Is your boyfriend a soldier

Ok, way back I posted about my roommate's boyfriend being a soldier and the shirt I designed. Well, that shirt hasn't been printed, but at cafepress I now have available a whole host of shirts, hoodies, mugs, stickers, buttons, pins & so forth. There are two designs,"My boyfriend is a Soldier" & "My Boyfriend is in the Army".

Because of the way that cafepress is set up I have to set up different shops for each design - so this should be, well interesting. But, given the excessive number of people who are dating boys in the armed forces I think that at least some people will be interested in buying my stuff. My actual art work might be a bit harder to sell.

Driving home I passed a buggy...pulled by a teenage boy.

I really wish I'd had the courage to pull the car over and ask if I could take his picture, because it would have been awesome. But I didn't...so no picture. I keep telling myself that next time I will stop...but it hasn't happened yet.

Mary HAD a little lamb

It's time to bid farewell to Mary and her...well I guess the lamb was already gone. The point is, that the person who was hosting the image let their photobucket account expire or deleted it or some silliness of that sort.

Now we have the butterflies...I'm not sure how long they're staying. They are more cheerful than Mary & Co., but for me the most cheerful thing would be if this blasted thing fit the screen right. Sadly I don't know enough about code to make that happen.

So. We'll probably be seeing another change soon.

plastic

I was reading some random person's blog today and they were talking about how they're always being so lovely to people and inviting them to open up their beautiful wounded souls to them so that they could love them.

I stopped after that.
I really hate it when people tell you how nice they are. I really hate it when people tell you how much they care and how they're always there for their friends.

It might be real, but it always feels fake. In highschool if I wanted to know about someone I would tell them that I'm just nosey. Even if it wasn't true true. Fake noseyness seemed more real than actual concern.

All That Stuff

Saturday was fun. I took a lot of photos, had a subpar pork burger, and a massive headache from being out in the sun too long.

The best pictures are of the kids playing field games. They're adorable.

If you tell a teenage girl that you'd like to take her photograph to put in a magazine, her reaction is invariably, "Noooo! I look awful!" If you ask to photograph a teenage boy he says, "Cool!"

Yes. These girls are Amish. Yes. The girl in peach does have a cell phone.

After that I went shopping. I love to shop, but there are three things it's almost impossible for me to find: dress clothes, jeans, and purses. I'm super picky about all three. I've been shopping for dress clothes for two years without finding any that I like. Yeah. Sad. So I found a nice shirt and two purses and I felt pretty good about that.

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Today I went to Prof Davis' funeral. There was a display in the hall of photographs and of his art projects. It was really weird to see pieces that used to hang in his office and know that Prof Davis wouldn't be popping around the corner to tell the stories behind them.

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I never cry at funerals, the closest I've ever come before was at a stranger's funeral. I don't know why that made me want to cry more than my grandparents' funerals. But I definately teared up when Prof Nieter spoke. After that I half listened and half thought about other things. The screen saver playing on the projector, the stained glass in the windows, people's clothes. I've seriously never even come close to crying at a funeral before.

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I think some of the best sermons are at funerals. Maybe it's just because it's easier to care about God when we need assurance that someone we care about is with Him, but even so. The sermon was about how God is with us. I don't know, I guess at CCC sometimes we talk so much about God's glory...it feels like God is far away being great and being glorious, but not being here. I know that isn't the intention at all, but it's still how it comes out for me. Anyhow, Psalm 23 might be over used...but it's nice to remember that in all His glory...God is still the God who led David besides still waters and comforted him in the shadow of death.

Happy Birthday

So Holly and I drove down to see our friend in rehab. From what we'd been told we expected the congregation to be so black that we would glow, but there were a lot of hispanic and white people. Everyone was really friendly so, even with all the dancing and speaking in tongues, I didn't feel awkward at all. Perhaps I that was an oversight on my part.

The service was two & a half hours long. The only song I knew was Stomp and that's only because Micah loves that song. The Sermon didn't seem to have a topic and the pastor didn't have notes. He preached against alcoholism, drugs, prostitutes, gluttony, and narcicissm...he preached love, forgiveness, the importance of scripture and reliance on God, all as he thought of them. He told a lot of jokes and stories. He quoted scripture, but he didn't have a bible so I think he memorized it all (!) and inserted it as needed.

We didn't get to sit with our friend though and in the end we spent four hours total time just to spend 15 minutes with her over lunch. We thought we'd have at least an hour, so that was hugely dissapointing. Even so, I haven't seen in her in five years and it was great to see how good she was doing. Besides, she was really thrilled that we came, so you know...that makes it worth it.

