Friday, December 19th, 2003
3:36 p.m.
Well, this is my last day of posting for the next three weeks.  Tomorrow morning I take my last final and head on out of here, first to my grandparents', then to my great-uncle's, and then (finally!) home.  I'm probably going to be cranky all day because my relatives are keeping me from the comfort of my own home, but I'll do my best not to make my little cousins cry.  Maybe I'll teach them to play Uno; kicking butt at cards always makes me feel good.  Teaching someone else to kick butt makes me feel even better.  *evil cackle* 
     I should be packing right now; I've got to pack all my remaining clothes, my toiletries, my makeup, and a bunch of other assorted stuff that I don't want to leave up here because I might need it at home.  I've also got to take home my jewelry, and a bunch of stuff that I don't want to get stolen (not that it would go missing, but I just don't want to take that chance).  All in all, it's like moving back home for the summer, but on a one-fourth scale.  It's a pain, but I'll be glad to be home. 
     I've begun writing my own "You know you're a Ball State student when . . . " lists.  So far I'm up to #43, "You rejoice at being hired to shelve books at the library, because it's a job where you don't have to wear a hairnet."  My favorite one so far is #42, "You begin referring to the school as 'BS University.'" 
     To tide my faithful readers over while I'm gone, I've got two more installations of Caps Lock Theater for you, just to give you something to laugh at while I'm not around for your mocking pleasure. 

     YEAH I LOVE CHRISTMAS I GOT THIS AWESOME GAME LAST YEAR WITH LOTS OF NAKED CHICKS AND GUNS ALONG WITH MY NEW PS2 DUDE IT WAS SO SWEET AND I WAS AT THIS ONE PARTY AND DUDE THERE WAS LIKE NOG EVERYWHERE AND I GOT SO WASTED ON NOG YEAH IT WAS SO COOL I CAN'T WAIT TIL BREAK I HAVEN'T GOTTEN ANYTHING FOR MY MOM OR MY GIRLFRIEND YET THOUGH OH BUT HEY I GOT MYSELF THIS AWESOME DVD 

     YEAH I SAW THE LORD OF THE RINGS MOVIE I THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY GOOD BUT NOT AS GOOD AS THAT ONE HARRY POTTER MOVIE YEAH I THINK THEY RIPPED HARRY POTTER OFF BESIDES THERE'S LIKE TOO MANY CHARACTERS AND IT'S CONFUSING AND WHAT IS ALL THIS ABOUT BOOKS DID THEY LIKE MAKE THE MOVIES INTO BOOKS OR SOMETHING THAT IS SO CLICHED OH MY GOSH HEY HAVE YOU SEEN THE CAT IN THE HAT YEAH THAT WAS LIKE ALL FUNNY AND STUFF MIKE MEYERS IS SO TALENTED AND HE CAN ACT UNLIKE THOSE LORD OF THE RINGS LOSERS YEAH THEY HAVE WHAT LIKE TWO LINES EACH OH MY GOD 

