Friday, November 13, 2009
A Tuesday Morning
Last Tuesday (or Monday, I'm not sure), in my political science class, I witnessed a very intense debate about roles of men vs. women from the battle-front to what kind of toys they played with as a child. I say witnessed because I was not an active speaker (I wish I had been, but I'm not blessed with a clear mind in intense moments), but let me tell you, my brain was spinning. I came into the classroom just as my (dear, liberal, feminist)teacher was discussing the military with a student from her 8:00 class. From what I understood, the student's argument to keep women out of the military was based on how much harder it would be to tell a mother that her daughter had died in active duty vs. her son. Not a good reason. And my teacher's argument was that men were afraid to give women the opportunity to be in combat because they they might prove themselves capable and get promoted to a higher rank which would cause them to earn more money, which would put them in positions of economic power and then we women would be on an equal intellectual level with elite men (members of congress, for example). She also argued that we were depriving women of their right to "equal treatment under the law." She also said that we value men's lives less that women's lives, because if we valued them equally, we would give them equal opportunity to prove themselves capable. I don't think it's a question of capability or inability and I believe that there is a fundamental difference between being treated "equally" and "the same." I'm just not sure what it is...
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Hall's Haul
Yesterday we hauled the Halls from their house on the hill directly in the headway of the new highway in East Wenatchee to their new house on Pennsylvania Avenue.It's a quaint little yellow house with white trim. The outside frame is 100 years old next year. (I learned that part from Samuel and I asked him if it was 99 years old this year. He said, "No, it's 100 years old next year." Oh, ok.) But the inside is basically brand new with with kind of a creamy beige coffee color. Ok, it sounds gross, but it really is very nice. And then it has white trim, like the outside.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Saturday, I mean Friday. I'm a day ahead of myself....
Now that I got that out of the way, I should post something that might possibly be of some interest to my readers.
This morning I woke up to the sound of Mom's voice as she ran around getting ready to go to a high school reunion in Seattle. It was just after 8:00 she and Thomas were just leaving. I didn't want to get up just then because I didn't have school today (because of advising) and I wanted to take advantage of the time to stay in bed. A few minutes later Gretha called. I hadn't said anything this morning yet so there was a frog firmly lodged in my throat. I croaked "Hi" and she wondered if she had woken me up. I croaked again and I think she understood me to mean "no." Anyways, we had agreed to meet at the college today to go over chapter 11 in a&p for the exam on Monday. I wasn't sure when exactly I could meet her so I said I'd call her back later. I took a quick shower (20 minutes is quick) to start off the day (it's always good to start off the day on a good note), tried to find out when Dad was going to town (since I was dependent on him for a ride for several reasons: (1) I don't have a license and won't till I'm 18; (2) two of our cars are in the shop getting fixed (I really don't know if we ever have all our vehicles out of the shop at once, seriously); (3) Aki had to take one van to to work in Chelan (because her car is in the shop) and Mom took the other van to Seattle. The only car left is the truck and I can't drive that for reasons stated above and it's a stick shift (which I don't know how to drive anyways). So that was the car situation.
After I found out the approximate time that Dad wanted to leave, I worked on my article critique for political science on the goals of liberal education. It's a really interesting paper and I might post it or provide a link for it on my blog. I made some progress on it and will probably finish it tomorrow (hopefully). And I will continue this post tomorrow.....
