Friday, February 29, 2008


Yesterday I was just turning off my car when I heard a few seconds of the radio. Unfortunately, you have to have the radio turned to this super sappy Christian station in order to play my ipod adapter, so I usually have to suffer through a few seconds of some sort of misery until I can get Steven Curtis Chapman or the Goo Goo Dolls going. However, I almost wish I had suffered through a few more minutes of misery in this case. It was too classic an opportunity for mockery to pass up lightly. I caught just a few seconds of a guy with this high, thank-God-I'm-free-at-last type voice, saying, "Since my sanctification, I haven't sinned in two years!" ???????? What the heck? I'm stunned long enough to hear the announcer say, "Other than the lie you just told" before I turned off the car and went inside, still in a state of not sanctification, but stupefaction. Also, a certain amount of anger at the guy's hypocrisy. Way to hit it into left field, Joe. Some poor bum is gonna hear that and think that religion is definitely not for a goof-up like him. Once I got inside, I asked Jon, in his infinite wisdom, to translate what in the world the guy meant by the grand and glorious sanctification. He explained that some people believe that once they are saved, there's some sort of super-saving process, in which you lose all desire to sin again. Other than the fact that this is all completely bogus in my humble (don't laugh) opinion, I don't think that the guy I heard on the radio is really the appropriate poster child for sanctification. For starters, the minute he gave his whole two years spiel, my evil mind immediately superimposed this commercial on top of his: "Since I've been taking essence of Chinese sea grass and extract of pig manure, I haven't gained a single ounce of weight! Thanks, Ching Chang Poop!" (insert stupid smile, with the light bouncing off gleaming white teeth). Seriously, the dude sounded like the computer off of the Enterprise: "All temptations working within normal parameters. No anomalies detected. Amen." Majel Barrett would have a stroke. I think I need to go take a shower over how dirty I feel since that glorious individual sullied up my religion. Oh, and happiness-my computer came in! Woot!

Thursday, February 28, 2008

What is Real?

Ye Be Warned: Katie's going to rant now.

Another creative writing class, more stuff to work through. I can't say that this class isn't making me question why I do what I do; I'm having to clarify within myself that I write the way I do for some other reason other than the extremely rational "it just feels right." Jon was so kind tonight, God bless him, and I mean that literally, God bless him. Mr. Walker had just asked if anybody had any questions, and Jon asked Mr. Walker if he had any advice for someone in the class who might be geared more towards fantasy to deal with writing about reality. He took the burden of attention off me, and even allowed Mr. Walker to think that it was him that was deficient in this area, not me. I will never, ever forget that.

Mr. Walker's answer was his usual brilliance, and he made a lot of points that did make sense to me. However, one thing that he said did really stick in my memory-he said that he felt like the Inklings had really copped out by not dealing with what was real. Yes, what Lucy experienced behind the wardrobe doors was amazing, but what about the bombs that were falling on London at that very moment? Why didn't he deal with that, instead of witches and lands of eternal winter?

My reply to that is, "Why? Why focus on bombs and battles when you can be focusing on witches and lands of eternal winter? Why? Why? What was going on in Narnia at that point was a metaphor of what was happening in London-it was just told a little different way! What is so almighty important about staying crushed in the cement claws of a mind-numbing existence that you cannot escape?"

I guess I'm coming at this from a different point of view, and I probably feel just as strongly about it as Mr. Walker feels about his views. I strongly believe that without fantasy, more particularly The Lord of the Rings, my soul would be dead, if not my body. Melodramatic statement, you cry! Yeah, right....

I'm fourteen years old. My parents' divorce has been final for a while, but that doesn't help the reality of it. It doesn't help us having to scrimp every cent just to keep our house, just to buy Shelby's medicines. Time hasn't healed the wounds of having to see my father and his new wife building their new, child-proof and therefore, stress-proof, lives together. It isn't keeping me from crying at night, mourning the loss of protection, innocence. Nothing is solid in my life anymore, except the love of my mother and my siblings. Even that isn't enough to keep me from thinking daily, if not hourly, of quitting life altogether.

Don't get me wrong-I was a Christian at this point. Have been since I was five years old. But what people don't seem to realize is that for Christians, suicide is even more tempting. We have none of the doubts that other people face when they contemplate death. I'd been here on earth for a while, and I knew how much it sucked. Why stay in hell, when with a shot of a gun, a slit of a knife, a minute too long underwater, I would be in paradise forever? I would be with Him, a man I knew would never leave me, never stop loving me, and would never replace me by a better model. Tempted by suicide? You bet. Something always held me back-usually it was the thought of never getting married or going to my prom. Maybe an angel was whispering in my ear, keeping my sanity together.