     Heh heh.  When I return on January the eleventh, I will have seen Lord of the Rings at least twice (more, if I have anything to say about it), visited three different sets of relative on two separate occasions, fielded questions about my major from said relatives, and eaten more Christmas cookies than can possibly be good for me.  I will also have more (recent) pictures to put up, and hopefully will have scored some kewl lewt from the parental units and their progeny.  So until then, adieu, farewell, here's your hat what's your hurry, and Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!  So long, suckers!  I'M OUTTA HERE! 
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Thursday, December 18th, 2003
3:18 p.m.
A headline I would like to see (but probably never will):
     "Israeli Troops Carpet Bomb Arafat's Compound"  And then, for the subtitle: "Sharon tells UN: "I'm sick of my people being killed.  You can take your delegations and your resolutions and shove 'em."  Mmmmm. 
     You know, it's interesting that Saddam, for all his posturing, gave up without a fight.  He even had a gun right there with him, but instead of committing suicide, he let himself be taken alive.  I have a feeling that Arafat would do the same.  You see, it's my belief that no matter how much a dictator or terrorist claims that God is on his side, deep down inside them is a tiny nagging voice that says "That's what you think, pal."  And when it comes time to do and die, they can't bring themselves to pull the trigger because their cowardly streak runs so deep that they will do anything to live another day, to keep that voice from proving itself right. 
     The thought of that voice gives me a good feeling inside; it's the same fierce, joyful feeling that makes men sing and shout as they wade into battle, kicking butt and taking names.  I get that feeling when I imagine Old Testament battles, especially the ones led by David--I can just see the armies of Israel, massed against the enemies of God, revving themselves up and knowing that since their God was the real one, they would prevail.  I imagine they got the same feeling, looking out at the Philistines--"C'mon, guys, we can take 'em!"  It's a feeling that rides roughshod over fear, and turns shrinking violets into rampant Kudzu.  It's the feeling a mama bear gets when you mess with her cubs.  It's the sheer exhilaration of battle, and it is the essence of all righteous wars.  You can shout "Alluhu Akhbar" all you want, but in the end, you won't be shouting anything because my foot will be crushing your windpipe.  And that, my jihadist friend, is what that warm feeling is all about. 
     I like that feeling. 
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Sunday, December 14th, 2003
9:53 p.m.
Well, more and more good news: Much-Afraid doesn't have mono; she had walking pneumonia and she's practically over it.  This is a good thing, because it means I won't get mono, and I won't have to mess with her still being sick when we come back from break in January. 
     I wish it was Friday night instead of Sunday night, because then I'd be getting up early tomorrow to get ready to leave instead of going to my last philosophy class before finals.  Berkeley is really starting to get on my nerves; he's an arrogant prig who thinks that if something isn't perceived, then it doesn't exist.  Um, yeah.  Here's an idea for him: maybe we aren't the be all and end all of all creation.  Maybe if a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear it, it still makes a sound!  I wish we were learning Locke instead--he held the same view that I've held all my life.  He just used bigger words when he explained it, so people took him seriously. 
     Dagnabit, now the song's going through my head again.  Darn you Monty Python!  *shakes fist* 
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3:48 p.m.
WE GOT HIM! 
     Saddam Hussein Captured in Iraq Hideout

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Saturday, December 13th, 2003
2:24 p.m.
I just saw the new TV spot* for The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
     Nur nur nurnurnur. 
*It's in Quicktime, so give it a minute.  If you don't have Quicktime, get it here for free.  It's so much better than Windows or Real Player. 
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Friday, December 12th, 2003
4:30 p.m.
I wrote this for my English class, and it came back with a "10" at the top, along with a note that said "Hilarious!"  So I thought I'd share it here.  To give a little background, we've been studying interpreting literature, and using classic fairy tales as subjects.  We had to write our own take on either Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, and I chose Sleeping Beauty.  And now, without further ado, I present an original composition entitled "Well, It's About Time!" 