This morning I woke up to the sound of Mom's voice as she ran around getting ready to go to a high school reunion in Seattle. It was just after 8:00 she and Thomas were just leaving. I didn't want to get up just then because I didn't have school today (because of advising) and I wanted to take advantage of the time to stay in bed. A few minutes later Gretha called. I hadn't said anything this morning yet so there was a frog firmly lodged in my throat. I croaked "Hi" and she wondered if she had woken me up. I croaked again and I think she understood me to mean "no." Anyways, we had agreed to meet at the college today to go over chapter 11 in a&p for the exam on Monday. I wasn't sure when exactly I could meet her so I said I'd call her back later. I took a quick shower (20 minutes is quick) to start off the day (it's always good to start off the day on a good note), tried to find out when Dad was going to town (since I was dependent on him for a ride for several reasons: (1) I don't have a license and won't till I'm 18; (2) two of our cars are in the shop getting fixed (I really don't know if we ever have all our vehicles out of the shop at once, seriously); (3) Aki had to take one van to to work in Chelan (because her car is in the shop) and Mom took the other van to Seattle. The only car left is the truck and I can't drive that for reasons stated above and it's a stick shift (which I don't know how to drive anyways). So that was the car situation.
After I found out the approximate time that Dad wanted to leave, I worked on my article critique for political science on the goals of liberal education. It's a really interesting paper and I might post it or provide a link for it on my blog. I made some progress on it and will probably finish it tomorrow (hopefully). And I will continue this post tomorrow.....
Starting Over
I am very ashamed of my blog right now. I started it almost a year ago, made a few posts and haven't been on it since February 5th. When I start things, I usually either try to over achieve (and fail) or give up (and fail). I either try to post every day (which doesn't happen) or not at all (which, unfortunately, happens more often).
If you follow my blog, you have a very persevering spirit. Keep it up. I will try (no guarantees, now) to update my blog at least once a week. I won't attempt more than that because I am quite sure I will be asking for trouble. So once a week it is. I need to think of a suitable consequence for being negligent. If I was required to blog, I would have no trouble blogging, because if I have to do something, I do it. I need a reason blog. If nothing is happening, I won't be motivated to blog. But if something interesting happens, I might blog about it. So I need to change that.
If you follow my blog, you have a very persevering spirit. Keep it up. I will try (no guarantees, now) to update my blog at least once a week. I won't attempt more than that because I am quite sure I will be asking for trouble. So once a week it is. I need to think of a suitable consequence for being negligent. If I was required to blog, I would have no trouble blogging, because if I have to do something, I do it. I need a reason blog. If nothing is happening, I won't be motivated to blog. But if something interesting happens, I might blog about it. So I need to change that.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Fort Dhu
Fort Dhu
(By Creek Hearing)
Men need only trust in Christ's teaching and obey it,
and there will be peace on earth.
— Leo Tolstoy
“There it is. I’ll race you!” Sukey squealed. We darted the last few yards to the fort and dove under the towering Evergreen. “Now we can relax,” Becky sighed. We lay on our backs and gazed up at the heavens through thick Pine needles. Still panting from the dash, we lost ourselves in our secret thoughts. It is perfect.
I discovered Fort Dhu. Sukey built Fort Dhu. Becky named Fort Dhu. The word “dhu” comes from the Gaelic word meaning “black.” Since our last name is Black, and the location of the fort was mysterious, and we claim Scottish ancestry, and we like intense names, we (mostly Becky) dubbed it, “Fort Dhu.” Peace is the essence of Ft. Dhu. Its surroundings, outside, inside, sounds and smells are peaceful.
Fort Dhu is situated on a hill slightly above Loop Road to the east, three curves past mile marker eight, where all the crooked mailboxes and the stop sign that sticks half-way out of the ground stand guard at the rocky entrance to a gravel driveway called Black Forest Road. To the north, there is a perfect view of the Wenatchee Valley. On clear nights, we can see Rocky Reach Dam, and on clear days, we can see Glacier Peak. To the south are Pine forests where weed-like bitter and sagebrush have taken over most of the grassland. To the east on the other side of Creek Hearing lie vast cherry orchards belonging to Kyle Mathison. There is a line of tall towering trees surrounding the orchard acting as a leafy green fence. To the west, the hill climbs up to plateau-like gentle rocky-sloped sage and bitterbrush land. My grandpa (who is a hunter) told me that the deer like bitterbrush, especially in the winter. It keeps them alive.
