Let me explain. No, heck, I won't explain. You guys probably get it by now. Hopeless romantic, can't stop crushing, I could say so much more, but it should be clear if you've read half this blog. Which would be a pretty big feat, I should remind you.
So I need to change. This constant obsession with a single girl (both single in the sense of being just one person, and in the sense of being unhitched) is really getting in the way of me doing useful things, loving people, loving God.
But how? I want her!
Like, really badly.
So? You've liked girls a lot before. You'll forget it, of course, but mere months ago, you were obsessed with this other girl. Let's call her Girl Q, just for the heck of it. She was similar in a lot of ways. She laughed! She smiled! She joked, she did interesting things, she had a few ridiculous quirks in common with you.
But what of it? My heart is elsewhere now!
So? It all changes. It all ends, even. The simple truth is that, while not taking the position of a miser of time, never waiting, never patient, always doing, always thinking, always dreaming, you similarly can't live your life with no time to do nothing, but neither can you live your life with only time to obsess, dream, hope, and be eventually crushed in dissatisfaction and folly.
But isn't this the way it's figured out? Isn't that how it's done? Trial and error?
Sure, but trial doesn't have to be blind, neither error meaningless. If you don't think about what you're trying beforehand, how can you change? Similarly, if you don't understand your error, how can you learn from it?
But when is that moment? When am I sure? How can I know? I wish I did! I've done nothing so long, for the simple reason that I knew I was ignorant!
I don't know, but since neither of us do, you might as well wait until you do. It'll be like a thousand mosquito bites all asking you to swat them, but you can do it, if you really try. Naturally, the God of the universe can help as well.
Sigh. It had to come to this at some point. Patience, like always, but also love, like never. This is going to be a rough ride.
(Garg contributed to this post.)
!Noah!
Apr 21, 2012
Absolutely Nothing
The translation being I need to do better.
(for those wondering, this is a response to Bush Maid's comment on my previous post.)
But I can't do better separate from God. Am I separate from God? No? Well, then why can't I be better? Because I don't believe? My faith is from God alone. But something must be mine! But no, nothing is mine. No action, no thought, no intention, no well-placed advice, no pride, no goodness, no honesty, no meekness, no money, no family, no badly-chosen shades, no silvery silence, no joyful noise, no happiness, no wonder, no glory, no love.
Nothing.
But Jesus' love! That must be mine. His actions, his thoughts, his intentions, his fabulous parables, his pride, his goodness, his honesty, his meekness, his riches, his family the church, his well-seeing eyesight, his unwavering silence, his good words, his happiness, his wonder, his glory, his love.
But is it? How can it be? In order for it to be mine, I must have something. Right? No? Then how am I different from the heathens? How have I become his, if not solely, absolutely only because of his love and choice? Am I merely blinded by the human idea of exchange? Is giving simply not human? Is it merely not something we understand, in our heart of hearts, in the deepest chasm of our being? But are we not in his image? Have we not some essence of the God we are called to love? Is that it? Do we give him what he first gave us, and in return he gives us more?
“For who has known the mind of the Lord,
!Noah!
Apr 20, 2012
Do Better
So a couple nights ago, I was laying in bed, thinking about my day, what had happened over the last few weeks (rather a lot, actually), and thinking about what God's given me. I recently got a job pretty much dumpster diving and ripping apart consumer electronics in a mad search for modern-day gold...which turns out rather to be steel, brass, bronze, and copper. At the very best, there's the gold in all the circuit boards, but you can only imagine how little there actually is in them.
Still, I'm grateful.
Or am I?
For some stupid reason, I found myself thinking, "God, you could do better."
Multiple times, actually. I spent a bit of time regretting it, and then thought it again.
Eventually my heart got involved and explained to me that God couldn't do better with me.
And that naturally opened up a furious firestorm of misunderstanding in my mind.
Of course, God COULD do better, in my specific instance.
But God WOULDN'T do better for me, specifically. It's weird, trying to say God's doing something perfect in the world and still trying to say his ability isn't limited. If an artist creates a masterpiece, it can later be eclipsed by an even better work.
I guess at this point I don't really know what I'm saying. But the point is, God is good.
Also, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. It's not a sure thing yet, but I might be losing my job.