Like I said, I'm fourteen years old. It's my birthday, and I'm sitting in a movie theater between my (then) father figure and my best friend, watching as this weird movie comes on the screen, something called "The Fellowship of the Ring." I can still remember how blown away I was, how I could barely even move in my seat (except when Bilbo did his Gollum-face thing; then I almost fell out of my chair). The characters captured me, enthralled me. For those few hours, divorce and suicide and abandonment didn't exist. I was in Middle-Earth, being escorted by Gandalf and Aragorn and Legolas, trying to defeat an evil that even I couldn't fathom. I felt more alive then, more real, than I had since April 9, 1999, when my dad walked out the door.

Perhaps this is why I react so strongly when Mr. Walker says things like he said about the wardrobe. The fantasy world was, and still remains to be, more real to me than a lot of things in this world. It's a place where magic can be captured, can be held and experienced and allowed to work in ways that a person had never imagined before. Fantasy is a place where God can be met and talked to and experienced, for there is nothing more magical than He. If we didn't have a hope of better things, we would all pull an Ernest Hemingway and blow our brains out. Reality seemed to do wonders for him. Besides, fantasy can be merely another way of viewing reality, as Lucy battled hags and bombs dropped on English rooftops.

I hope that this hasn't been too much for you guys. I hope that my friends won't lose patience with me. But maybe you'll understand now, at least a little, why the fantasy world is so deadly real to me.

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

So, as you can tell from my title, I'm in a fabulous mood at the moment. Here are the reasons why, in a very orderly sort of list that I don't normally take the time to itemize, so they're just kind of jumbled up:
1. No more Finance class until next Tuesday
2. I got to listen to Rascal Flatts in my car today with...
3. my dog, who went along for the ride. There's nothing quite like having your dog with you to make everything seem lovelier.
4. I was able to completely fill my gas tank, yay! Which means I don't have to worry for a week or two.
5. My computer shipped last night. Hopefully I'll have it by the time the weekend's over.
6. The sun actually came out today! It was so beautiful, I just had to roll my windows down. Iris loved this, of course.
7. I got to see my best pals at school today, and we had lots of fun. Evan and Lyndsey started having this really weird conversation about Yoda and cookies, so during class, Lyndsey put her notebook in her lap and drew this hysterical cartoon of Yoda levitating a table with a plate of cookies on it, saying "Yo mama make good cookies, she does!" Since I'd spent the entire class thinking Lyndsey was gazing at her lap in either confusion or prayerful penitence, it was a nice surprise.
8. Lawrence and I raided our change and went to get Taco Bell. Mucho bueno!
9. Got to see Bobby, ever so briefly.
10. I was able to turn my paper in on time. This is always a good thing.
There! That's why I'm happy. I hope you've all had a good day, too.
Lady K

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Are you there, God? It's me, Katie...

I need a hug, I think. Wuthering Heights left me really depressed......Heathcliff is the biggest jerk I think I've ever read about in my life. Still, I'm strangely fascinated by his character. How could a preacher's daughter who'd hardly ever left her house ever DREAM a character like Heathcliff? I don't even want to have a nightmare about a guy like Heathcliff, let alone write about him.

Still, life continues to have its small favors. I got a B on my finance class, which I'm really grateful for. I've had to swallow my pride and start visiting my professor for tutoring, which kind of stinks, but it's all for the cause, I suppose. My creative writing class went well today as well-I had my kids write a cinquain about an animal, and then we hot glued a bunch of rocks together to look like their animal. Their mothers were thrilled. I'm teaching them how to write descriptively and notice the things around them, and the moms get excited over a bunch of rocks. Go figure. At least they're happy.

As for me, I'm daily reminded by how thankful I am for the wonderful friends God has placed in my life. However, I do find myself wondering-spring is coming, right? Somehow, everything always seems so much happier and alive and new in the spring.

Love to all.

Monday, February 25, 2008

If I Only Had a Brain...

I wonder about myself. Nay, not wonder. Worry.

Yesterday I read for nearly nine straight hours. I finished "War in Heaven", read the first two chapters of "Elmer Gantry", and got momentarily sidetracked by "Jane Eyre" before reading eight chapters of "Wuthering Heights" and two chapters of "Dragonhaven." Yes, my friends, my brain resembled a plastic bowl that gets accidentally placed into a microwave.

Despite that fact, I was in a really cheerful mood when I got up this morning. I even had time to go outside and rescue some of our prematurely blooming daffodils. They're my favorites-so delicate, yet cheerful at the same time. They remind me that spring will someday come. School went well, too, owing to the fact that I had done all my work yesterday and so was pretty well prepared for class. I walked out to my car with Shelby, admiring the beautiful weather and wishing that she would let me roll my window down, but I didn't even both to ask. I knew the answer.