The fort itself is a large Evergreen tree that must be at least one hundred years old. On the ground around it lie years of fallen needles and pinecones. We made a sort of camouflage barrier of dead branches stuffed with pine needles to create a circular alcove under the largest and lowest branches of the tree. It’s perfect for stargazing on balmy summer nights. It is serene.
The inside of the fort is a calm haven for weary travelers (like myself), a quiet and peaceful abode that took some work to create. Fort Dhu is a tempting escape from the busyness and the hectic insanity of life.
In Fort Dhu, the only sounds are the rushing of Creek Hearing, the chirping of Robins and Blue Jays in the trees, along with an occasional owl, the wind whistling in the branches, and the occasional car zooming by. It is peaceful.
Because of our makeshift barrier of needles and cones, we can see the cars and their occupants traveling Loop Road, but they can’t see us. We spy. Even though they can’t see us, we always dive for cover whenever we hear a motor drawing near.
Since we discovered Fort Dhu, it has been our secret get-away. Our escape from the general calamities in life. (i.f.) Fort Dhu is the perfect place for viewing the world around us. It helps me enjoy life at its best. It is a serene place. It is a place where I can lose myself in my thoughts, and not be forced from my mental meanderings. (i.p.v.) I need to escape living and enjoy life, and finding peace is the best way to accomplish it.
(By Creek Hearing)
Men need only trust in Christ's teaching and obey it,
and there will be peace on earth.
— Leo Tolstoy
“There it is. I’ll race you!” Sukey squealed. We darted the last few yards to the fort and dove under the towering Evergreen. “Now we can relax,” Becky sighed. We lay on our backs and gazed up at the heavens through thick Pine needles. Still panting from the dash, we lost ourselves in our secret thoughts. It is perfect.
I discovered Fort Dhu. Sukey built Fort Dhu. Becky named Fort Dhu. The word “dhu” comes from the Gaelic word meaning “black.” Since our last name is Black, and the location of the fort was mysterious, and we claim Scottish ancestry, and we like intense names, we (mostly Becky) dubbed it, “Fort Dhu.” Peace is the essence of Ft. Dhu. Its surroundings, outside, inside, sounds and smells are peaceful.
Fort Dhu is situated on a hill slightly above Loop Road to the east, three curves past mile marker eight, where all the crooked mailboxes and the stop sign that sticks half-way out of the ground stand guard at the rocky entrance to a gravel driveway called Black Forest Road. To the north, there is a perfect view of the Wenatchee Valley. On clear nights, we can see Rocky Reach Dam, and on clear days, we can see Glacier Peak. To the south are Pine forests where weed-like bitter and sagebrush have taken over most of the grassland. To the east on the other side of Creek Hearing lie vast cherry orchards belonging to Kyle Mathison. There is a line of tall towering trees surrounding the orchard acting as a leafy green fence. To the west, the hill climbs up to plateau-like gentle rocky-sloped sage and bitterbrush land. My grandpa (who is a hunter) told me that the deer like bitterbrush, especially in the winter. It keeps them alive.
The fort itself is a large Evergreen tree that must be at least one hundred years old. On the ground around it lie years of fallen needles and pinecones. We made a sort of camouflage barrier of dead branches stuffed with pine needles to create a circular alcove under the largest and lowest branches of the tree. It’s perfect for stargazing on balmy summer nights. It is serene.
The inside of the fort is a calm haven for weary travelers (like myself), a quiet and peaceful abode that took some work to create. Fort Dhu is a tempting escape from the busyness and the hectic insanity of life.
In Fort Dhu, the only sounds are the rushing of Creek Hearing, the chirping of Robins and Blue Jays in the trees, along with an occasional owl, the wind whistling in the branches, and the occasional car zooming by. It is peaceful.
Because of our makeshift barrier of needles and cones, we can see the cars and their occupants traveling Loop Road, but they can’t see us. We spy. Even though they can’t see us, we always dive for cover whenever we hear a motor drawing near.