Dirtbag McSpleen. That's me.
!Noah!
Still, I'm grateful.
Or am I?
For some stupid reason, I found myself thinking, "God, you could do better."
Multiple times, actually. I spent a bit of time regretting it, and then thought it again.
Eventually my heart got involved and explained to me that God couldn't do better with me.
And that naturally opened up a furious firestorm of misunderstanding in my mind.
Of course, God COULD do better, in my specific instance.
But God WOULDN'T do better for me, specifically. It's weird, trying to say God's doing something perfect in the world and still trying to say his ability isn't limited. If an artist creates a masterpiece, it can later be eclipsed by an even better work.
I guess at this point I don't really know what I'm saying. But the point is, God is good.
Also, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. It's not a sure thing yet, but I might be losing my job.
Dirtbag McSpleen. That's me.
!Noah!
Apr 2, 2012
Trip to See the Birds Day One
Brighter than the Sun just came on the radio. God is pretty crazy awesome. Breakfast is reasonably priced and should be amazingly good.
We stopped at Perkins at about 10 today for coffee and cinnamon rolls, although I'm getting a hot chocolate instead.
We just left Marshall and should be on I90 as soon as noon. From there we'll go on into South Dakota. I'm not sure yet if we'll be stopping there on the way over or on the way back, but I might get to see the Badlands and the black hills again, which would be great.
It struck me today that Grandpa might be where I get my quiet tendencies from. While he talks a lot more than I do at this point, I'm inclined to believe it's because he's got more to talk about than me, being more than four times my age.
He was a large-animal veterinarian and has many stories of giving birth to calves and of building roads in Alaska.
On the other side of things is Grandma. She's not along on this trip, but I've always felt, since going camping with Grandpa and her earlier on in my life, that I probably got my make-do attitude from her. Now that I think about it, it doesn't really seem that apparent in her as I thought, but I guess it doesn't always show on top.
I should have mentioned acouple things earlier. First, it's ridiculously cloudy and even foggy today. Second, I brought along Eat Pray Love, and it's an interesting book to read at a time like this.
As for the fog, it was so foggy earlier that we could see for perhaps a thousand yards ahead and then it was just gray. We passed a number of large grain elevators barely a stone's throw from the road without seeing them until the last second.
Just south of Jasper, near the SD/MN border, a couple of female deer waltzed across the road in front of us and Grandpa had to slow down in order not to hit them.
We're coming into one of my favorite parts of America, where you can see half a mile while sitting in a low-riding station wagon. Not sure what I like about it, but it seems like i just like to observe, and wide open spaces without visual obstructions of any kind really help that.
I just realized that my last crush didn't culminate in some sort of truth-telling or confrontation. At some point in me liking some girl I decide either to give up and move on or to tell all. Usually the case is the latter, and while I sort of took the easy way out (acquiring for myself a new direction for my affection), it somehow surprises me that I didn't ever actually tell said crush how things were.
Inexplicable joy is the best kind.
Grandpa decided to sleep a bit as he fears he'll fall asleep while driving. Mere yards away is a 55 MPH speed limit sign. This worries me a bit, but I reminded him to turn on the hazard lights.
Well, it seems grandpa wasn't having so much trouble staying awake as he was merely driving. I drove for probably an hour at about 55 MPH on a two-lane highway. Hands are still shaking a bit, but I think it helped.
!Noah!
Mar 31, 2012
I Want to be Proud of my Heart
Ok, so, most of you probably know I'm a hopeless romantic. Or something like that. The deal is basically that I spend very few days of my life not pining after one girl or another, usually sequentially, occasionally simultaneously. Yeah, weird, I know, but that's sort of me in one word, once you really get to know me. Or it could be that other one, but that's not for me to say.
Anyway. That's kinda how I've lived all my life. I may not have been obsessing over girls at age five or eight or twelve or anything, but since probably fourteen, that's been the story.
And, honestly, it hasn't changed since then. Which I guess I sort of implied in my previous statement, but I digress.
As long as I can really remember, that's been my big deal. My greatest want, desire, hope, dream. And I think I may have found another piece of the puzzle.
To explain the vague picture I've got so far, I'll start with what I've already figured out, within a reasonable margin of certainty. Or something.