I had just hit Highland when I looked up a little to check my rear view mirror, when I noticed It. There, hanging there by a hideous little piece of web, was a brown spider. It was staring maliciously at me. I loathe spiders; I have ever since my dad took me out one day to the pool, which happened to be covered up at the time, and pointed out the deficiencies and beauties of a black widow spider. The intruder today didn't possess the malevolence of a black widow, but nevertheless, it was Encroaching on My Personal Space. I then, naturally, did the normal thing, and calmly asked Shelby to get rid of it, which means to say, that I panicked.

She reached casually into her bag and pulled out a notebook, and started batting at it pathetically, like it was a pinata that contained candy she wasn't really interested in, but was going through the motions because it was the principal of the thing. Then, horror of horrors, the darn thing started letting down more of its disgusting web and inching towards my face! My encouragement for Shelby to kill it became all the more impassioned, when all of a sudden, I heard this strange noise. I looked up, and we were driving on the curb, inching towards a telephone pole. I'm sure my guardian angel must be tired right now, because I don't know how I avoided hitting it, but I did. (Maybe it was like those old Family Circus comics, where you see all the places that Little Billy has been, with his exhausted guardian angel panting behind him, after having saved from from falling out of trees, tripping into holes, etc infinitum.) Shelby and I collected our wits, laughed a trifle hysterically, and continued on our way.

I was further humbled by the fact that we passed a wreck on our way home, and the girl was just getting loaded into the ambulance. I do thank the Lord for keeping Shelby and I safe today.

Still, it seems my old friend, the black cloud of doom, has settled over my head once again. My computer, narrow misses....hopefully it won't affect my finance grade tomorrow! Mon Dieu!

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Sorry, God.....

My friends, I have done a terrible thing. Yes, I've broken a commandment. I've killed. Today, while I was vacuuming my room, I tripped over a chord and alas and alack-I fried the motherboard on my computer! I think I also fried the fatherboard...and maybe even the grand-niece's board. Therefore, I hereby post this notice that updates to this honored blog might not be coming as readily as has been its wont until I buy a replacement. I'm hoping that one can be ordered either today or tomorrow, but it'll probably be a few days until it arrives. I know that you're all heartbroken about this, but we each must do our share to soldier on in spite of difficulties.

And to Mr. Vowell, this message: If you wish to join the honored body of Pseudo-Rivendell, you need to submit a petition in comment form from your own realm. We would be happy to give you a place in the council room!

Go Tigers!
-Lady K

Friday, February 22, 2008



Oh so slowly the cocoon breaks
Such a miracle, such a gift!
Who would expect that the ugly
Little caterpillar would ever fly?

Who would know that the crawling
Would becoming soaring on high?
Who would suspect that plain body
Would become glorious colors?

Through the dormant months and years
The creature waited, expectant
Knowing that the darkness wouldn’t last
Someday the light would break through.

Then, it came!
A sliver, a precious piece of sunshine
Broke through the shell
Wet, but jubilant, a new being appears.

A crawling thing no more, but a butterfly
A creature of the sky and wind emerges
No more drudgery of the ground,
But a glorious freedom of the air.

Colors, for plainness
A sky for the ground
Though the cocoon was dark and dreary
In the end, it produced a butterfly.

God in his wisdom gave this example
That we might remember His plan.
He loves those He chastens,
The darkness of the soul, the cocoon.

When the time is right, we emerge
We fly for His glory.
Changed, renewed, transfigured.
Be as the butterfly.

Dance To The Music!

Ladies and gentlemen of the Realm, your attention, please!

It is my greatest honor to announce that once I hit the "publish" button, this blog will have reached its hundredth post! I hereby pronounce tonight to be an official holiday (convenient, isn't it, since it's Friday night?) in celebration of this Centennial.

This blog has been a gift for me. It's allowed me to ask questions, to explore my creativity, and to connect with friends on a deeper level. It's strange, but I've always been more comfortable writing my feelings that really even saying them. Being able to express myself to my friends in this manner has been a very great blessing. I can only pray that you, my friends, have seen some semblance of progress in me.

Now then, Bobby, would you be so good as to start the music? I'm in particular need of a good ole "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" dance. And Jess, love, you'll find the eats and the disco ball behind you. Let's rock this joint!

Thursday, February 21, 2008


Once upon a far away time
When the world was growing old
A young woman was suffering
Feeling lonely and cold.

She lived a privileged life
Missing nothing but love
She thought about quitting life
It was all she ever thought of.

The night before she took her life
She dreamed a dream deep and strong
And though it was not long in minutes
It lasted her whole life long.

She dreamed she saw a man
Whose smile was gentle and kind
She knew immediately, without a doubt
That she was the only one on his mind.

His hand was filled with strength
His eyes soft and glowing
And his compassion for her was so great
It was beyond all human knowing.

Then the man began to speak
In tones firm and sweet
and while he spoke to her gently
His hand with hers did meet.