Since we discovered Fort Dhu, it has been our secret get-away. Our escape from the general calamities in life. (i.f.) Fort Dhu is the perfect place for viewing the world around us. It helps me enjoy life at its best. It is a serene place. It is a place where I can lose myself in my thoughts, and not be forced from my mental meanderings. (i.p.v.) I need to escape living and enjoy life, and finding peace is the best way to accomplish it.
Friday, January 30, 2009
My Sister
My Sister: Comical
I know someone who provokes me to laughter, real laughter, the kind that makes my sides hurt, my eyes water, and my voice shake because she is simply hilarious. She is my sister.
My sister’s essence is comical. She is “a person whose behavior elicits laughter” as the dictionary states it. Her overriding behavior at home, at church, with friends, in public, and even in her sleep is comical. I do not mean that her only character is comical. It is the most vivid.
She provokes me to laughter each time she displays her minuscule vocabulary. Her favorite phrase for every occurrence is, “That’s retarded!” or “What a retard.” Depending on the circumstances, this phrase has many meanings. Nevertheless, her response is the same from scorn to ecstasy. The actual meaning of the word “retarded’ is to drag or slow down. If I were not her sister, I would never know what she meant at any given time. The meanings of the word in her mind are so vast.
At home, my sister is most herself, most her own laughing nature. Even though there are times when sulkiness will surface, laughter quickly dims it. Humor is always pushing to the surface of her being.
At church, my sister is slightly more serious, but her cheerfulness and laughter are more distinct because beneath the surface any sulking pushes deeper. No matter her mood beforehand, she is always cheerful at the end of the service. Yet it is a content cheerfulness.
Every time I walk past her with a collection of friends, I hear phrases like, “Fail” and “That’s retarded” and “What a retard.” To be sure, she only displays her infinitesimal terminology. I once challenged her to abstain from saying the word “retard” for one day. Hah! (i.f.) She failed. In the course of three hours, she had said it seventeen times.
In public, her comical character is not nearly as pronounced, but it still shows through frequently. It is her nature. As hard as she tries, she cannot clear those phrases from her speech.
The phrases she mumbles in her sleep are most amusing. One night she said, “Are you kidding me? Are you serious me?” In the middle of the night when everything was quiet, a voice on the other side of the room suddenly hollered, “Are you serious me?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
In truth, I must admit that I resemble her. I look at her and see myself. Our personalities are incredibly similar (she probably disagrees with me). All we have to do is look at each other and we know what the other is thinking. My vocabulary includes the same words with just as many meanings, but I claim to have a better—if not larger—vocabulary. I claim a slightly more serious disposition.
I know someone who provokes me to laughter, real laughter, the kind that makes my sides hurt, my eyes water, and my voice shake because she is simply hilarious. She is my sister.
My sister’s essence is comical. She is “a person whose behavior elicits laughter” as the dictionary states it. Her overriding behavior at home, at church, with friends, in public, and even in her sleep is comical. I do not mean that her only character is comical. It is the most vivid.
She provokes me to laughter each time she displays her minuscule vocabulary. Her favorite phrase for every occurrence is, “That’s retarded!” or “What a retard.” Depending on the circumstances, this phrase has many meanings. Nevertheless, her response is the same from scorn to ecstasy. The actual meaning of the word “retarded’ is to drag or slow down. If I were not her sister, I would never know what she meant at any given time. The meanings of the word in her mind are so vast.
At home, my sister is most herself, most her own laughing nature. Even though there are times when sulkiness will surface, laughter quickly dims it. Humor is always pushing to the surface of her being.
At church, my sister is slightly more serious, but her cheerfulness and laughter are more distinct because beneath the surface any sulking pushes deeper. No matter her mood beforehand, she is always cheerful at the end of the service. Yet it is a content cheerfulness.
Every time I walk past her with a collection of friends, I hear phrases like, “Fail” and “That’s retarded” and “What a retard.” To be sure, she only displays her infinitesimal terminology. I once challenged her to abstain from saying the word “retard” for one day. Hah! (i.f.) She failed. In the course of three hours, she had said it seventeen times.
