Interests:Riding horses, underground vacuum racing, tiedying, hunting with my bow and arrows, pruning hedges/bushes, making cute pine cone wreaths, drinking burbon, hiding in kangaroo pouches, playing tiddlywinks and Pooh-sticks, playing with little horse, having tripod contests, collecting fanny-packs, and digging for burried treasure while wearing my pirate costume. Expertise:I'm pretty good at painting my nails. Occupation:Legal Industry:Textiles
Right now I am sitting on my bed, Indian style. My toes are tucked under the warm, meaty parts of my legs where they remain nice and toasty. And while sitting here I became aware of my heart beating, and started wondering if it was a healthy heart or not. It probably could be healthier, but it is beating at least. A good sign. So I am thinking about my heart, and then I notice that I am slowly rocking back and forth. Back and forth, like the way the floor quivers at the mall. Back and forth like a mentally unstable child in a thunder storm. And so I got to thinking about mentally unsound people. About retarded people. About how they rock back and forth. And maybe the reason that they rock back and forth is because their heart is just too big. Because their heart is like a propeller and they can't help but move back and forth, back and forth. And maybe assholes who don’t seem to have hearts don’t move at all. Which would explain why cops are so good at shooting.
Currently Watching Harold and Maude By Harvey Brumfield, Eric Christmas, Bud Cort, Cyril Cusack, Gordon Devol, Henry Dieckoff, Judy Engles, Ellen Geer, Ray K. Goman, Ruth Gordon, Margot Jones, Susan Madigan, Vivian Pickles, Philip Schultz, Tom Skerritt, Sonia Sorrell, Shari Summers, Charles Tyner, G. Wood see related
I just saw this story on the Drudge Report and lost a little more faith in the human condition. Seriously people, clean up your trash.
Also, as my title says, I wish that Harold had not slept with Maude. Or rather, that Maude had not slept with Harold. It is because of relationships like the one, between Harold and Maude, that make people like Harry Burns believe that "men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way." But after what happened with Sally I guess that we all have to admit that he was right.
I watched the film Jesus Camp last night and was afraid for the entire Christian Church. Radicals are always frightening, and even more so when they are speaking in tongues. And seven. I would love to see a follow up documentary showing where those same kids are at in 5-10 years, because I cannot believe that fanatic Christianity is a sustainable lifestyle but rather a way of life that eventually causes you to fizzle out once you realize that there is nowhere to go but down. Also, fanatical Christians just set themselves up for disaster because the moment they do anything wrong they are made public fools, and debase everything that they stand for. It’s a perpetuating cycle.
Maybe I am wrong in thinking this, but I view faith as more of a philosophy than a lifestyle. I try to live my life in agreement with my philosophy, with my beliefs, with my faith, but I also recognize the importance of living in the world and interacting with people that do not share my religion, my philosophy. Maybe I am confusing the two: philosophy and religion. Maybe I should get more sleep and drink less coffee. But whether they are right or wrong (by what standards I am unsure), at least I can rest assured that my thoughts are my own and not the product of radical Christian indoctrination that happened at age six while away at Jesus Camp- which by the way looks like the most emotionally draining experience anyone could ever go through (besides obvious experiences like, uh, the Holocaust). Nine year old children talking about getting saved at age 5 because they wanted more out of life, have something wrong with them. They aren’t children, they aren’t individuals, they are religious byproducts of fundamental Christianity. They have the Christian vernacular down pat by at 10, throwing around phrases like “of the flesh” and “the Spirit led me to…” like they actually know but they are saying rather than just repeating everything they have been fed since conception. They are 10 years old and they don’t know anything other the confines of their mother’s kitchen (their classroom) and simultaneously think that they can save the world. They can’t. They are out of touch with the world.
I love Jesus, and I am completely content with letting Jesus be Jesus. I'll just be Kate.
The days are getting colder and the people of New England are bigger wimps than I ever imagined them to be. Everyone at home speaks about New Englanders like Vikings, living through wicked blizzards and trekking through Siberian artic temperatures just for a cup of coffee. Not true. Once it gets cold my lovely New England friends don’t stop their complaining for even a moment. Inside they turn the heat up to 75 and then ask “do you feel a draft? I mean, there is definitely a draft, right?” at least once every fifteen minutes. And they literally do run on Dunkin’ Donuts.
Now that the football season is over I am not quite sure as to what I am going to talk about with the men in the cafeteria while they prepare my food. Usually we bicker over how great Manning is and they tell me about how drunk they got while watching the game. I shrug and talk about how we can’t drink in the dorms and they give me pitying looks. Conversation is sure to pick up again once the baseball season starts, but maybe in the meantime I should start watching hockey?
My room is still a mess, in case you were wondering. I stepped on a piece of chewed gum oozing out the side of a trident wrapper while putting on my socks the other morning. Does this girl not own a garbage can? No, no she does not.
So Starbucks, my haven, has started serving breakfast sandwiches. These sandwiches are generally packed with meat and eggs, served on buttered English muffins that they heat in industrial ovens large enough to cremate household animals. And you know what, it smells like they are cremating household animals in those ovens. The aroma of Starbucks has changed and I’m not lying when I say that it really has cheapened the Starbucks experience that I used to love so much. But just for the record, the sandwiches are pretty good.