Death in a Box

It's a box that counts death.

It can be set to count deaths that happen from smoking, or aids, or abortion.

I suppose one sets it out on the table and let's it tick them off.

It seems like an odd thing to spend $1,500 on.

I might send it someone I didn't like.

Happy Valentine's Day

Ok, so my valentine's day celebration pretty much consisted of walking around taking photos and getting coffee with pink whipped cream and sprinkles, but it was still good.

I met a guy who thinks that because he and his girlfriend are both a little strange (he is a lot more strange than she is) he doesn't have to do anything special for v-day. He figured out pretty quickly that he was wrong. She didn't take well to his charming harrassment about her eating habits and later I could hear her quietly protest to some antic with, "Noooo, we're supposed to be doing fun, romantic stuff!"

And now I'm enjoying The Parent Trap - the one with Lindsay Lohan back when she was cute and sweet.

A Walk to Forget: An Anti-Chic-Lit

Meryl was not sad or scared when the doctor diagnosed her. Mostly Meryl was irritated. It annoyed her that the doctors wanted to make a fuss over it. She didn’t want medicines and check-ups. All she wanted was to live her life until the end.

There was nothing to like about the Meryl. She didn’t have a pleasant face or a pleasing figure. She wasn’t friendly or helpful. She did not like other people and was comfortable in the knowledge that none of them liked her.

So it was that when Meryl Harr learned of her coming death, nothing changed at all.

James Oliver and Heather Grant were precisely the opposite of Meryl in every way. They were friendly and obliging to everyone. They went out of their way to be useful to people. Everyone admired their attractive features. And neither of them was about to die.

Monday morning came and school went on in the usual way. Teachers taught, students ignored them, and everyone was relieved when the clock struck two.
After school the cheerleaders went to the gym, the nerds gathered in Gregory Munce’s basement, the do-gooders volunteered at the homeless shelter, and Meryl had to make a hard choice between throwing stones through storefronts and stealing sweets from small children.

In the end the decision was practically made for her by the lack of unattended children in the park. Storefronts it was; and a lovely day for it too. The looming clouds kept any would be witnesses at bay. She probably could have broken as many as ten windows, if only the first two hadn’t belonged to the homeless shelter.

James Oliver recognized Meryl as soon as he saw her face. In the third grade she had tied him to the flag pole with his own jacket on a Friday afternoon. It was early Saturday morning before he managed to gnaw his way loose. But while James easily identified Meryl as the culprit, when they filed their report it was actually the quick thinking homeless man, Phil, who had written down the license number and got her hauled into court.

Phil apologized many times for writing it down, after the judge sentenced Meryl to community service at the shelter, but James unselfishly shared the blame, knowing he should have kept his mouth shut about seeing her face.

Heather was excited about the opportunity. She believed this could be Meryl’s chance to change and how thrilling to be the ones who finally made her understand how horrible she was! She could practically hear Meryl at church, telling the congregation about her turning point and how she owed it all to the Heartland Homeless House.

Meryl was in shock. A three month community service sentence when she only had three months to live? It didn’t seem quite fair.

But life is what you make of it. Meryl optimistically took the thing as a challenge. She could quietly leave this world having unwillingly helped people for the last three months of her life, or she could make them all wish they were the ones with a fatal disease.

She broke dishes, bullied children, was rude to the volunteers. Soon Meryl couldn’t imagine how she could have wished to spend those last months in any other way.

Then one day the unthinkable happened. As she was screaming at an elderly man, Meryl collapsed. At first everyone simply watched the old man kick her, but when it became apparent that she was unconscious someone reluctantly suggested they call an ambulance.

“Don’t do it,” said James, “She won’t pay you back the money and her parents are even meaner than she is.”
“James!” Heather cried, “We have to help her, once she sees how we care even though she’s terrible, she’ll have to cha-.”
“I’ll take her in the Corrola, It’s still better than she deserves,” James said tersely, visualizing those chilly predawn hours in third grade.

And that was how everyone discovered that Meryl Harr was two weeks from death.
Heather was certain that the breakdown would come any hour now. Surely Meryl had a need to make things right before she died. Even James kept one eye open for a change.
Sometimes when they cuddled on his parent’s couch he would make up small changes so Heather would feel better.