     "It's about time you got here!  Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you?  One hundred years, that's how long!  One hundred years!  What were you doing all that time, anyway?  You're not that young; you could have come and kissed me ten, twenty years ago but nooooo, you had to go and do you own thing, didn't you?  You just had to sow your wild oats before you got tied down, is that it?  We wouldn't want a handsome devil like yourself getting married too soon, now would we?  No, he's got to have his fun first.  Meanwhile I've been laying here, neglected, with a crick in my neck from this gawd-awful pillow, and all my clothes going more and more out of style, and no one to do my hair or my nails or give me a facial or anything, and just waiting--waiting!  That's all I know how to do anymore!  A few years more and I would have forgotten how to move!  Do you have any idea what it feels like to be off your feet for that long?  Oh sure, the first forty years or so are great, you've never felt so rested, so de-stressed, but after that it starts to get a little monotonous!  Thank you very much for showing up so promptly!  I really appreciate your timely arrival and the concern you showed in getting here so quickly!  And another thing, that kiss was the worst one I've ever had.  Who'd you practice with, a sofa cushion with a face drawn on it?  I had better kisses from the stable boy.  Heck, I got better kisses from--hey, where are you going?  Get back here!  You still have to marry me so we can live happily ever after!  GET BACK HERE!" 
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3:58 p.m.
I GOT A JOB!  OH YES I DID!  AND IT'S NOT IN FOOD SERVICE! 
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 
     Starting next semester, I'm going to be working as a page at Bracken Library.  I'm guaranteed at least ten hours a week for THREE SEMESTERS.  This is a good thing. 
     Now I can quit my job at the dining service and start doing something that doesn't require me to wear a hairnet and a uniform.  Two more shifts and then I'm done with them!  Ha! 
     Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do the dance of joy, as performed by the inimitable Sheik Yerbooti.  Uh-huh.  Uh-huh.  Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh. 
     OH yeah.  I feel GOOD. 
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Thursday, December 11th, 2003
11:15 p.m.
The third number in my countdown is the biggest one.  This is not a blessing to me.  If I had my way, the first and third numbers would both be "1" and the second number would be replaced with "I've already gone home; so long, suckers!"  But I have to wait another week for that.  Pooh. 
     I've got some stuff that I've been saving until next Friday night so that I can leave something good up while I neglect the site over break.  I was going to put the site files on a disk so I could work on them at home, but my parent's disk drive is tempermental at best, plus I'd have a heck of a time archiving.  I'm also not sure if the Ball State servers are going to be running at full speed over break; honestly, I'd be surprised if they were. 
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Tuesday, December 9th, 2003
9:26 p.m.
A few months back, I sprained my ankle and missed about three weeks of class.  This wasn't a problem except in two classes, Philosophy and PhysEd.  I was able to pull Philosophy up to a half-way decent grade (I hope--I'm pretty sure), but PhysEd is a bust.  This is the second time in a row I've failed that class.  Luckily I can take it as many times as I need to in order to pass it, but it's frustrating. 
     When I was in high school, my freshman year I squeaked by, my sophomore year I did a bit better, my junior year I almost flunked out, and finally in my senior year I got my act together.  I think the pattern is repeating itself, only now it's running at double-time and next semester should be the one where I break through and start doing a lot better. 
     I just wish that for once I would have a semester of school where I didn't have personal "issues" or health problems get in the way of my grades.  Even in my senior year I had troubles; I was just far enough advanced in the pattern that I was able to pull my butt out of the fire.  Maybe next semester will go smoothly. 
     I wanna go home. 
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Monday, December 8th, 2003
Blogging Blitzkreig!
10:29 p.m.
Sing it, sister: Mamamontezz tells it like it is
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10:26 p.m.
Well, crap on a stick.  According to theonering.net, the trailer for the next Harry Potter movie is going to be shown in front of LotR:RotK.  Crap, crap, crap(sorry, Mom).  Is it too much to ask that good fantasy be kept away from bad, poorly written, one-dimensional, waste-of-trees/celluoid/pixels downright evil fantasy? 
     Apparently it is.  Crap. 
     Sorry, Mom. 
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10:21 p.m.
If you've read my post at 7:44 on November 13th, you'll know that I was a Ritalin kid.  What a lot people don't know is that I get depressed easily and have a tendency to give up on things after only one or two tries.  What does this have to do with anything? 
     I found an interesting article today that sure explains a heck of a lot.  At least I don't have to worry about my crack-riddled body winding up face down in a gutter in Atlantic City with a C-note stuffed in my pants and no idea how I got there. 
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Sunday, December 7th, 1941
1:03 p.m.
A day that shall live in infamy. 
     Let us pray. 
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Saturday, December 6th, 2003
3:55 p.m.
Hi Livingstone! 
     Don't ask. 
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Friday, December 5th, 2003
9:49 a.m.
I found a very interesting article featured on blogs4god, and I thought I'd link to it and perhaps add a few of my own thoughts.  The article is about postmodernism and its effects of religion and theology, but what makes it interesting is that the author uses Star Trek and the Borg as a metaphor. 
     Last month I read That Hideous Strength, the third book in C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy.  THS is set "sometime after the war" and centers around a young woman and her husband who get caught up in a movement to save England and a movement to destroy it, respectively.  While the woman (Jane) casts her lot with a group of Christians (one of whom, the main character of the first two books, communicates directly with angels as a result of his previous adventures), the young man (Mark) is drawn into an organization called the National Institute for Co-ordinated Experiments, a bastion of secular postmodern philosophy.  At least, that's the face it presents to the world; in reality, the N.I.C.E. is a headquarters for the forces of darkness, and those in its inner circle are some of the most evil people imaginable.  But herein lies the greatest deceit: aside from a sadistic lesbian, they are all what society would deem harmless: a distracted academian, an apostate, humanistic priest, and a scientist.  Straik, the priest, is convinced that Jesus was a metaphor, and that the true Son of Man is Man himself, providing his own salvation through science, apart from God.  Frost, the scientist, believes that all emotions are merely chemical reactions in the brain, and that our natural revulsions and inhibitions are only societal constructs designed to keep us from reaching our full potential.  Wither, the academic, lives his life in a sort of stupor, putting up a facade to take care of the world around him while his real Self, his essence, becomes more and more distanced from his reality.  Each of these men comes to a bad end--Straik is murdered by Wither, Wither is mauled by a bear, and Frost is immolated when he sets fire to the N.I.C.E. headquarters.  It is upon Frost that I wish to focus. 
     There is perhaps no better way to put one's mind at risk than to deny the meaning of things.  To define emotions as chemical reactions, to claim that language, religion, and morals are all meaningless social constructs, is to deny life itself meaning.  What do we live for, but to give glory to God?  But if God's creations are stripped of their purpose and reduced to mere 'things,' then it becomes impossible to give glory to anything.  To be in awe of something, one has to understand (or at least intuit) that there is something else besides what we see that gives it that awesomeness.  Take, for example, a cathedral.  There are two ways of looking at it: the first is as a remarkable achievement, brought about by the cooperation of men and the will of God.  The second is as a set of stones, fitted together in an arbitrary arrangement that, given the right tools, anyone at any point in history could have put together. 
     Many modern philosophers treat religion in the same manner as the cathedral--as a human construct without meaning, and significant only in its effect on society.  In this view, all are equal; no one faith is better or worse than any other.  What a cowardly thought!  Instead of choosing to believe in something, the postmodernists simply claim that all are valid, getting them an easy out and making them look 'tolerant.'  Well, I've got news for them: 'tolerance' is the buzzword for people who don't want to take a stand about anything, who have no strong opinions and are happy to let other people do the hellraising as long as it doesn't interfere with them.  I heard a song about this once; the second chorus said "Close your mouth, stop your ears/close your mouth and take it slow/let others take the lead, and you bring up the rear/and later you can say you didn't know."  The song used the image of weeds growing in a garden to illustrate the way tolerance and moral equivalence--which, when you boil it down, is really a form of apathy--allow dangerous ideologies to take root and grow unchecked.  Yet even when some hate-filled rhetoric rears its head and begins spewing its bile, the oh-so-tolerant ones don't speak out--everyone has a right to their opinion, and it's not for me to judge, they say.  Hence the last chorus of the song: "Close your eyes, stop your ears/close your mouth; they're never there/and if they're ever here, they'll never come for you/because they know you really didn't care."  They find a sense of safety in their unwillingness to call a spade a spade.  After all, why should they make themselves a target?  It doesn't affect them, so why should they care? 