“My child, why do you feel alone?
Why are you so desolate and afraid?
Do you not know that I have loved you
Since the moment you were made?

“Look my child and see your home
That has been here all along
Turn away from your dark thoughts
And stop singing the dying song.”

The young woman turned and gasped
At the wondrous sight she saw
Where the air itself was love
And compassion was the only law.

Brilliant colors swept the sky
In jewel tones so pure and bright
A beautiful song filled the air
and kept away the night.

Like the touch of eternal springtime
A sweet warmth was in the air
Enfolding her in a gentle embrace
And playing with the ends of her hair.

On the wind was the scent of flowers
Unlike any other born of earth
It spoke of joy and beginnings
Of trials overcome, and rebirth.

A silken garment, e’er so soft
Caressed her tired frame
The golden shoes upon her feet
Would heal even the lame.

A silver circlet was upon her head,
a ring of jade rested on her hand
a music more beautiful than ever heard
was played by an unseen band.

Then the man spoke again
His words with care she did heed
For somehow she knew in her heart
His words were all she did need.

“My child, all those who here dwell
Are given the name they earned
While doing their work on earth
And practicing lessons learned.

“All the tests given to them down there
Are sent by me; that they might grow
In all that they are meant to be
And learn all that they need to know.

“When you again come to this place
To live in your eternal home
If you learn the lessons I have sent
And practice in the years to come:

“Patience, we will call you
For all the heavens to hear!
For you will have overcome the test
that seems to cut and sear.

“You will have learned joy under sorrow
Faith in every crisis
Keep holding onto my hand
And listen to this promise.

“I will never leave you, my love
You are never outside of my grace
But wait until the time I give you
To enter into this place.

“Hold steady and firm, my child
And let your faith truly believe
That soon this trial will be over
And every sorrow will leave.”

The young woman smiled with joy
As she held her Savior’s hand
And she determined to live and learn
And one day join that gracious band.

Many years later, an old woman lay
Quietly and sweetly in her bed.
Surrounded by her dearly loved ones,
here is what she said:

“My children, do not struggle under tests
And do not blame your Lord
He has sent this trial, true
But it is only for your reward.

“He will uphold you in all you do
And give you your desires
Just rest in his strength and wait
To be led from the traps and mires.”

Then the old woman smiled with joy
As she breathed her very last on earth
She was again met by that Man
While her body shook with bliss and mirth.

The Man again took her hand in his
And said in tones firm and sweet
“Welcome home, my beloved Patience
With great faith did your heart e’er beat.

“You have done all that I asked
With determination and strength
You have never stopped running
Nor gave up for any length.

“Now great is your reward, my child
You have earned your place in my home
Listen to the song of love, my child
And know that you are never more to roam.”

We should all learn the lesson
Of the woman young and old
Hold tight to the hand of the Lord
And do all that He has told.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Honorary Delegates, Please Come to Order

Most Honored Colleagues and Beloved Citizens and Friends,

In the first place, I’d like to thank you all for being here. Your presence both honors me and gives me joy. We have several items of business to take care of today, but your queen has decided to give you free air in compensation. I knew you’d all be pleased.

Privileged Delegates, our fair island of Pseudo-Rivendell has received a new offer of friendship and alliance from one of our kindred lands, that of Paradoxicon. It’s ruler and Ultimate Master has sent this missive, which I knew would interest you all:
Dear Queen, As the Supreme Architect of the Paradoxicon, I wish to make known, that diplomatic relations. There, that's right...I think. Anyway, I wish for technopilgrims on the way to electronic enlightenment to have free passage through thy glorious Dominion (no Star Trek reference intended). Please.DrewSupreme Architect of the Paradoxicon, Despoiler of Idiocy, Mocker of Mediocrity, Lover of All Things (Except those who don't feel the same way)

After much effort of mind, your queen was finally able to decipher this message. Architect Drew, your offer is graciously accepted on these terms: Firstly, that there be no political opinions expressed other than my own. After all, I AM Queen. Secondly….well, I can’t think of another term, so I acknowledge our land’s alliance, and I pledge our assistance to you whenever we feel the cause to be Right. Please take your seat alongside our most favored Lord Bobby.

Secondly, we ask for your most earnest prayers in regards to our most beloved sister, the Princess Shelby of the Shakespearean Realm. We have lately received a communiqué from the Princess’ physicians, and they relayed some troubling and slightly confusing news. Apparently, our lady Princess has some dilemma with her femurs. Parts of them, according to the scan, appear to be dead. Princess Shelby’s family all looked rather quizzically at her legs, which had seemed to be operating within normal parameters, and so this news was somewhat…odd. After some jokes about our Lady Princess being among the walking dead, her ladyship’s family decided to keep from being alarmed until further communication from her doctors. Still, the situation remains quite liquid, so any petitions offered to the Almighty on Princess Shelby’s behalf would be appreciated.