“She didn’t trip Mr. O’Conner as much today,” James offered.
“Really?” Heather gasped.
“Mmmhmm,” James mumbled. He hated to lie.
“How many times less?” Heather pressed.
“Oh well, not many. It might be she lost count, but then again it mightn’t.”
“James, this is such a crucial spot. I really think we should pray for Meryl tonight,” suggested Heather.
James sighed, “A short prayer.”
“Jamesie, I mean, really pray. You know, instead of making out.”
James knew he’d been wrong to take lying so lightly. God was refining him now and he’d have to take it like a man, “Oh alright, I’ll start.”

The two weeks flew by the same as the ones before them. Soon Meryl’s time was gone and only her pale, chubby body remained. The day was sunny and sweet. There was no pastor and no mourners. There was only the young couple sitting on the grass by Meryl’s grave.

“It just makes you think how short life really is,” said Heather.
“Life is short,” James agreed.
They stared at the cheap plastic grave marker.

The caretaker didn’t approve at all of the young couple necking by the fresh grave. It wasn’t respectful to the dead. He should probably stop them. Then again, grief takes so many forms. Maybe he would just mow the lawn on the other side of the cemetery for a while. After all, life is short.

A word of explanation:

My sister, Bethany, and I were mocking "A Walk to Remember" and "Here on Earth" the other day. It led to a discussion about how cancer is used in stories. We're ok with cancer as a plot device, but we really hate it when it's a sweet girl with cancer (refusing treatment) who helps the rebel young man (who coincidentally has to volunteer at her place of employment to make restitution for his wrong doings) to realize he should change - as they fall in love. We find it repulsively sappy and absurd.

Bethy mentioned that she would like a story about a unattractive, mean girl getting cancer.
No redemption. No moral. Just death.

Saturday:
The roommate at I got up at an extremely unreasonable hour and went shopping in our PJs. Every year in Amish-Land there is a massive sale available only to those willing to crawl out of bed at 4 am and go shopping in their nightwear. It's entirely Robin's fault that we were part of that crowd. The best part was getting my amazing mango-danish-panini. So good.

I went back to bed at 8:30 and slept till 11:30.

Sunday:
Of course I watched the Super Bowl. I love watching the Super Bowl commercials, but unfortunately there were a lot of people talking so I didn't hear most of them. They didn't look that amazing though, unfortunately.

Normally I don't pay any attention to the game, but this year I had a running commentary by Katie and that made it a lot more interesting. I was even excited when the Giants won!

Erica and...her husband, whose name I do not recall, brought their kids. And to be perfectly honest my first thought was, "Great. Children." I tend to not enjoy kids until they're at least in the third grade, but Erica's kids are under five and pretty darn adorable. Even the baby who insisted that my purse actually belonged to her.

The oldest (whose name I also do not recall) wanted to know why I was drawing and could he draw too? I had to give him a piece of paper and a pencil. If I can't make it through the superbowl without a little doodling, how can I expect a five year old to? So then Kaitlyn (?) the middle kid, wanted to draw too, and I ended up just grabbing another notebook for them.

One of the many reasons why I dislike small children is that when drawing is involved they inevitably say, "I can't draw that, you do it for me!" Of course they can't draw it, they're four, their lists of accomplishments include standing upright and using the toilet. My actual, more kosher, but still wantonly harsh, response is that I couldn't draw that way when I was four either. If they practice hard they're be able to draw it when they're as old as me. It's mean, think about it.

However, I enjoyed Erica's two oldest, because neither of them did that. The boy just drew whatever he wanted and by the end told me he wasn't going to tear his last picture out of the book because the next drawing would be just good like mine and the girl asked me to show her and then gleefully made scratches that vaugely resembled mine. She was so spyched and adorably unaware of the disparity between our drawings.

Monday:
At work the internet is down and has been since Friday. There was very little actual work to do, so I had to make some up. Mostly I made clip art. It's a little tiring after a while.

Then I drove home in the ridiculous fog.

Random Mid-Day Thoughts

Another day, another doodle. I can't help myself, I get bored. The background design isn't entirely mine. I stole the squares off the internet. But that's what graphic designers do. We take a bunch of stuff and put it together and hopefully it looks good.
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I've had a killer headache all morning, but I just took four (or six...but I think it was four) ibuprofin and that pretty much knocked it out, which is lucky since I have to drink soda if regular painkillers don't work. Soda makes my headache go away, but then it makes my other muscles hurt, so it's a loserly trade off. But, I have to be able to stare at a computer screen all day and if my legs hurt it's not so much a loss to productivity.

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And in a few minutes I'm going to go to lunch, so hopefully I'll come back to work feeling pain-free and inspired to do something spectacular.