[Warning: rant ahead] 

     I am so sick and frapping tired of all these people who go around and say "Oh, it's just a cultural difference, we shouldn't judge them, they don't judge us, there's nothing wrong with what they do, it's just their thing, you know?"  No, I don't know.  I think there is something dreadfully wrong about a society that punishes a woman for being raped because they only allow the men to testify.  There is something horribly skewed about a religion that spreads itself by conquering other peoples, and either kills or subjugates anyone who doesn't convert.  And all you people who say that the Judeo-Christian god and the Muslim god are one and the same?  Hey.  Up yours.  Anyone who knows anything about the Koran knows that there is no way this can be true.  The God of the Bible is a just, loving, and jealous god who wants nothing more than for his people--indeed, all people--to be saved.  The god of the Koran is a bloodthirsty maniac who calls on his followers to slaughter the unbelievers.  I am sick and tired of all of this Tashlan* crap, and my blood pressure goes up every time I hear it.  There is nothing in heaven, earth or hell that could possibly convince me that the loving Father I know would condone the wholesale slaughter of his people via bus bombings.  ROPMA.**

     I feel better now. 
*The Chronicles of Narnia, book seven (The Last Battle).  If you've read it, you'll get the reference.  If you haven't read it, you should. 
**ROPMA: an acronym for "Religion of Peace, my *ahem*" 
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Wednesday, December 3rd, 2003
9:20 p.m.
And now, for the first time ever, I am proud to present the product of Livingstone's fertile (some would say futile) brain: Caps Lock Theater! 