In public, her comical character is not nearly as pronounced, but it still shows through frequently. It is her nature. As hard as she tries, she cannot clear those phrases from her speech.
The phrases she mumbles in her sleep are most amusing. One night she said, “Are you kidding me? Are you serious me?” In the middle of the night when everything was quiet, a voice on the other side of the room suddenly hollered, “Are you serious me?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
In truth, I must admit that I resemble her. I look at her and see myself. Our personalities are incredibly similar (she probably disagrees with me). All we have to do is look at each other and we know what the other is thinking. My vocabulary includes the same words with just as many meanings, but I claim to have a better—if not larger—vocabulary. I claim a slightly more serious disposition.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
My Most Recent Essay for English 201
There is a saying that declares: if food tastes dreadful, it’s excellent for consumption. If food tastes excellent it’s dreadful for consumption. I agree, to some extent. But if food tastes dreadful, it can be dreadful for consumption. If food tastes excellent, it can be excellent for consumption.
There is a saying about the appearance of food: if food looks excellent, it will taste excellent. If food looks dreadful, it will taste dreadful. I agree, to some extent. But if food looks excellent, it may taste dreadful. If food looks dreadful, it may taste excellent.
Spinach, avocado, honey—they’re really not worth your money. I’ve heard that they’re good, but I’m still not positive that it’s appealing enough to eat something so disgusting just for vitamins when I can earn my vitamins elsewhere. They are not worth the sacrifice of gagging for some nutrients.
Doritos, cinnamon rolls, and ice cream generally taste delicious, especially the extra spicy Doritos, the not-too-sweet cinnamon rolls, and Breyers and Tillamook ice cream. They are always fatal to immune systems.
Big Macs taste dreadful. And guess what? They are dreadfully unhealthy. Peanut butter cookies are made of sugar, sugar, and sugar. They are appalling. Krispy Kreme Donuts taste frightful. They are made of sugar, oil, sugar, and oil. And sugar. (i.f.)
Green beans, peas, oranges, corn, dill pickles, apples, tomatoes, olives, grapefruit, honeydew melon, lettuce, and fresh, whole-wheat, homemade bread taste delicious and are actually healthy.
Chocolate truffles and cheesecake are heavenly to the eyes, fatal to the immune system. Forfeiting comfort of the stomach for the delight of the tongue is a sacrifice everyone must make. No one has lived before tasting a truffle.
I have no explanation for the reason that people enjoy fried grasshoppers, mushrooms, and liver. There is absolutely nothing appetizing about their look, feel, taste, or nutritional value.
Mud pie, cow tongue tacos, and sushi certainly look delectable. Unfortunately, they are revolting to the taste. Appearances can be misleading.
Wasp honey, vinaigrettes, and asparagus are all models of deliciousness in the form of ugliness. Never should I refuse to try something because of the way it looks. Never should I make judgments on the quality of something before testing it first.
Food comes in various forms: dreadfully excellent; excellently dreadful; dreadfully dreadful; excellently excellent. To know which category a food falls into I must test it. I cannot judge what I do not know.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Hello 2009
I have finally started college again and I am beginning to get into the flow of things. School is one of my highlights right now. I want to do something in the medical field. Most likely I will go into nursing, but I still am debating between dental hygienist, paramedic and nurse assistant. My Aunt Jenny (who is a nurse) suggested I become a doctor. I'm still unsure....
There has been massive melting going on in Wenatchee. Last night there was a large wind storm and lots and lots of rain. This morning the sun was shining and there was a nice breeze. The corral was flooded and disgusting looking and what snow was left is extremely dirty.
There has been massive melting going on in Wenatchee. Last night there was a large wind storm and lots and lots of rain. This morning the sun was shining and there was a nice breeze. The corral was flooded and disgusting looking and what snow was left is extremely dirty.
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