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My brother is calling me tonight. He's in highschool and for one of his co-op classes he ask to ask someone questions about work or something. I already know he didn't want to use me for his paper, but I guess he couldn't find anyone else.

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Robin and I are going to pick out curtains tongiht. We've had other house/life issues that were more pressing, but it's good that we're finally going to have curtains. I always feel a little weird about not having them.

Well, off to lunch with me, now I just have to decide if I'm getting a deli sandwich at the grocery or a coffee and muffin in town. Probably better go with the grocery, it's cheaper.

On new experiences and anti-social tendencies.

My weeks usually consist of going to work and coming home. My roommate might be at home with me or she might be with her boyfriend. I might end up walking down the street to buy a white-chocolate toffee mocha, or I might just microwave dinner. But mostly my life is an exercise in isolationism.

I think I traded lives with someone else this week. It was good times, but I don't think I could do it every week. Sometimes I wish I had a fuller social calander, and a lot of times other people tell me I need more friends (a lot of times), but the truth is I wouldn't spend so much time alone if I didn't actually enjoy time alone. I do, and that's ok. And after this week I'm definately going to need time to recharge. Especially after the wedding expo.

Alice is getting married this Tuesday...but the actual ceremony has been pushed back to May. For the me that is designing the invitations this is amazing - for the me that will have to spend the next four months in wedding land...

I'm glad to help, really, but wedding land can be a scary place. And today I was in it's capitol city. Tux rentals, dress preservation, florists, caterers, photographers, honeymoon packages...and a million brides.

Later Robin, Celi, and I went to see National Treasure. I wasn't all that impressed, but a medium Dr. Pepper, half a bad of Reeses Pieces, and two hours alone in the dark went a long way to helping me recover from having been around so many people.

I kind of wanted alone time tonight, but I also kind of wanted to go to a church service I found out about a couple weeks ago. I'd told Robin I was going and so she said she'd go with me. If she hadn't gone with me I'm not sure I'd have made it in the door, much less up the stairs to the actual meeting (so see Robin, it's as much your fault as it is mine).

We spent the first third of the service (which was a circle of chairs, 20 people, and a guitar) wishing we hadn't come. We could have done whatever we wanted...Robin could have spent more time with Celi, I could have read. You can always put these things off till the next week, right?

I ended up liking it though. They're reading through Acts, the oldest guy preached, but it was mostly just his thoughts on the passage and other people could share their thoughts on the passage. And the sermon/discussion ended up touching on things that have kinda been coming up other places...so that was...interesting. People were nice, we even stayed and talked afterwards...I don't know...it was...good. For those first twenty minutes I thought I was going to die, but I think I'll be back next week.

Nothing to Say

Back in the day when christian radio was the only radio (i.e. highschool), Andrew Peterson had his one and only hit, Nothing to Say. And even though I dislike mornings on principle, whenever I'm driving to work and the sun's rising and lighting everything up - it makes me think of that song.

It's the only redeeming thing about mornings, really. You don't get that kind of lighting any other time of day. Monet used to paint pictures, not for the object in the picture, but for the way the light reflected off of it. As a child I found this deeply dissapointing. I'm not sure I can explain why, it just seemed like a betrayal of one's subject matter. But morning driving always makes me feel like Monet had it exactly right.
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(part of Monet's Rouen Cathedral series)

Nerd Art

For some reason when I have very little work to do, I have a whole lot of trouble focusing on it.

So I was browsing the internet and found Molecular Muse. Etsy was featuring her Dopamine necklace for valentines day.

That's right kids, it's a pendant in the shape of a dopamine molecule.

And, if it so happens that your sweetie isn't nerd enough to appreciate this necklace there are a wide variety of molecular designs to give to the nerds you love.

There's the Serotonin necklace, for your emo friend you want to just shut up and smile.

M

A wine decanter with a design related to the ethanol molecule, since the ethanol molecule is found in alcoholic beverages and no one would be confused and think it related to a modern fuel source.

Chocolate - theobromine molecule - earrings, for people you'd like to dissapoint by not buying $40 of actual chocolate.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

And, of course, much more. All expensive. All arriving in a recycled green box and with a little diagram of your molecule.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Socializing is awkward anywhere...even Facebook

Ok, so I finally got facebook - I strongly feel that I need to justify this in some way, but I've found facebook kind of useful. In a couple of days I was able to get in touch with people that I haven't had any contact with in ten years.

But it's kind of weird too. So you send a friend request and the other person recognizes your name and accepts the request. Well...so then one of you might send a note or it might just be another notch in your friends list, proving your value through the number of people who are willing to publicly admit that they know you.

