A Declaration to the World

This is a notice that you would all do well to......ahem, notice. To the heartily unkind person that stole my body and gave it to the allergen gremlins, this warning: you have to sleep sometime. Someday I will recover the use of my throat, and then I will proceed to sing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" under your bedroom window until you go wild with sleep deprivation. Insert evil laugh here. -The Mgmt.

A Series of Random Events

On Friday night, Mom asked me to drive over to El Porton to pick us up some dinner. Shelby was on a date with Jordan and Evan was...somewhere, I don't know where, and we were all alone. It was time for a little Katie/Mom splurge. It had already been a fun day. I had slept a little late that morning, then I drove out to Crichton and met some pals for lunch. The only people missing from the group that would have further added to my happiness were Jessica, Jon, and Julianne. I wonder why most of my friends have "J" names? Random! After lunch, I drove to a business building to drop off our car insurance checks, and it felt like I was stuck in a Die Hard movie. The building was laid out exactly like the Nakatomi Building, and I kept waiting for Bruce Willis to pop through the elevator ceiling, barefoot and smoking a cigarette. After that, I hit Borders, which didn't have the book I was looking for, which I incidentally found at Target, of all places. I'm starting to lose faith in Borders.

In any case, it had been a long, but fun, day, and dinner with Mom sounded good. So I got in my car and drove over. It isn't a long drive, but the last time I drove there at night, I accidentally blew a tire when I jumped the curb. My depth perception at night is pretty stinky, so I was glad it was fairly light when I got there. It's usually impossible to get a parking space in the same hemisphere as the restaurant at El Porton, so I cheerfully held up traffic for a few minutes when I saw a women coming out at just the right time! I usually hate holding up traffic, but c'est la vie. I was there first.

Going to El Porton is always an interesting experience for me. Almost without fail, someone flirts with me. I'm not used to being flirted with...I don't consider myself pretty enough for guys to bother with, so maybe they're always desperate or drunk. This isn't a case of me depreciating myself, so no comments, please. I know that I have a lot to offer the world, I just think that my assets are more in the personality department. I'm definitely no Twiggy Blondie. In any case, it can be entertaining.

I walk over to the bar, which is, incidentally, where you have to pick up to-go orders. I'm not very comfortable around bars, especially on Friday nights when people are apt to be a little crazy anyway from Thank God It's Friday-itis. But cheese dip is worth it, so I strode up and asked for my order. There, behind the bar, was standing one of the gayest guys I've ever seen in my life. He had limp wrist syndrome and everything. This doesn't bother me like it used to--I've decided that my primary loathing towards people is towards idiots and slugs, so if a gay guy gets in there and works hard, I can deal with it. We started chatting, and I actually enjoyed our conversation. We had similar sarcastic senses of humor. It turned out that he's a student at U of M, majoring in International Business. I asked if that involved a lot of PR, and he asked what PR was. Ok, so maybe the idiot thing was there, but I was bored. They still hadn't brought out my food. He apologized for my having to wait and I shrugged. "What else do I have to do? It's Friday night." He looked at me knowingly and nodded. "No life, huh?" I laughed and said, "I'm a college student. Of course I have no life!"

We kept talking, and it turned out that he came from the same part of Arkansas that my family is from. His folks must be so proud. Still, I did feel an overwhelming desire to break out into "It's a small world, after all..."

It all goes to show that even picking up food can become an adventure with me around.

Transformation

In childhood, I was the butterfly
Brightly colored, joyous, energetic
I flitted from here to there, helter-skelter
Content to be on the move, happy to be loved.
Hues were vibrant, sounds beyond all description.
The little bird, chirping merrily,
Never caring whether I was on key or not.
I was the butterfly.

Later, a blow came.
The butterfly lost its wings. The joy left the world.
The light went out, almost, but never quite.
It kept going.
I became the firefly then, a creature of the evening.
The light was faint, sometimes going out,
But always returning, never dying.
Hope was faint, but it never left.

And today? What am I today?
Today I became the phoenix.
The layers of pain became a prison that could not hold me.
The flames renewed, restored the joy.
The journey has been long, but today the flight,
The sky is worth it all.
Bitterness, pain, resentment, I suddenly realize
Have led me to today.

Today, I became the phoenix.

Who Are You?????

Ok, folks, I've been looking at my world map that shows where I've been getting hits from. I've got people in Australia, Italy, what looks to be Spain....my question is simple.

Who are you???? And how did you stumble across my blog? I'm fascinated with meeting people from other countries, so please. Don't be shy. Leave me a comment!

Many thanks!
-The Mgmt

Hobbit Revelation

My mom and I have been having a Lord of the Rings marathon the past two days. Well, I say marathon. We watched half of Fellowship last night, and the other half tonight. She can’t stay up too late, so we’re taking it very slow. In any case, I’ve been enjoying it immensely. You forget how much you love these movies, how magical they are… I’ve decided I want the hobbit party music played at my wedding reception. Insert smiley face here.

