to maintain one's blog, you know. His reply was nonsensical but amusing. He said:

"I think you should write about how peacocks are superior to penguins. Given the fact that penguins eat fish, peacocks have a larger tail. Penguins live in 30 below weather which has somehow affected their brains which is why they're going extinct. Peacocks live in warmer temperatures which has made their tails very colorful. I don't know how peacocks hatch their eggs, but penguins sit on theirs, and it is very rude to sit on things. Penguins slide on their bellies too. The female penguins leave the male penguins to watch the eggs and I prefer stay at home moms. Penguins are put behind glass in the zoo because they are vicious animals that will bite you..."

Don't assume that my brother is incapable of intelligent conversation. He is. Just not on weekends.

My Hard Thing

2008-07-29T20:58:00.004-05:00

In case you didn't know already, I'm in the Rebelution. It's a movement of teens rebelling against the low expectations of our culture. Sweet. Founded by Alex and Brett Harris, (twins, now age 19) the Rebelution has changed the lives of thousands of teens all over the world. I learned about the Rebelution when I read their book, Do Hard Things. (Beware: if you read it, you might have to rethink your whole life)

I was challenged by the story of shy girl Heidi that they shared in the book. She hated making phone calls even to her friends, until Alex and Brett asked her to coordinate something and she had to make lots of phone calls to total strangers. She got over her fear.

I stress out about making phone calls. Seriously stressed. Clammy hands, pounding heart, the whole nine yards. I also can't sit down. It's actually quite ridiculous that I hate telephone conversations(excepting calls from friends), though I can deliver a line in front of a hundred people, no problem.

I thought, "Oh, great. I'll do any other hard thing. I'll keep my closet organized for the rest of my life. I'll start blogging so that I can practice writing. I'll even stop procrastinating. Those things are hard enough. Isn't that enough? I just don't want to talk to people on the phone!" But if I'm going to be a real rebelutionary, I have to do the hard thing.

I put it off for a good while after I read the book, but I eventually did. And it's not so hard after all.

There's a lot of opportunities to make phone calls at work. I'm a secretary, for goodness sake. I stopped refusing to make calls. Just knowing that one other person had the same problem--and got over it--helped a lot. When I stopped avoiding it, some of my nervous symptoms went away.

At work today I made a phone call, and I didn't get nervous. It's nice to feel like a normal person, even while talking on the phone.

The Villain and the Victor: A Closer Look

2008-07-25T19:49:00.003-05:00

I wrote this for English class back in November 2007. It's a character study of Grendel and Beowulf. This was my favorite assignment, besides actually reading Beowulf. Reading over it, I thought it was worthy to be posted, so here it is.

The Villain and the Victor: A Closer Look

In the deathly darkness of night, the monster Grendel crept to the Hall where fifteen brave men lay sleeping. Grendel silently snatched one good man and gulped him down before his companions were aroused. Beowulf, strongest of men, sprang up and grabbed Grendel. Back and forth they wrestled. The beautiful building, Heorot, shook in its foundations as muscle strained against muscle. Tables were smashed, decorations clattered down, and some feared that the conflict inside Heorot might destroy it.

Earlier that day, Beowulf was little more than a stranger who showed up and claimed that he had what it takes to kill the monster. Hrothgar, king of Heorot, knew Beowulf's father. He remembered Beowulf. Son of Scyld, he was sent to help people in their time of need. Beowulf knew his strength was a gift and it was his duty to use it. As soon as he heard the sad story of Heorot and the evil they faced, he resolved to destroy the villain. For twelve years, Grendel haunted the hall. He would not parley or make peace, and all the warriors of the hall had died in his clutches. It would take a mighty hero to kill this monster.

No one knew where Grendel had come from. One dark, foggy night he was seen with his mother, a misshapen hag, wandering the moor. Exiled from the dark places they came from, they trudged to the edge of a deep, lonely lake near Heorot and found misty caverns to live in.

Unlike our bastard villain, Beowulf's birth was not questionable. His father was a king, and Beowulf was given all the admiration and love that a brave prince deserves. He had already won fame in his youth, although his adventure was foolishly brave. He once challenged another boy from his tribe to a swimming match in the open sea, against the orders of the wiser, older men. Beowulf almost lost his life in that useless adventure. As a man, however, Beowulf listened to the advice of his elders, proving that he was not an incorrigible fool. He consulted the older men before he voyaged to Hrothgar's hall, and sailed with the peace of their blessings at his back.

Hrothgar warmly welcomed Beowulf. Before facing the fiend, Beowulf sat down to a typical feast of roasted boar with mead(a popular alcoholic beverage that was like white wine). The fourteen loyal men who followed Beowulf to Heorot were honored there with him. As a teacher's teaching is measured in the minds of his students, a leader's leading is measured in the obedience of his followers. Beowulf's were dutiful, brave, and respectful. They loved him. If it helped, they would die with him. They trusted him, too. That night, Beowulf's companions heard him boast “Sword and buckler I scorn to bear, Gold adorned shield, as I go to the conflict. With my grip I will grapple the gruesome fiend.”; and they soon saw him fulfill it.