And then you can, at a glance, find out things like that they're engaged or have joined a cult. You can also see what groups they've associated themselves with and which games they play, but that doesn't really make it any easier to know what to say to them.

Conversations that start out, "So, you're sacrificing cats in the dead of night now...how's that going for you?" probably aren't going anywhere fast.

Oh, it's Monday

I do appreciate not hearing "Hey There Delilah" every eight minutes, but there really aren't enough good Christmas songs to merit an all Christmas music station. Especially when they feel the need to jazz up the good songs. I want Have Your Self A Merry Little Christmas to be sung by Judy Garland. Could Bing Crosby pretty please be the only one to sing White Christmas? That would be great. If the Christmas Shoes song could never-ever be played again that would make my year.

I got a call from my sister, Holly, the other night. She was supposed to come up yesterday, but it's been postponed in favor of having a Saturday available to spend together.

Mostly Holly and I are vastly different. We look nothing alike causing great confusion to people who think we're merely friends who argue and hang out all the time. Holly is loud, impulsive, and extroverted. People love or hate her. Usually love. We usually solve problems differently, even when our end goal is the same. But we tend to have the same thought process. In youth group they banned us from being on the same Taboo team together, because we could guess the answer off hints like, "You know" and "That thing!" In highschool our family got a DSL connection allowing us to chat online at the same time. One of our online friends told us there wasn't a point because we said the exact same thing - often within seconds of each other.

It's been a long time since I've gotten to hang out with her apart from the rest of the family, so it's going to be awesome that she'll be here for several days.

Sci-Fi Nation

A disturbing new robot is out from Toyota. With Japan's population growing really old and reproducing very little robots are apparently the best solution.

Granted, these white, alien looking machines are not nearly as disturbing as Zeno the 17" boybot, which was inspired by Supertoys Last All Summer Long, by Brian Aldiss which also inspired Spielberg's A.I. - yes, that's right, David Hanson read a depressing book and said, "How can I make that kind of emotional trauma a reality?" It's inspiring, really.

Evidently Toyota made a trumpet playing robot 3 years ago. Toyota marked this move as trying to keep up with Honda's Asimo, which has been hired out as an office servant and keynote speaker, but could they possibly be starting a robot orchestra?

Procrastination

A friend of mine is teaching English over in the Chech Republic. Her one thing that she misses is Orbit chew gum, so I am sending her a box of it. Theoretically this should be a one or two day project...but I think it's been several months since I told her I would send it to her.

Pathetic.

It's raining, it's pouring...

I've rethought my position on MySpace. While my MySpace page still says that I hate it, I'm actually excited. You can find like anyone on there. The other night I just kept putting in people's names and finding all sorts of old friends and acquantences.

Most exciting was finding the page of one of my best friends in highschool. I have her e-mail address and cell number, but we're both busy and never talk. But with a click of the button I invited her to be my friend and now I have access to all the pictures she posts of her adorable little girl and it's easy enough to drop a little message (why this is easier than e-mail I don't know, there's just something about it that compells people to leave a comment!).

I've been kind of lonely lately. I realize it is entirely my own fault, still it made me feel better to get a message from Tracie.

So three cheers for MySpace!

I'm not a dog person. When I was little my bestfriend had several large dogs and they all terrified me. Later I just found them annoying.

When I was in highschool Holly had a tiny yorky-pek mix (2 lbs.). We loved that dog without a reason. It was never house trained. When it was outside it spent it's time digging holes under the fence so it could go harrass the neighbor's german-sherpherd. When you tried to put food in it's bowl it tried to bite you. It stole all our socks out of the laundry and lined it's cage with them. It did no tricks and did not come when called.

After college I moved in with Alice and her deranged dog. It never stopped barking. Ever.

We had it for less than a year when Alice traded it in for her other dog. At first it seemed like a good trade because this dog didn't bark nearly as much and almost never jumped over the couch while we were trying to watch television. But the fact that it was bigger than our apartment and ate everything in sight began to grate on my nerves.

The past few months without a dog anywhere near me have been bliss.

It just so happens that my roommate's dearest wish is to have a dog. Fortunately for me there are a few things that make this livable.

1. My roommate does not want a small yappy dog nor a descendent of Cliffard the Big Red Horror.

2. We have a yard and basement that we can dump the dog into.

3. Whenever the dog annoys me I can run to Target and buy it a funny outfit.

4. The dogs Robin's looking at are actually kinda on the cute side. You know. For dogs.