First, I really want companionship. I always have. My siblings have interchangeably been fabulous and awful, but it's not about them, it's about me. Which sounds selfish, but that's the way it is. It's not that I'm the only thing that matters, or that I don't see their problems and want them to improve, it's that I see mine a thousand times clearer.
Or so I hope.
Second, I want said companionship to be lasting. I'd like to say I want it to be infinite or eternal, but that's not possible in the way that I want. Grrr. I hate saying I want things, but I think this self-exploration is helpful. Thus, I want it to last. I want someone who'll be willing to listen to extremely long-winded moments, wherein I babble mindlessly for hours, and times when I don't feel like talking at all. And that turns out to be a lot of the time, actually. It's not that I'm regularly unhappy or reclusive, but I really like to observe and to think. Occasionally this thought is accompanied by pacing, sometimes by sitting, sometimes by stationary standing. Not always do I want to be alone, but there are times like that as well.
Third, and perhaps most potent, has been my desire for the intimacy that comes with a best friend/lover/spouse relationship. And, yeah, I don't really know what I'm talking about. I'm not married, and, besides my parents, I don't know people very well who are married. And, if you've ever had parents (perhaps not, for some), you'll understand that I could be one of the worst people to judge my parents, while simultaneously being one of the best to judge them.
So I want to get hitched, basically. I can't really remember a day when I didn't, which is sort of weird. I don't know if I've ever had the sort of young boy grossed out at married couples kissing or being together or loving each other or anything like that. But my memory is rather horrible for the far past.
I realize that not only isn't marriage the one-step fix for every problem I've got in my life, but also that it'll more likely solve few of my current problems and create for me a dozen or so more. I've found that, in life, the quick, easy fixes are the ones that aren't good in the long run.
Which, somehow or other, is no comment against marriage in general. Marriage as God intended is a fabulous, wonderful expression of God's love, both as metaphor and literally.
Now, let's get current. I was thinking about this and completely forgot what I was talking about, 'cause I wrote a dozen paragraphs nearly unrelated...gimme a second.
Oh, snort. Another point. I've always wanted a constant companion, someone who'll listen all the time, any time, who's kind, gentle, honest, patient. All the good stuff. And naturally there's Jesus. God. And I keep thinking to myself...how exactly is God supposed to be far, far, far more than enough for me, and I simultaneously desire, from the bottom of my heart (heck, from the top and sides as well) that I have a spouse, someone on this earth who's got similar qualities while still human and flawed.
I think this is the crux of my problem. I don't know how to put this deepest desire of my heart in its right place. And I've prayed, believe me. I realize that, somehow, I'm supposed to put God first in everything, especially in those things I feel most strongly about.
And, God, I feel strongly about Girl X.
(I've never been completely clear on when using God's name is in vain, and not in vain. Flaw 2.)
So what can I do? I feel like there are many easy ways out of this, and I've taken a number of them before. I've always been partial to the Tell All and Hope For the Best approach, but, honestly, it's failed me twice in the past.
And I guess there's always the problem that I feel deeply insufficient. I always compare my talents, skills, interests, and intellect to those of Girl X, but there's more to it than that, I think. That's just me feeling insecure and losing perspective like an overfilled tortilla drools salsa. That doesn't help.
But there's also the fact that I don't have more than Benjamin's two cheeks to rub together.
So. I'm insufficient, insecure, have my heart set on the wrong things, don't put God first in everything, and on top of it all, I'm still getting over that sort of shy phase. Or maybe I'm just quiet like that. I always feel like I don't speak enough, laugh enough, or answer loud enough. But that's another topic.
Ah, yes. I want to be proud of my heart.
You see, were I to alphabetize the Girls that have, whether sequentially or simultaneously, occupied my heart, I would be probably half through the alphabet by now. Which bodes horribly if I actually get to Girl X before I find the one.
You see, it's shameful to me that I'm so fickle in my desire. I want to love constantly and really and actually and truly and fully. And being an all-or-nothing kind of guy, either I didn't actually love Girls A through H (or whichever I'm currently on...you can only imagine how I'd hate to keep track), or I don't love Girl X (X being current), because I've really felt this strongly about girls before today. I have. I've known girls better than Girl X (wayyyy better), I've been closer to girls before today. (somehow, though, I've managed to completely avoid ever actually having a girlfriend)
So I love and hope and dream and then pow, it's gone with one more beautiful face, wonderful person. Was that real? If it was, how can this be? If it wasn't, how can't this be?
