not minor

It's interesting to see how i've changed from then. I'm just annoyed that they don't have options for music or teaching.

What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3) created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as English You should be an English major! Your passion lies in writing and expressing yourself creatively, and you hate it when you are inhibited from doing so. Pursue that interest of yours! English 100% Linguistics 92% Dance 83% Journalism 83% Psychology 75% Art 67% Theater 58% Sociology 50% Mathematics 42% Philosophy 42% Engineering 25% Anthropology 25% Biology 17% Chemistry 8%

Eureka!

I finally had the inspiration for Paul Dies! (Yes, i know i'm not supposed to put off writing till inspiration comes, but this time it worked. Is working. You'll see.) Of course, i'll have to sort of start over because our main computer crashed, taking all writing documents with it... *sigh* But THIS will change it a bunch, and Dad said that once we get a new computer, (the one in the office died too,) he can probably get some, if not all, documents and things off the old one.

I'm leaving about ten tomorrow morning with Mrs. S. for the seminary area for DoRena's shower. Spend the night at Grandma's with Naomi and Saranita, church in the morning of course, then at N+N's till Thursday, when comes (drum roll, please) the flight to California and Amanda Pearl. And that's flight as in on a plane, not flight as in we're escaping to there. We're staying for a week or so, and i don't remember when Mommy comes to drag me away from Sita.

"Cleaning this room is like a archaeological dig." (--Aaron N.) Why does Mother Dearest want my room to be spotless when i'm leaving?

I give up!

I tried, i really did. Very hard, for very long. But this is it, i'm confessing: In general, i like dancing. Maybe it's the music. Now i still don't like certain kinds of dancing, dancing to certain kinds of music, and with certain people, i. e. most of them.

Mollie Ziegler Hemingway in Wall Street Journal about Issues Etc.!

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120667366412170875.html?mod=taste_primary_hs

Ha HA!

PG 13, i suppose.

I like this analogy here: Mr. Kruta explained that Missouri Synod members should have drawn the line sooner about how much deviation they would tolerate in the church. "Seriously, this has been like waking up in the hospital after surgery only to find that the wrong limb has been amputated and no one will admit who the surgeon was," he said.

make me stop looking at vintage sewing patterns

This lady in purple here thinks you killed her friend, and is wishing she'd put on MORE mascara, and earrings that actually WERE bigger than her ear. Close, but not quite. You can see how she hates you, how she just itches to take a glove and slap you across the face with it before grabbing a sword from some unknown place. Probably behind that huge, modern painting in the background. She won't though, because you interrupted her going out. She must be somewhere. Another time, perhaps she can avenge her friend, but now she can only stare. The one on the right thinks she's better than you, because she has a huge brain. She's probably right, but we'll never stop laughing long enough to care. I need a hat like that.


What are these guys thinking?
The one on the left: Let's take stock: I've got my best foot planted firmly
forward, my lemon colored suit with a breast pocket *as well as* hip
pockets, one hand in a pocket, one reaching nonchalantly behind for
the gun, and the mysterious smudgy halo. Ah good, I have the largest
one. Now I must be sly as I turn to shoot the legendary Robert L.
Green. Of course, I can't untilt my head or I'll bonk it right into
the words.

Middle: Man! I *knew* I shouldn't've worn my rich, silk burgendy tie?
shirtthing? and handkerchief with my matching black suit, I should've
worn my sickly brown plaid pants and gray jacket! Oh the humanity. At
least my hair is so handsomely curled.

Right: No one can get me now. That's right, they can't even see an
edge of my eye. I'm ready, be it mafia or disco. Nobody's gonna pull a
gun on me.

Also, i think the middle on has some sort of pocket complex going.


Does Red have half a golf club? Why are they so squinty? I think Black cut Red's pants to the silly height they are now, and is laughing at him for that. Red is unaware of his silly appearance, but is naïve and dim, and is laughing with Black because if Black is happy, it must be something that's good for Red too. (I'm ignoring the cigarettes because i think this was back before they know it was bad for them. If not, those are twigs painted white.)


Lefty is an airhead and is watching a birdie. She doesn't know she's about to step off something (a cliff, maybe). Righty just realized she dropped something, and is wondering how to pick it up without getting her plaid circus tents in the dirt. The clowns would get tangled with the lion-tamers, the midgets in bearded lady's beard, and it would just be a phenomenal mess.


The mother in the blue shirt was just leaning in to lecture one of her daughters, when she stopped to smile at the one she likes, the one who's surprised because of this surprise birthday party. The unloved daughter in stripes is furious because they're twins and she's not having a birthday. But she's very polite and will not set fire to the presents, however much she wants to. But if her best friend's brother "happens" to do it, well…


Oh dear. Ohhhh dear. First of all, Red Belt just got a crew cut. She's pining. Gold Sash is walking through that immensely slushy slush we got yesterday. You can see with her pants pulled up and her pretending not to. She's tip-toeing. And Big Gold Buckle has no excuse. I think she's just remembering that she dressed wrong, as this looks terrible in any activity. Gah. So- ugly- can't- look- directly- at it-

Alleluia!

He is risen!
(this is your cue-)

I love Easter! I forget, every year, how happy it makes me. But here it is again, making me laugh with delight, singing loudly these glorious hymns, alleluia, alleluia! And the Gospel, how those women went to the tomb wondering how to get in, and instead they find He has Risen! Ha HA!

I hate it when we strip the alter. It's so empty and cold and unforgivingly, smotheringly dark, especially with the black cloth over the crucifix. It was relief both when Pastor took the cloth off, and when they brought the communion out.

It would seem humiliating to some people, worshiping this disgusting, bloody and naked Man, hanging off a tree, but to me it is the look of victory. Seeing what He did out of unconditional love for me, me, this one who appears disgusting, bloody and naked. Shameful.

And through this His own Father, the One who loves Him more than any other, is comforting me. I see this reflected in my life through my parents and other authorities, like Mom comforting me at Grandpa's funeral, and Pastor absolving me*, and i not paying attention because i kept thinking of their miscarriage, and feeling sorry for him. (apologies that that doesn't quite fit, but i kept thinking of it anyway.)


* I love when Pastor lays his hand on my head. Dad did that to me when i was little, and it's a very comforting, safe feeling. It was to me the only drawback of receiving communion, because then i wouldn't have that every Sunday. I reasoned that getting the body and blood of Jesus is better, and i could still have the hand-on-head thing during absolution.