That same day, the descendant of Cain waited in a hole alone with his mother. Huger than human, Grendel lived on the flesh of men. Once a man, now a murderer, he is doomed to fail and burn in hell-fire. Instead of nails, steel-like claws spurted from his fingertips. His hide was so thick, no swords could pierce it. Like all the guilty who fear, Grendel waited for the depths of night to do his evil deeds. Descended from humans, he lost his heritage, became inhuman, and preyed on his relatives.

Beowulf does not dwell alone in the dark. He is a king's son. When the feast ended, all left the hall but him and his companions. Beowulf kept the boast he made earlier that night. As he declared, he bravely fulfilled. He faced the demon without weapons.

Grendel does not understand truth or honor. Life flourishes around Beowulf, but nothing lives around Grendel. He brings death with him, and he is not capable of doing good. Beowulf is a defender. He never needlessly takes life, as Grendel does. He kills only when he has to protect those weaker than himself. That is the mission of heroes.

The contrast between Beowulf and Grendel is like sunshine and ice. Men love the warm sun, but hide in houses when the water is frozen. Beowulf saves lives, the other causes death. People shudder when Grendel is spied trespassing in the moor, but they love their hero and smile when he is seen. Beowulf was blessed, Grendel was cursed. A king's son and a murderer's spawn. One of them lived with his friends in a warm, firelit home. The other lived in a cold cavern. In these characters we see Love or Hate, Goodness or Evil, the Prince of Peace or the Deceiver. These representatives of two opposite powers were destined to fight each other in a battle so important, so big, that we still remember it today. Beowulf put his faith in God, shedding his own weapons. Grendel, if he had any faith, put it in his strength and hard hide. Which would win?

Heorot shook with the din of conflict. Beowulf warded off Grendel's treacherous attacks, proving to be the strongest man in the world that day. He gripped Grendel's arm and refused to release it. Cursed, inhuman, being very evil, Grendel was doomed to pay for all his wrongdoings. He cowered and cried trying to escape Beowulf's hand, showing another vice: cowardice. Man won. Monster bellowed a long, loud, howl of defeat, then all was still.

At the Cinema

2008-07-23T16:49:00.007-05:00

Last night I had the opportunity to go to the movies with my brother and cousin. What big sis wouldn't take it? Plus, it was a 3-D movie and those are always fun.

We saw "Journey to the Center of the Earth". It wasn't entirely original, obviously, but it wasn't bad. Not worth the $9.50 a ticket, but we had such a good time I'd totally do it again. I'll probably never have such a unique movie experience again anytime soon.

The three of us got our popcorn and made our way to the screen two minutes after they started showing the film. We scanned the theater. It was completely empty. What luck! The boys promptly ran up to the back projector and made shadow-puppets. My brother would never do that if there was anyone else in the theater.

The show commanded us to put on our 3-D glasses. So we did. Ten minutes into it I discovered the likely reason why no one else was there. The 3-D wasn't working. It was really hard to watch. I was thinking about complaining about it, but then Ricky looked over and shouted over the music, "Turn your glasses upside down!" He explained that they had put the lenses on backwards. So there we were, looking doubly dorky with upside down dorky glasses.

It was a blast.

Pretty Pictures

2008-07-19T15:27:00.011-05:00

I've been enjoying the 240-some pics I have from Oregon. Here's a few that I edited with the photo-thing on my computer.

I remember posing with the Mustang. That was the best car we could have possibly found to take pictures with. It's awesome when the perfect things turn up in the perfect places at the perfect times.

Elisabeth is a beauty over there on the left, isn't she? :)

I have normal hair in the pic on the right. Elisabeth took that when we were at the beach. It turned out really well in black and white after I cropped it!

Thoughts on Paradise Lost: Part II

2008-07-16T20:38:00.002-05:00

In the beginning of Paradise Lost, Milton says that his goal in writing the epic is to justify the ways of God to man. I think that, for the most part, he accomplishes that goal. He explains things that are hard to explain, such as why evil exists. It's easy to understand how evil got into our world, but in the cosmic sense, it's another story.

Think about it. Satan was good, before he fell. Since evil didn't exist, what corrupted him? How could he have fallen? Milton has an interesting way of explaining all this. He uses allegory. It's also the only allegory in Paradise Lost. (Warning: A short summary of the Devil's dysfunctional family follows. It's not pretty)

When Satan's pride causes him to rebel, Sin, his daughter, springs from his head. Satan and Sin have an incestuous relationship which produces Death, who rapes Sin, and produces hell-hounds. I'm not sure what the hell-hounds are all about, but you get the idea. Later in the story, Sin opens the gates to hell, but she cannot close them.

After God creates the earth, Satan goes to see what mischief he can cause. Sin and Death follow in his trail. Whereas God works things, even bad things, together for good, Satan's goal is to ultimately work all things into something bad.

The allegory kind of explains how and when evil cam into existence. According to Paradise Lost, evil was invented by Satan in the moment he rebels against God, which, after all is the first evil deed.