Hoping that you are all well, I remain,

The Queen

A Prayer

Dear God,

Please keep me from putting my foot in my mouth today. Thy will be done.



Sunday, February 17, 2008

He's Back!!!!!

The new Indiana Jones trailer is out!!!!!

Go see it! It rocks!


Row, Row, Row Your Boat to Pseudo-Rivendell

Good morning, neighbors! I hope you're all enjoying Pseudo-Rivendell as much as I am! You must be sure to tell me if there's anything I can arrange to bring you further contentment. I have only two items to bring to your attention, so never fear. I won't keep you from the Room of Fire and its stories and songs one second longer than I have to.

To begin with, I have received this communication from one of our newest neighbors, Miss Jesstheshepherd. My beloved friend says this in her missive: My dear sister, I would love a cottage of my own that I may share with my dear future husband Nathan. If I could just have my grassy knoll next to the ocean, with my remembrances of my dear Ireland, I would be very content. Nathan would also need his Apple computer, *sigh* sadly he cannot live without it. My own personal library, (aka The Beauty and the Beast one) would be amazing. Oh and a bathtub. I NEED a bathtub...What would you like to be addressed as, my Queen?
Jessica, your wish is my command. The Beast was a little grouchy about giving up his library, but I promised him an East Wing to go with his West Wing. This put him in a good humor, so the library is yours. I suppose Nathan can bring his computer, even though I don't like having too much technology in this haven of peace and tranquility. We are very glad to welcome you to our island, and I hope that you will be very happy here with us. Oh, and it isn't about what I want to be addressed as. It's the title that my people give me.

Secondly, I have decided that fussing about my finance class is only giving me an ulcer. I will do my best to accept the fact that I'm just not good at something at school, and just try to get through it. I've also decided that Mr. Walker's style of writing might not be my own, and that I should use my gift to the best of my ability. Thank you all for your gracious support! I'm so glad that you are here on my island with me.

Wishing you all the blessings in the world, I am,
The Queen

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Hey, Hey, It's Saturday!

Ahhh, Saturdays. The most beautiful day of the week. The true day of rest, not Sunday. When I was a kid, I was in this school program. I thought it was the coolest thing on the planet (I must have been six) because we all got to come to school in our pajamas and bring our pillows and stuffed animals. I can still remember bits of the song, we had such fun. They were as follows: "Hey, hey, it's Saturday! Sleeping til noon, watching cartoons!" Yeah, that's all I remember. However, I think that song has shaped my view of Saturdays. I didn't quite get to sleep until noon, but I did get to sleep late. I went to the grocery story for Mom, which was kind of fun. Now I'm in the midst of an anime marathon. I've watched "Castle in the Sky", "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind", and now I'm on "My Neighbor Tortoro", which I've never seen before. It's very cute so far. I do have some business to take care of for Psuedo-Rivendell, but the story is picking up now. I'll be back later! Byes!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

A Sad Loss for Our Dear Island Queen

Friends, we gather today on Psuedo-Rivendell to mourn. Not for Heath Ledger, not for Britney Spears, not even for the cake that I couldn't have. No, dear ones, we mourn my lost opinion of myself. Today, your Queen's gravity and sacred honor has received several blows. It all began in the Pit of Despair, which masquerades as my Finance Class. Ladies and gentlemen, to say that I'm clever in the financial realm would be to say that the sky is purple, namely, a big fat lie. Anyway, we had to endure a quiz on Tuesday. I studied long and hard, quizzed myself, and felt somewhat prepared. Imagine my dismay, friends, when I saw a not-so-nice grade today that I don't wish to write down for all prosperity. It surpassed no-so-niceness; it bombed. I was actually rather proud of myself. I was holding my head up, trying to be a big girl and take the grade like the strong woman I pride myself on being, when my professor walked over and looked at me sympathetically. That did it. The flood-gates opened, and I embarassed myself by starting to cry and couldn't stop. He was so kind, promising me that by the end of the class I would be getting A's and saying that he would help me. It was very sweet, and I managed to sob out the fact that I wasn't used to feeling stupid. Snobbish, perhaps, but the truth. He grinned and said that I was smarter than a lot of the kids in there, and even though he assumed I was in the Honors Program for something other than my mathematical skills, he was pretty sure I could get this. Isn't he a sweetheart? So I dusted myself out, got home, and tried to move on with my life and acting like the fact that I'm single yet again on Valentine's Day didn't matter. Which it really doesn't, it's just mildly annoying. Tangent! Anyway, I drove back to school tonight to my night class, Creative Writing. Right up my alley, right? Ha! With every word my professor says, I feel like I lack the Genius and Depth of Feeling necessary to be a good writer. It's maddening. Still, I shall persevere, simply because I like writing so much. It's a release. In any case, now that I've written this all down I feel enormously better and realize that I was acting rather melodramatically. So, dear citizens, instead of mourning the loss of my pride, why don't we have a party? Popcorn, anyone, while I put in The Emperor's New Groove?

Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day, all! Or for those of you who find youselves in my position, Happy Single Awareness Day! I'm always amazed at how modernized holidays have become. Christmas is now about fat guys in suits, and Valentine's is about love and whether you have a boyfriend or not. Ugh.

In an effort to end some of the ignornace this country has towards Valentine's Day, I submit the following. Congratualtions, America, we somehow made a holiday to celebrate a martyr into a glorification of flowers and chocolate! Enjoy! I may post again tonight, depending on whether the spirit moves me or not.
Saint Valentine
Saint Valentine (in Latin, Valentinus) is the name of several martyred saints of ancient Rome. Of the Saint Valentine whose feast is on February 14, nothing is known except his name and that he was buried at the Via Flaminia north of Rome on February 14. It is even uncertain whether the feast of that day celebrates only one saint or two or more saints of the same name. For this reason this liturgical commemoration was not kept in the Roman Catholic calendar of saints for universal liturgical veneration as revised in 1969.[2] Traditional Roman Catholics continue to venerate St. Valentine on his feast day, February 14.
In the Eastern Orthodox Church, Saint Valentine the Presbyter, is celebrated on 6 July,[3] and Hieromartyr Saint Valentine (Bishop of Interamna, Terni in Italy) is celebrated on 30 July.[4]
The name "Valentine" does not occur in the earliest list of Roman martyrs, which was compiled by the Chronographer of 354. The feast of St. Valentine was first established in 496 by Pope Gelasius I, who included Valentine among those "... whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose acts are known only to God." As Gelasius implied, nothing was known, even then, about the lives of any of these martyrs. The Saint Valentine that appears in various martyrologies in connection with 14 February is described either as:
A priest in Rome
A bishop of Interamna (modern Terni)
A martyr in the Roman province of Africa.[5]
The name "Valentine", derived from valens (worthy), was popular in late antiquity.[6]
Various dates are given for the martyrdom or martyrdoms: 269, 270, or 273.[7]
The official Roman Martyrology for February 14 mentions only one Saint Valentine.
English eighteenth-century antiquarians Alban Butler and Francis Douce, noting the obscurity of Saint Valentine's identity, suggested Valentine's Day was created as an attempt to supersede the pagan holiday of Lupercalia. This idea has lately been contested by Professor Jack Oruch of the University of Kansas. Many of the current legends that characterise Saint Valentine were invented in the fourteenth century in England, notably by Geoffrey Chaucer and his circle, when the feast day of February 14 first became associated with romantic love.[8]
While a Website of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia and other sources give different lists of Saint Valentines, the Catholic Church's official list of recognized saints, the Roman Martyrology lists seven: a martyr (Roman priest or Terni bishop?) buried on the Via Flaminia (February 14), a priest from Viterbo (November 3), a bishop from Raetia who died in about 450 (January 7), a fifth-century priest and hermit (July 4), a Spanish hermit who died in about 715 (October 25), Valentine Berrio Ochoa, martyred in 1861 (November 24) and Valentine Jaunzarás Gómez, martyred in 1936 (September 18).[9]

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

On This Island

Will all the honorary citizens of Pseudo-Rivendell please come to order? Thank you. I've called you all here today for this town meeting because there are several items of business to which we must all attend to in a timely fashion. Because I am a modern monarch, I will share the decision process with you (with the clear understanding that I may not take your advice and just act as I please anyway. I knew you wouldn't mind...) so please listen carefully.

The first item on today's agenda has been offered by the queen mother, Lady Karen of the Many Chicken Dishes (she cooked tonight, yummm). Her Ladyship submitted the following missive:
The Queen-Mother wishes to announce that she would be most interested in a hut all her own on this peaceful island. Will yearly forays into the mysterious world of Disney be included?
Fear not, your ladyship. You will not receive a hut; instead, I have arranged for you to reside in Cinderella's castle. Your own personal helicopter is at your disposal to escourt you directly to the front of the line at the Tower of Terror as well. I hope that these gifts are satisfactory, and adequately portrays my desire to rise up and call you blessed.

The second item for us to attend to is a request from our most honored and beloved ally, Lord Bobby of Mock-Ithilien. He writes the following:
To Katie, Queen of Pseudo-Rivendell once again come fondest greetings from Bobby, Lord High Marshal of Mock-Ithilien. My dear friend, I cannot tell you how delighted I am to hear of your eager acceptance of my proposal! I am certain our people shall become well nigh indistinguishable from one another, given enough time! On that note, I would very much enjoy a visit to your fair Island. Would it be shameless of me to invite myself over, sometime? I promise to send advance notice of at LEAST two minutes, if not more! Yours truly, Lord Bobby
In reply, my most honored Lord, I must say that your presence is always eagerly awaited. You may come whenever you can avail yourself of the opportunity, and you are very welcome to bring your Lady as well.