And I haven't said this much. It takes a lot of time for me to figure me out, and I sorta just realize that the reason I'm ashamed about this sequence of potential partners is because I want to be proud of my heart.
I want to be proud of my heart.
And that makes sense. God made my heart, and my heart was made to constantly, absolutely, unreservedly love him. And I'm extremely bad at that.
But that brings me back to my biggest problem. Idolizing an idealized relationship rather than worshiping and serving God through everything I do.
My heart is hard.
This is going to be harder.
(I'd really appreciate prayer at this point. Thanks.)
!Noah!
Anyway. That's kinda how I've lived all my life. I may not have been obsessing over girls at age five or eight or twelve or anything, but since probably fourteen, that's been the story.
And, honestly, it hasn't changed since then. Which I guess I sort of implied in my previous statement, but I digress.
As long as I can really remember, that's been my big deal. My greatest want, desire, hope, dream. And I think I may have found another piece of the puzzle.
To explain the vague picture I've got so far, I'll start with what I've already figured out, within a reasonable margin of certainty. Or something.
First, I really want companionship. I always have. My siblings have interchangeably been fabulous and awful, but it's not about them, it's about me. Which sounds selfish, but that's the way it is. It's not that I'm the only thing that matters, or that I don't see their problems and want them to improve, it's that I see mine a thousand times clearer.
Or so I hope.
Second, I want said companionship to be lasting. I'd like to say I want it to be infinite or eternal, but that's not possible in the way that I want. Grrr. I hate saying I want things, but I think this self-exploration is helpful. Thus, I want it to last. I want someone who'll be willing to listen to extremely long-winded moments, wherein I babble mindlessly for hours, and times when I don't feel like talking at all. And that turns out to be a lot of the time, actually. It's not that I'm regularly unhappy or reclusive, but I really like to observe and to think. Occasionally this thought is accompanied by pacing, sometimes by sitting, sometimes by stationary standing. Not always do I want to be alone, but there are times like that as well.
Third, and perhaps most potent, has been my desire for the intimacy that comes with a best friend/lover/spouse relationship. And, yeah, I don't really know what I'm talking about. I'm not married, and, besides my parents, I don't know people very well who are married. And, if you've ever had parents (perhaps not, for some), you'll understand that I could be one of the worst people to judge my parents, while simultaneously being one of the best to judge them.
So I want to get hitched, basically. I can't really remember a day when I didn't, which is sort of weird. I don't know if I've ever had the sort of young boy grossed out at married couples kissing or being together or loving each other or anything like that. But my memory is rather horrible for the far past.
I realize that not only isn't marriage the one-step fix for every problem I've got in my life, but also that it'll more likely solve few of my current problems and create for me a dozen or so more. I've found that, in life, the quick, easy fixes are the ones that aren't good in the long run.
Which, somehow or other, is no comment against marriage in general. Marriage as God intended is a fabulous, wonderful expression of God's love, both as metaphor and literally.
Now, let's get current. I was thinking about this and completely forgot what I was talking about, 'cause I wrote a dozen paragraphs nearly unrelated...gimme a second.
Oh, snort. Another point. I've always wanted a constant companion, someone who'll listen all the time, any time, who's kind, gentle, honest, patient. All the good stuff. And naturally there's Jesus. God. And I keep thinking to myself...how exactly is God supposed to be far, far, far more than enough for me, and I simultaneously desire, from the bottom of my heart (heck, from the top and sides as well) that I have a spouse, someone on this earth who's got similar qualities while still human and flawed.
I think this is the crux of my problem. I don't know how to put this deepest desire of my heart in its right place. And I've prayed, believe me. I realize that, somehow, I'm supposed to put God first in everything, especially in those things I feel most strongly about.
And, God, I feel strongly about Girl X.
(I've never been completely clear on when using God's name is in vain, and not in vain. Flaw 2.)
So what can I do? I feel like there are many easy ways out of this, and I've taken a number of them before. I've always been partial to the Tell All and Hope For the Best approach, but, honestly, it's failed me twice in the past.
