Being means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn?t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!
We are called to be fruitful - not successful, not productive, not accomplished. Success comes from strength, stress, and human effort. Fruitfulness comes from vulnerability and the admission of our own weakness. sometimes...i read lovely stuff. sometimes...not.
Mists of Avalon
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If we do not bear the cross of the Master, we will have to bear the cross of the world, with all its earthly goods. Which cross have you taken up? Pause and consider. i would die without my iPodMissy Eliot - "Lose Control "
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There are many people who are sincere without being simple: they are ever afraid of being seen for what they are not; they are always musing over their words and thoughts and thinking about what they have done, in fear of having done or said too much. These people are sincere, but they are not simple: they are not at ease with others, and other people are not at ease with them. There is nothing easy about them, nothing free, spontaneous or natural. People who are imperfect, less regular, less masters of themselves, are more lovable. This is how people find them, and it is the same with God.

i am never satisfiedNorthern Exposure Season Three

or anything from my wishlist

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A brother said to an old man, ?I do not know of any warfare in my heart.? The old man said to him, ?Then you are a building open on all four sides. Whatever wishes to, goes in and out, and you do not notice. If you had windows and a door, and shut them so as to bar certain thoughts, you would soon realize how many there are outside, waiting to slip in and attack you.?

i fear fatnada
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I know that life is a doorway to eternity, and yet my heart so often gets lost in petty anxieties. It forgets the great way home that lies before it. Unprepared, given over to childish trivialities, it could be taken by surprise when the great hour comes and find that, for the sake of piffling pleasures, the one great joy has been missed. I am aware of this, but my heart is not. It seems unteach- navigate around, why don't you?
what i wrote yesterday
back to the homepage
everything ever. sort of.
sometimes...poetry
quote
mists of angry women
i finally finish that book
posted on: 9/30/05
original post date: 9/30/05

I still need to write about my trip to Iowa, which included the world's largest truck stop, riverboat gambling, Miracle and nature hiking, but it's been an exceptionally long week (yes, again), and I instead feel like writing about a book, a chair and reality TV. And I think you all prefer it that way, too.

Mists of Avalon
Have you ready this? Because, it is, you know, a classic. And also a made-for-tv movie on TNT (or something like TNT) starring that woman who played the nurse who dated George Clooney on ER. Just the other day, I had the Saturn in for maintanence (yes, again), and the little old woman feminist sitting across the table from me in the customer waiting area couldn't stop talking about how it was her favorite book ever. Ever, people.

She had spent most of her live in Berkeley and didn't shave. I think I need not say more.

Mists of Avalon is a re-telling, or if you're very hip a re-imagining, of the Arthurian legend told from the perspective of the women. And in this retelling, the following are true:

  • Guineviere is agoraphobic with an anxiety problem. And a bitch.
  • Lancelot is gay.

And already I'm lost. But I read it. All 700 pages of it, and at least it was 700 pages that were more engaging than the Bill Clinton autobiography, though had Bill told the whole story it may have been just as salacious. Not shockingly, at least 200 of the 700 pages were lengthy discussions of the beauty of the Goddess and the oppressive, awful nature of men. And hey, I love the Goddess too. But, well, yeah. Here's my review: I could deal with hating Guineviere. I could deal with Lancelot being gay. I could deal with the constantly harping on the oppressivness of men, if only I didn't have to hear about women's periods at least once a chapter. Once more with the discussion of the "moon courses" and I was going to shut the book and not reopen. And that is all.

CFT
So, I came into work the other day and Amazing Ry and Matty were standing outside my office with big smiles on their faces. "We got you a new chair," they said, and ushered me in to sit on my new chair. Which was quite nice and firm. But they were smiling, and that concerned me. So I asked, "Where did you get this chair?"

Yes, you can see it coming. The neighbor threw it out, but Ry and Matt salvaged it for me. Because they care. So now I sit in the proudly named CFT. Chair from Trash.

My Imaginary Conversation with Bobby John from Survivor

Me: I love you.

Bobby John: I love you, too. And I love fried chicken and tractors.

Me: I'd love to be trapped in Guatamala with you.

Bobby John: You could teach me to read!

Me: Oh, no, it's your total ignorance that will lead you right into my trap. Don't put that shirt back on!

 
I got misty just reading that.
I saw that movie on TNT. Hot.
Copyright 2004, 2005 Jocelyn Saurini
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