Finally, I wish to remind all my citizens that comments on my rule are eagerly awaited (that means you, Jess and Jon and Shelby and the rest of you Crichton crowd. I want you to comment!) and it is easily accomplished. Merely push the blue comment button, and all will be arrange through my economical and highly efficent postal service.

Because there are no further business items to take care of, aside from a gentle reminder at my people giving me an appropriate title (Queen Katie sounding awfully chopped off), I will offer you all my very fondest wishes for your health and happinesses. You are dismissed! Go and enjoy this land of my imagination.
Sincerely Yours,
The Queen


J.R.R. Tolkien Estate Sues 'Rings' Studio
Posted: 2008-02-11 17:12:57
Filed Under: Movie News
LOS ANGELES (Feb. 11) - The estate of "Lord of the Rings" creator J.R.R. Tolkien is suing the film studio that released the trilogy based on his books, claiming the company failed to pay a cut of gross profits for the blockbuster films.The writer's estate, a British charity dubbed The Tolkien Trust, and original "Lord of the Rings" publisher HarperCollins filed the lawsuit against New Line Cinema on Monday in Los Angeles Superior Court.The lawsuit claims New Line was required to pay 7.5 percent of gross receipts from the films to Tolkien's estate and the other plaintiffs. A call to a spokesman for New Line, a unit of Time Warner Inc., was not immediately returned.The films - 2001's "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring," 2002's "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers," and 2003's "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" - have reaped nearly $6 billion combined worldwide, according to the complaint.The plaintiffs seek more than $150 million in compensatory damages, unspecified punitive damages and a court order giving the Tolkien estate the right to terminate any rights New Line may have to make films based on other works by the author, including "The Hobbit."Such an order would scuttle plans New Line has in the works to make a two-film prequel based on "The Hobbit

I Give!

Ok, ok, I yield! Here's your old stupid buggy format back. I'll keep trying to understand why my picture won't center and you guys won't have to face a change. *grumbles* I'll post a longer message tonight! Be good, everyone!
-The Mgmt

Tuesday, February 12, 2008


Hello, folks! As you can tell, I've been fussing with the blog's format. The other one was being thoroughly annoying and wouldn't do what it was told. Darn technology taking over everything! If you absolutely hate this, do tell me and I'll go back to the other. A longer post to follow this evening. Thank you!
-The Mgmt.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Pseudo-Rivendell's First Diplomatic Contact

Dearest friends, we gather today in order to observe Pseudo-Rivendell's first order of business. An ambassador has delivered this kind and thoughtful missive, which I place here in its entirety:

To Katie, the new owner of Pseudo-Rivendell, come greetings and goodwill from Bobby, benevolent and lovable monarch of the Island of Mock-Ithilien.Welcome to the world of dictatorship! Enjoy your new home, and come visit often! You'll get a set of rules on your arrival, much similar to your own list. It is my dearest wish that we shall draw our islands together in mutual peace, prosperity, and alliance.May your business prosper, and your people flourish under your reign! God bless!

Queen Katie wishes to offer Lord Bobby her grateful thanks, and agrees that an alliance shalt be forged. Pseudo-Rivendell offers its strength in arms whenever the world tries to enter the sacred realm of Mock-Ithilien, and begs Mock-Ithilien to join Pseudo-Rivendell whenever entertainment is presented. Together, our two great isles will be certain to retain whatever magic and peace that is yet present in the world. May you rule with grace and mercy, as is your wont! With all sincerity, Queen Katie the Lady Who Doesn't Yet Have a Title. She believes in such things being granted by her subjects. Any ideas should be left in comment form. Thank you all!

Sunday, February 10, 2008

A Veiled Help in the Night

You guys are lucky-two posts in one night! Here’s something I wrote while waiting for a class to start. Still rough, but you’ll get the idea.

She shines so bravely in the night
Through a clear, ivory veil of light
Smiling down from her awesome height
But few see her power, her subtle might!

Her handmaidens move in a fiery dance
Showcasing her beauty and her romance
All men her worship, when they get the chance
Her rejection cuts them like a red-hot lance.

But few know the jobs she willingly performs
Without which men would be sadly forlorn.
Her elder brother, scorching Sun, the lady reforms
When his volcanic malice would make all deformed.

She bathes the world in her cooling embrace,
Shading the earth from Sun’s hot chase.
When her job is over, she finishes her race
But returns again soon, no matter the case.