And I guess there's always the problem that I feel deeply insufficient. I always compare my talents, skills, interests, and intellect to those of Girl X, but there's more to it than that, I think. That's just me feeling insecure and losing perspective like an overfilled tortilla drools salsa. That doesn't help.
But there's also the fact that I don't have more than Benjamin's two cheeks to rub together.
So. I'm insufficient, insecure, have my heart set on the wrong things, don't put God first in everything, and on top of it all, I'm still getting over that sort of shy phase. Or maybe I'm just quiet like that. I always feel like I don't speak enough, laugh enough, or answer loud enough. But that's another topic.
Ah, yes. I want to be proud of my heart.
You see, were I to alphabetize the Girls that have, whether sequentially or simultaneously, occupied my heart, I would be probably half through the alphabet by now. Which bodes horribly if I actually get to Girl X before I find the one.
You see, it's shameful to me that I'm so fickle in my desire. I want to love constantly and really and actually and truly and fully. And being an all-or-nothing kind of guy, either I didn't actually love Girls A through H (or whichever I'm currently on...you can only imagine how I'd hate to keep track), or I don't love Girl X (X being current), because I've really felt this strongly about girls before today. I have. I've known girls better than Girl X (wayyyy better), I've been closer to girls before today. (somehow, though, I've managed to completely avoid ever actually having a girlfriend)
So I love and hope and dream and then pow, it's gone with one more beautiful face, wonderful person. Was that real? If it was, how can this be? If it wasn't, how can't this be?
And I haven't said this much. It takes a lot of time for me to figure me out, and I sorta just realize that the reason I'm ashamed about this sequence of potential partners is because I want to be proud of my heart.
I want to be proud of my heart.
And that makes sense. God made my heart, and my heart was made to constantly, absolutely, unreservedly love him. And I'm extremely bad at that.
But that brings me back to my biggest problem. Idolizing an idealized relationship rather than worshiping and serving God through everything I do.
My heart is hard.
This is going to be harder.
(I'd really appreciate prayer at this point. Thanks.)
!Noah!
Mar 13, 2012
Aye
So I be in Missouri. With a ton of awesomesauce peoples. They're currently playing a video game. Er, no, I mean card game. Heheheheh. But anyway.
I arrived a couple days ago and things have been pretty much uphill from there. I'm no recovered sinner or fixed fool or whatever, but I'm learning and changing a bit here and a bit there.
Hmmm. I felt like talking a lot more, somehow, before I went and read a few dozen pages of Dear Blank Please Blank, Taste of Awesome, and I Waste So Much Time.
Buuut, I think I can still do it. Here's the deal. Not a big deal, but a change in my understanding of the world, I guess. On the topic of hate.
Yeah. Nice way to introduce something, eh. I'm a genius that way. Regardless, it happens that I chatted rather lengthily with Chad (campus minister at the University of Minnesota). Things happened in that time that might not have happened otherwise. I postulated and spoke and conjectured and guessed, and we got somewhere.
Here are a few of the things we came up with:
First, hate isn't really absolute. That is, hate isn't a yes or no. It's not on or off, it's not yes for one thing and no for another. The current culture's view of hate can be described that way, though. Hate as Jesus uses the word isn't exactly the same. It's comparative, but so much more meaningful. When Jesus says hate (I'm specifically thinking of the instance with his mother/sister/brothers thing. You know the one. Or don't.), he means that by comparison to those he'd come to give his life for, his family could only be considered an afterthought.
It's hard to really get, I think, but it's a way of understanding it, I guess, given our rather limited knowledge and understanding of everything. Jesus helps us understand things through parables, for instance, and when he uses the word hate, I guess it could be called hyperbole. He's saying it larger than life, bigger than it really is, but, at the same time, and very importantly, absolutely truly. God never lies and if we listen to his word and separate it from our selfish, sinful understanding of the world, we will truly understand the things God wants us to, if not now, then soon, if not soon, then later.
