O I
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.
The World is Flat - Thomas Friedman
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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 iPodMahalia Jackson - "I'm going to live the life I sing about in my songs "
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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 satisfiedma.gnolia dominance

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 fatyes. well, let's be real. i'll be mostly eating for the next three weeks.
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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
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everything ever. sort of.
sometimes...poetry
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i'm going to live the life i sing about in my songs
the holiday: in chapter format
posted on: 12/29/05
original post date: 12/29/05

Chapter 1: Not to do you a dis-service.

Pookie cruises into the Starbucks on Murray Ave, sits down, strokes his chin contemplatively and says, " Have you written your journal entry on your holiday trip home yet?"

"No," I say, "Why do you ask?"

"Because, Jos, I feel that if you haven't written it yet, you'd be doing your readers a dis-service if you didn't talk about the huge, mounted menorahs."

So, let me talk about that, lest you get shortchanged if I don't. Most of my trip home was spent in Squirrel Hill, which is the center of JewPower in Pittsburgh. During Hanakuah, the Squirrel Hill faithful mounted huge, lit-up menorahs on top of their family sedans and mini-vans and drove around the streets of Pittsburgh yelling "Happy Hanakuah" out of the windows. I'm not talking about small lit-up menorahs. I'm talking about two-foot tall menorahs, and sadly little children yelling out of car windows that we should all enjoy this holiday that's one step down from Christmas.

Pookie strokes his beard again and says, "It's really, you know, tasteless. I mean, there's no way you can put something like that on top of your car and not realize that it's tasteless. But I guess every holiday has something that's tasteless. And really, I guess it's no worse than putting a magnetic ribbon on the back of your car."

"Really?" I say. "Is it really no worse than a magnetic ribbon on the back of your car? Really?"

Chapter 2: And then there was Friday Night

There was a lot of drinking of the alcoholic type while I was home. On Friday, Candy and Bill of the Big and I went out. First Candy and I went out, and most of what I remember involves walking into the liquore store and holding up a bottle of freakin' Beefeater and announcing that we could buy that shit and be just like my dad. I didn't even think it was funny, but apparently it was.

Candy is beautiful. This odd fusion hibachi, sushi, bar place called Nakama on Carson Street is hot. I drank endlessly. And then...

Candy asked me the next day, "Which is lower on your Christmas list this year? They day you woke up to find your family drinking Jim Beam at 5 in the morning, or having to listen to Bill and I fight at full volume all night long last night?"

And I looked at her like she couldn't be serious, because watching my family booze at five in the morning is hearwarming. Listening two people argue about taking the garbage out at four in the morning is not. On the other hand, it was entertaining. I don't want to make this sound like I didn't have a good time out with Candy, because despite lots of unexpectedness, it was so much fun. I'm just saying...I'm saying that if Candy weren't somebody I adore, I'd probably recreate some of that argument dialogue here and it would be amusing.

Chapter 3: And also, Wal-Mart

Here's what happened on Christmas Eve Saturday in Western PA.. EVERYBODY watched the Steelers' game. Then EVERYBODY said "Shit. I'm a present short. I better get my ass to Wal-Mart."

And

This is what you call a holiday?
Um, for real.
Copyright 2004, 2005 Jocelyn Saurini
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