The Swiss Family Johnson

Here, on my own desert island, there are a few rules that we all must follow or suffer the wrath of....well, me. The island, aptly named Pseudo-Rivendell, is quite charming. I don't ever intend to return to that dirty and putrid of my birth. Tangent! In any case, the rules are as follows: 1.) There is absolutely NO mention of any sort of election. We're not going to talk about how I've completely lost all faith in Bush after he endorsed McCain. My ears are getting slightly sandy from where I've hidden my head from having to think about the election, but it's a small price to pay. 2.) At least five hours of the day are dedicated to lounging in bed and reading delightful books. 3.) Writers are free to pursue their loves and allow their characters to BREATHE, as Mr. Walker (my brilliant professor) says. 4.) No cats allowed. Dogs are very welcome. 5.) If anyone even brings a hint of the flu on my island, they are immediately and callously deported. They may return after they've been in quarantine and washed in a tub of chlorox. 6.) There will be NO mention AT ALL about pesky economics classes. 7.) An anime will be shown every afternoon, with a discussion which follows. The evening entertainment will either be dancing, watching a fire, singing, or discussing the romance of Grissom and Sarah and the superiority of Captain Picard. 8.) All bugs and snakes have been exiled to their very own ghetto at one end of the island. 9.) Huts must be kept tidy at all times. I don't know when I became a neat person, but the habit has been slowly creeping upon me. 10.) All musical instruments are heartily welcomed. There, now, doesn't Pseudo-Rivendell sound like a paradise? Too bad I have to go to school tomorrow.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

In Which the Author Makes an Apology and Promises to Start Anew

I would like to apologize for being a wet blanket. My pity party is over now. Hopefully you'll have some more cheerful stuff to read soon. Thank you.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

A New Beginning

Today is an important date. Yes, Wednesdays themselves are always nice-they mean that we're halfway through the week. However, that isn't what I mean today. Today happens to be Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. I've decided to observe Lent this year, in an effort to strengthen my relationship with God and hopefully get a better handle on my life and attitude. An integral part of Lent is giving something up for the forty days of the season, usually something that you cannot easily give up, in the hope of causing you to lean more fully upon God. I've decided to give up all candy, sweets, ect. Since my sweet tooth is highly overdeveloped, this will prove to be slightly difficult, I'm sure. However, I'm convinced that this is the sacrifice God asks of me, and is considerably less than His own sacrifice. Please pray for me throughout this season, as I will unceasingly pray for you, my friends. All my love.

Monday, February 4, 2008

A Letter For Him

Dearest beloved,

I don't know where you are, when we'll meet, or even if we know each other. I don't know what age I'll be when I find you, what you look like, or even your name. Maybe I know you now, and we just haven't found each other yet. For whatever reason, tonight I felt like writing you a letter. Yes, I admit that this desire can be seen as slightly strange-writing a letter to "the unknown" love that waits in a blurry future isn't something that is done everyday, at least so far as I know in my limited experience in such matters. Yet, somehow, it feels so natural. I've always liked writing letters, and I can only hope that you'll appreciate this effort of mine one night to write down my feelings for you.

Because I'm lonely. Oh, yes, I won't deny it. I ache to find out who I was created for, because I do believe that God creates us all with the perfect person in mind. If we would only shut up and listen for His guidance, I think the world would be a far happier place than it is now. So I know without a doubt that while I was still in my mother's womb, comfortable in the embrace of my siblings, you were somewhere waiting. Perhaps you were still waiting to leave heaven, or perhaps you were already walking and talking. No matter where you were, God knew you and knew that we were destined to find one another.

I want you to know that I'll wait for you. I'll keep my body pure, and my heart whole until God brings you into my life. I don't mind waiting anymore, because I know that any pain that waiting causes me will be infinitely worth your love and respect. I can only hope that you've waited for me, and that you also trust in God's divine love and guidance.

I'm crying as I write this, dearest. I'm a deeply sensitive and loving person, who's had to learn to have a killing wit in order to survive the cruelties of this world. However, when you appear, know that the prickliness will disappear, and that I will be eagerly waiting to learn everything about you. I want to know you-your triumphs, your failures, your dreams, fears, everything that has shaped you into the person that you are. I love you so very much already-imagine the puddle I'll become when we finally know one another!

I've suddenly realized where I got this idea-from a movie my mother adores, called "The Love Letter." A woman, a poet actually, living during the civil war, one night wrote down her feelings for her beloved, a man that she had never met. She put the letter in the secret compartment of her desk, where it was found hundreds of years later by a man named Scotty. I won't go into the details of the story, but I find that I deeply resonate with this fictional heroine, partly because I live in stories most of the time. I can't put this letter in my desk because it would almost certainly get lost and thrown away someday, organization not being one of my strong points. However, I think I'll end this letter the same way Lizzie does in the movie-not because of any attempt to mirror the film, but because the words have always echoed deep within my soul.

Goodnight, my dearest. Dream of me.