The same really applies to love, except the opposite way. True love is absolutely unselfish. No part of true love can benefit the lover because that's what love is - self-sacrificial. Moreover, love isn't true unless it is, indeed, sacrificial. If a billionaire gives away a million dollars, it's no big deal. He/she's got tons of dough left. If, however, the same billionaire were to give away everything they owned, reducing their net worth to zero, they would be loveing (this, of course, assuming they directed the said funds in a manner that both didn't benefit them, but did benefit others.
Also, it's important to note that, in some degree, every human being on the planet does hate everything and everybody else in the world. This is a very wide-reaching and absolutist statement, but, again, hate by definition doesn't have to be absolute in degree, but merely in...er...what do you call it. Preference? The direction in which the hate is directed. It's universal.
In an opposing manner, love is UN-universal, except for Jesus'. When we love someone, even when we give our lives for them, there is something in it for us, and that's what makes our love...insufficient, I guess you could say. Regardless of how hard we try (and perhaps because of how hard we try, actually), we can never love selflessly and utterly self-sacrificially. Only Jesus can do that.
So I guess when Jesus says we must hate our family (mother, brothers, etc), we're called instead to love others without prejudice or restraint, specifically in the instances when we can't get anything at all in return.
Which never really happens. At the very least, we feel good about ourselves and what we've done when we've loved someone.
Wow, that makes me feel sorry for Jesus.
I guess I'll sleepinate this computer before it dies and Gabriel consequently kills me.
G'night, weirdos.
!Noah!
I arrived a couple days ago and things have been pretty much uphill from there. I'm no recovered sinner or fixed fool or whatever, but I'm learning and changing a bit here and a bit there.
Hmmm. I felt like talking a lot more, somehow, before I went and read a few dozen pages of Dear Blank Please Blank, Taste of Awesome, and I Waste So Much Time.
Buuut, I think I can still do it. Here's the deal. Not a big deal, but a change in my understanding of the world, I guess. On the topic of hate.
Yeah. Nice way to introduce something, eh. I'm a genius that way. Regardless, it happens that I chatted rather lengthily with Chad (campus minister at the University of Minnesota). Things happened in that time that might not have happened otherwise. I postulated and spoke and conjectured and guessed, and we got somewhere.
Here are a few of the things we came up with:
First, hate isn't really absolute. That is, hate isn't a yes or no. It's not on or off, it's not yes for one thing and no for another. The current culture's view of hate can be described that way, though. Hate as Jesus uses the word isn't exactly the same. It's comparative, but so much more meaningful. When Jesus says hate (I'm specifically thinking of the instance with his mother/sister/brothers thing. You know the one. Or don't.), he means that by comparison to those he'd come to give his life for, his family could only be considered an afterthought.
It's hard to really get, I think, but it's a way of understanding it, I guess, given our rather limited knowledge and understanding of everything. Jesus helps us understand things through parables, for instance, and when he uses the word hate, I guess it could be called hyperbole. He's saying it larger than life, bigger than it really is, but, at the same time, and very importantly, absolutely truly. God never lies and if we listen to his word and separate it from our selfish, sinful understanding of the world, we will truly understand the things God wants us to, if not now, then soon, if not soon, then later.
The same really applies to love, except the opposite way. True love is absolutely unselfish. No part of true love can benefit the lover because that's what love is - self-sacrificial. Moreover, love isn't true unless it is, indeed, sacrificial. If a billionaire gives away a million dollars, it's no big deal. He/she's got tons of dough left. If, however, the same billionaire were to give away everything they owned, reducing their net worth to zero, they would be loveing (this, of course, assuming they directed the said funds in a manner that both didn't benefit them, but did benefit others.
Also, it's important to note that, in some degree, every human being on the planet does hate everything and everybody else in the world. This is a very wide-reaching and absolutist statement, but, again, hate by definition doesn't have to be absolute in degree, but merely in...er...what do you call it. Preference? The direction in which the hate is directed. It's universal.
In an opposing manner, love is UN-universal, except for Jesus'. When we love someone, even when we give our lives for them, there is something in it for us, and that's what makes our love...insufficient, I guess you could say. Regardless of how hard we try (and perhaps because of how hard we try, actually), we can never love selflessly and utterly self-sacrificially. Only Jesus can do that.
So I guess when Jesus says we must hate our family (mother, brothers, etc), we're called instead to love others without prejudice or restraint, specifically in the instances when we can't get anything at all in return.