In any case, tonight we were watching the scenes in Moria, which is one of my favorite segments in the movie. The drums have started, the orcs are coming, and they have a cave troll. Aragorn shouts for the hobbits to get back and to stay close to Gandalf. As I watched that, I suddenly had a supremely idiotic thought: “Why in the world are there are four little hobbits in the Fellowship? Frodo, yeah, he’s the ring-bearer. But still, not only do Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf have to help Frodo, they somehow have to keep the other hobbits safe as well. That’s just kind of dumb.” Despite this difficulty, we never see a glimmer of indignation from the other members of the fellowship—not even Boromir seems annoyed. He’s more mother hennish towards the hobbits than anything. Of course, there is the inevitable humor that comes when you find yourself considering this hardened, tempted man of the South to be anything like a mother hen.

However, I think for the first time, I had to think consciously through the reasons why Tolkien as an author put the hobbits into the tale at all. Always before, I just kind of accepted their presence without question. They were there, it was cool, let’s get on with the show, and show me some more Legolas stunts. When you analyze the situation, though, these bewildering questions seem superfluous at best. (I love that word.)

The reason seems obvious, I suppose, but having the hobbits present really was a stroke of brilliance. The audience can identify the best with Merry, Pippin, Sam and Frodo. We’re fond of Aragorn, love Gandalf as a father, respect Legolas, and laugh with Gimli, but these characters are all too aware of what is going on around them. They’re capable of taking care of business, yes, but they’re too savvy of the world. In the hobbits, the audience can hear their questions given a voice, and are taught how to survive in this strange new world through the hobbits’ experiences. They need a completely different set of skills in this realm that is so different from the comfortable and simple Shire.

There’s another reason, though, one that I think is a little less obvious. Gosh, I feel like an idiot for having never thought this through before—Mr. Walker must be getting through to me. The reason is as follows: I believe Tolkien was trying to prove the old Biblical adage that a person will never be given more to carry than he can bear. The hobbits were taken away from everything they knew, and they found it very difficult at first. Sam’s line when he and Frodo first left home is especially poignant: “Everywhere I lie there’s another dirty gray root pokin’ into my back. I’ll never be able to sleep out here.” There would come a time when Sam would have loved a quiet piece of ground to snuggle up against; he went without sleep, food and water for days on end with Frodo in Mordor. He never would have believed himself capable of such hardship…or such bravery. Sam always had the nobility of character required to be a hero, he’d just never had a chance to access his own strength when he was living as a simple gardener in the Shire.

All of the hobbits went through similar transformations. Elrond himself foresaw this possibility when he said, “This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields, to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it?” When Frodo realizes that he must continue on the journey alone, he smacks the tears from his cheeks and sets off. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing or where he’s going, but he knows that it has to be done. That, my friends, is true courage that only a few people had seen in him before. That, my friends, is faith. It is in the hobbits that we fully see the journey towards fulfilling God’s purposes for us. It is in the hobbits that the audience can understand the true nature of courage and capability. It is in the hobbits that the real story lies.

Let us celebrate a simple life.

Proverbs 31

'A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ that a man should have to seek Him first to find her.'

Maya Angelo

All I can say to that is "Amen."

The Fog

Violence rises, leering, jeering
Revealing the truth in all of us
Unmasks us of our falseness, our justifications
But allowing some gray
Some way.

The fog rises
I know it, for I’ve seen it before
Once in a dream, and once in reality.
It encompasses me, and offers a thin tendril of hope
Is there more to the world?
Can the violence be tempered?
Can the gray be found?
Found in the fog?

Does humanity deserve the fog?
In a world of crisp, clean lines
Do we deserve the chance to lose sight of the rules
To allow the fog to surround us
To forget, be cleansed of the violence
Do we?

What is this fog, this thing that might save us?
What is the masked glory
That strips away all masks? That blurs away all consistencies?
I know it, for I’ve seen it before
Once in a dream, once in reality.
Do you wish to know what the fog offers the world?
It is the hope
The hope of a fairy tale.

Too childish, you cry!
How can fantasy fight
Fight against a cold, cruel world of lines?
It is in fantasy that people can change
Redemption can be found.
With nothing but hope, hell becomes heaven
The beast becomes a king
The unloved becomes the lover.

There is a fog I know, that offers a chance
A chance away from the violence, the lines.
Will you spurn the fairy tale?
Will hope pass you by?
Will you let it?

-Katie Johnson

Be Near Me

"Be near me when my light is low,
When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick
And tingle; and the heart is sick,
And all the wheels of being slow.