    
SO THANKSGIVING HUH YEAH I'M GOING TO FLORIDA THIS YEAR WHERE ARE YOU GOING
OH YOUR GRANDMA'S OH THAT'S INTERESTING YEAH FLORIDA'S GOING TO BE AWESOME
IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE NINETY DEGREES THE WHOLE TIME I'M THERE AND YOU KNOW
WHAT THAT MEANS YEAH THAT'S RIGHT LOTS OF CHICKS AND BOOZE YEAH I'LL TELL YA
WHAT I'M THANKFUL FOR HA HA HA WHAT NO I DON'T SEE THAT WHAT ARE YOU
POINTING AT BEHIND ME I DON'T SEE ANYTHI--  (whack)  (thud)

     This has been a presentation of Caps Lock Theater, brought to you by your local PBS station and viewers like you.  Thank you. 
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Tuesday, December 2nd, 2003
10:38 p.m.
There's been a strain of mono making its way around campus this semester.  I doubt there's ever a time when someone one campus isn't sick with it, but this year it's running rampant.  I can tell because this strain has a distinctive barking cough that goes with it.  How do I know this?  Easy.  Listening to that cough kept me from sleeping last night. 
     That's right. 
     Much-Afraid has mono. 
     She's been coughing and losing her voice on-and-off for about two weeks now, but I always chalked it up to the common cold, and her former smoking habit.  However, this Sunday when she came back from break she was worse than she'd ever been and running a fever, and today she went to the condom store* health center and got the happy news.  I'm not too worried about catching it from her--Sausage Girl had the bad kind a couple years ago, and I came out fine from that, but she was also a lot more conscientious about sterilizing everything she touched than Much-Afraid.  I'm going to have to start eating vitamins like they're candy and chugging green tea and bundling up extra when I go out so my immune system doesn't weaken.  There's only two-point-five weeks left in the semester, so if I can hold out that long I'll be home free. 
     Of course, given that mono has something like a six-week incubation period, I could already be infected, but I'm trying really really really hard not to think along those lines.  An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, and chugging so much tea that I can barely make it through class without wetting my pants is a small price to pay if it means I don't have to deal with mono. 
*at the health center, girls can get up to seven free condoms in all sorts of different sizes and shapes and flavors.  gag. 
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Tuesday, December 2nd, 2003
12:07 a.m.
Oh, I am up far too late.  It's all Stalker Boy's fault, really--last week he saw my blog and decided to send me an email, and now we've become pen (keyboard?) pals.  I stayed up late just to see if he would reply to my last letter before I went to bed. 
     Well, okay, it's not really his fault.  I stayed up so I could make sure I got a space in the computer lab reserved to take my journalism final in two weeks.  The good spaces go like hotcakes, and I wanted to get mine as soon as it was available at midnight. 
     Stalker Boy and I have a surprising number of things in common--we're both rabid conservative Republicans, we're both growing Christians, and we both like to write long emails to each other.  We've compared it to a wartime correspondence, to C.S. Lewis and Joy Douglass, and to something else but I can't remember what and I'm too tired to go look it up.  My only problem with him is that he doesn't like cats, but I'm willing to overlook that.  Cats are really more suitable for women while men seem to do  better with dogs.  Dogs are companions; cats are co-conspirators.  If you injure yourself, a dog will run and get help, while a cat will wait for you to die and then eat you.  Of course, this leads to the question "why have cats in the first place?" 
     Well, they're warm on cold nights and they're cute when they play with string.  That's about all the justification I can give you, but it's good enough for me. 
     I'll blog more tomorrow when I'm not so sleepy. 
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