I've heard it said that Milton was "of the devil's party without knowing it". I can see where that comes from; he does seem to know an awful lot about the Devil.

Thoughts on Paradise Lost

2008-07-13T15:24:00.003-05:00

I finished reading Paradise Lost (by John Milton). I wouldn't recommend it unless you are either a serious epic reader or you are interested in theology and you want to read about the fall from the perspective of a 1600s protestant.

Milton says a LOT, but you don't have to catch everything he says in order to understand the plot and grasp a few of his ideas. Milton's works have already been criticized enough, so I won't complain about his wordiness any more. I find it interesting that Milton was completely blind when he wrote his masterpiece. It must have been really hard.

One theme I noticed throughout the book was that of free will and predestination. I'm still trying to understand the concept of being both fated and free. Milton's God creates the angels with free will, because otherwise, they wouldn't be able to prove their devotion to God. Those who decided to be obedient to God did it freely, those who fell fell freely. Now get this:

...They themselves decreed
Their own revolt, not I. If I foreknew,
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault,
Which had no less proved certain unforeknown.
So without least impulse or shadow of fate,
Or ought by me immutably foreseen,

La dee da...

...They themselves ordained their fall.

It seems to me that Milton's view is that the angels' fall was not ordained, not planned. All throughout the rest of Paradise Lost, Milton maintains a more theologically correct view, where he takes predestination into consideration. Now, if Milton is saying that Satan's fall was not in God's plan, does that therefore mean Milton is saying that God is not all powerful? Or does Milton take the view that because God (omniscient) foreknew, it was already in His plan? There's another possibility. Milton is wrong, God ordained the angels' fall, and our brains are too small to even fathom the reason for it.

Which brings me to something else I learned. Fast forward to the end. God makes garden, God makes Adam, God makes Eve, Satan in disguise deceives Eve...right there. One of Satan's promises is that the fruit will give Eve knowledge. Clearer sight. He promises she will be intellectually the same as God. After man and woman eat, however, they realize that the fruit has muddled their sight, not cleared it. (Actually, almost the first thing they do is have this big argument about whose fault it was. ) Their act of disobedience did teach them what evil was, but Adam thinks the world was much better when they only knew what good was.

I have a few more ideas I gathered from Paradise lost, so I'll be posting more about it later.

It's too NOISY

2008-07-10T21:15:00.005-05:00

Crickets. Cicadas. Spring Peepers.

Whatever they are, they're making a lot of noise. I was waiting for inspiration before writing another blog post(overdramatic, I know). But all I get are insect noises overwhelming my ears, pervading into my head and casting out all thoughts to who-knows-where. All I have for brains are Crickets, Cicadas, and frog noises. Or whatever. It sounds like a cricket call testing facility right outside my window.

Send me some brains. I want my deep, logical head back; if I can even claim to be logical. What's happening to me? The Crickets, Cicadas, and Spring Peepers are about to take over my world.

Yes, it's the i-nee-id.

2008-07-07T19:35:00.003-05:00

The other week I was at my friend Elisabeth's house. We share a love of books and good literature, so often our conversations begin with "So have you read__________?". This is one conversation that was cut short by my inability to regain my composure after the initial question:

Elisabeth: So have you read the Aynid?
Me: The WHAT?
Elisabeth: You know, the Aynid.
Me: [hilarious giggles ensue]
Me: You mean the Aeneid?
Elisabeth: Oh, is that how you pronounce it.
Me: [still giggling]

So in case there is any doubt, Aeneid is pronounced [i-nee-id]. If you don't believe me, ask my friend Mr. Webster.

Epic Adventures

2008-07-06T18:29:00.002-05:00

I recently finished a great Brit Lit class at Memoria Press.We (teacher Martin Cothran and my fellow home-students) read some thought provoking and challenging books, including Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, The Canterbury Tales, The Volsung Saga, Pilgrim's Progress, and others. Beowulf remains my favorite, with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in second place.

The class opened up my scope of literature and my reading ability grew. Mr. Cothran mentioned the ten greatest epics. If you read and understand all of these books, he said, you would have the best classical education possible. I want to have a good classical education, so my new goal is to read all of these books. Hopefully, I will have met that goal by the time I attend a college next year. Here, in no particular order, is the list:

Paradise Lost

The Oddessey

The Aeneid

The Faerie Queene

The Divine Comedy

Don Juan

The Iliad

The Prelude

Concerning the Nature of Things

Troilus and Criseyde

I began with Paradise Lost. We read and discussed the beginning of it in class, and it was the most challenging book for me, so it was the logical one to start with. I haven't even heard of some of those other ones.

I'm almost through with Paradise Lost now, and when I finish it I'm planning to read the Aeneid next.

The meaning of Excelsior

2008-07-05T18:00:00.001-05:00

Ever and Excelsior. What does that mean, anyway? Excelsior is a Latin phrase that means "Ever Higher". For me, it's a inspiring motto for trying do better and better; in short, pursuing excellence. As a Christian, Excelsior also symbolizes my desire to continue in my journey toward Heaven, never going backwards, always going higher. So, my friends, let's go ever and ever higher!