Be near me when the sensuous frame
Is racked with pangs that conquer trust;
And Time, a maniac scattering dust,
And Life, a Fury slinging flame.

Be near me when my faith is dry,
and men the flies of latter spring,
That lay their eggs, and sting and sing And weave their petty cells and die.

Be near me when I fade away,
To point the term of human strife,
And on the low dark verge of life.
The twilight of eternal day." -Alfred, Lord Tennyson

What's Your Perfect Day?

"He said the pleasantest manner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning till evening on a bank of heath in the middle of the moors, with the bees humming dreamily about among the bloom, and the larks singing high up overhead, and the blue sky and bright sun shining steadily and cloudlessly. That was his most perfect idea of heaven's happiness: mine was rocking in a rustling green tree, with a west wind blowing, and bright white clouds flitting rapidly above; and not only larks, but throstles, and blackbirds, and linnets, and cuckoos pouring out music on every side, and the moors seen at a distance, broken into cool dusky dells; but close by great swells of long grass undulating in waves to the breeze; and woods and sounding water, and the whole world awake and wild with joy. He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine..." -Wuthering Heights, chapter 24, Catherine and Linton. Opinions, please.

Update

So, I think that last post was totally melodramatic.......

Yeah.

Don't worry, I'm better now. I think the snow went to my head a little bit.

Anyway, it strikes me that Pseduo-Rivendell's business is striking up....except that Pseudo-Rivendell doesn't really have any business at the moment. So, please. I'm issuing this official request for somebody to break a law or something to give this peaceful paradise some much-needed craziness.

Oh, and we didn't have a quiz in Finance, and I got my grade for the class at the moment. I have a B! Praise ye the Lord!

Toodles!
Me

I'm Dreaming of A White Easter

I'm sitting in the library up at school at the moment, snuggled on my favorite couch. Outside the window beside me, a veritable shower of snow is falling, falling, falling...and melting on the ground. We finally get snow, and the ground is too warm for it to stick! God definitely has a sense of humor. Still, it's very beautiful. I'm reminded of a line in a poem by Robert Frost: nothing gold can stay. Snow isn't gold in color, but it is gold in essence. It falls down and purifies the ugly detritus of leaves and dirt that the winter showers have left on the ground, and it brings water to a thirsty soil. What is more, it brings joy to my heart. We don't get snow very often here, and it is therefore highly prized. Snow is all about renewal, for without the moisture that it brings, the spring flowers would die. Without the cold it announces, Memphis would be overrun with bugs. It kills the pollens and other nuisances that fly around. Evan, Jon and I ran outside for a while and pretended to play. It reminds me of other snowy days, when my siblings and I would go outside and build the most pathetic snowmen possible, because there was never enough to build a proper snowman. But snow melts. Therefore, nothing gold can stay.

Steven Urkel Has Nothing On Me....

I have got to be the biggest nerd on the planet. My new favorite activity? Yeah, it's watching Supernatural episodes while doing brain teaser puzzles on my bed. Yes, I shift around colored tiles while listening about ghosts for fun.

However, I did get an epiphany yesterday that may get me away from my brain teaser activities. I went outside to cut some daffodils, and got a sudden urge to revisit my childhood. I did, in fact, discover that the old adage is true: you never forget how to ride a bike. The tires being flat was a small deterrent, but I persevered and managed to wobble around the carport a few times. I used to really like riding my bike, and would do it for hours on end-until I grew too tall for kids' bikes, and the handlebars suddenly got really low. I couldn't balance with my weight shifted so low, and it hurt my back. I got tired of falling over and gave it up.

With this in mind, I got online and checked out bikes. I discovered that they make a certain kind now called "cruisers"...not to be confused with the diapers, please. These bikes have higher handlebars, and are just for going around the neighborhood. I found a nice Schwinn for a really good price, so I'm planning to take up cycling as my new hobby!

Well, this has been a nice break, but pattern twenty-three of my brain teaser book is calling-as is my finance homework, blast it. Who knew that bonds could be so irritating?

I wonder if my short story is too dramatic monologue-ish?

Blessings!
Love,
Me

Beautiful...

Many thanks to Jess for sending me these. Whenever I feel like I've expressed myself clearly, I find somebody else that has done it infinitely better. These gems are from T.S. Eliot: "Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.""Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves."

The Dance

I turned from You, You turned with me
I ran from You, but You pursued me.
When all I saw was dark, you shone bright
I didn’t know the dance.

I denied Your love, You loved me more
I broke Your rules, You cleaned the stain
Why couldn’t I understand that all along
You were dancing with me?

Turn for turn, step for step
You never missed a beat of my life
Holding my hand, holding me close
You danced with me.

When I finally stopped my fruitless race
I then learned that in my lonely walk
I was never alone, I finally knew
That He danced with me.

In the ballroom of eternity, He danced with me.