Which never really happens. At the very least, we feel good about ourselves and what we've done when we've loved someone.
Wow, that makes me feel sorry for Jesus.
I guess I'll sleepinate this computer before it dies and Gabriel consequently kills me.
G'night, weirdos.
!Noah!
Feb 18, 2012
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LILLIAN NICOLE TAYLOR
(Or Lilly, depending if you were awesome or not.)
BY NOAH BERTILSON
LILLY
To many, the name would probably be spelt with one L. Or two, depending if you only count adjacents or not. For these select few, Lilly would most likely perceive your faulty use of Ls and chuck a toad at you. Regardless, this is her story.
ALIVE
Lilly was born somewhere or other in the world, and probably had sushi by her third minute of life. Her parents were not convicted of negligent babyslaughter because she failed to die for nearly seventeen years. (also, being completely awesome helped them a lot)
LIFE
Lilly grew up with her parents and at least two sisters. Could be three. Maybe more, if dudes were to be included. But I don't think they were. Or existed ever. I shall return to the point, though.
Lilly grew up on a farm in the middle of the Sahara with her sisters and parents, but things weren't cool enough there.
...
*blinks at previous sentence repeatedly*
Therefore, by the age of four, Lilly moved to one of the polar ice caps. It's always been unclear because, at the age of three, Lilly turned invisible. If anyone's seen a grave around, therefore, labelled Lillian ██████, it's because at the age of three, she was pronounced missing in action, having promised to demonstrate her world-renowned acrobatic abilities to the local toddler population. (the toddler population of the Sahara was sorely lacking)
She remained at whichever ice cap it happened to be until she turned fifteen. Or whenever it was that she finally appeared in the Land of the Living, California. She then attended a conference of peculiar people with her constant companion, Precious Technology. Things were pretty harsh around there, so her protective nature came in handy. You know. With all those wild humans and all.
Regardless, in those days of madness and folly, she met a ton of people, who instantly saw the resemblance and named her Granite. Some were more reluctant and attempted to achieve a good photograph of her. But this story is about a girl, not a weirdo with a camera and no sense of personal space.
Lilly went home to her parents, who'd oddly enough moved to this strange place in Asgard called Lodi, which Loki had somehow misspelt in the euphoria after having seizing the town. Here she did awesome things with her friends and siblings for a while. (this part of her history is shrouded in mist and fog and even smog, on Wed...er, Thursdays, so I'll move on) Lilly frequently went on rather fantabulous motorcycle rides with her father, Archibald.
Lilly's later life is plagued with paper clips and actually a lot of pop-tarts, if you look closely enough, but, without a doubt, she made a dent in the proverbial gong of life.
DEATH
It was a sunny day at her home in the Mojave Desert, sitting silently on her rickety rocking chair on her also rickety porch. The sun beat down and Lilly's pet tortellini dangled happily in the wind. The scene was peaceful. But it was all a lie! The sushi she'd eaten many decades before was waging its final, great war against Lilly, and, after defeating her asophegus, mauling her appendix and applying the theory of relativity to her tonsils, it made its way to her heart!
Things were looking grim for Lilly, but, being elderly and toothless and all, she offered her faithful tortellini the chance to defeat the foul sushi. She swallowed her tortellini after a heartfelt goodbye, and it went to work.
The tortellini went after the sushi, zooming, running, bopping! It followed the sushi, 'til at last they met at the great gates of Lilly's heart. The tortellini was a worthy foe, and fought well and hard, but in the end, the sushi's pure young rawness defeated the pasta's rather elderly cooked nature, and it forced its way into her heart, and caused great mayhem therein.
Lilly burped, and moments later greeted Peter.
DEAD
Lilly was one hundred and four, and was missed by the whole human race, except for Joe Shmoe.
He didn't care.
!Noah!
Feb 17, 2012
the City on a Forest
Being that I've had a T2i for a while now (on loan from NatCam), it seemed about time I made myself some sort of video. This is a timelapse I created while building a city/towers on top of a "forest".
This is far more exceptional because of how much effort I put into it post-production than how much trouble it took to set up the building and record the pictures and video. I accomplished a lot in Blender tonight, figuring things out that I didn't know before, and using them as they should be. Thus, we have this.
Enjoy!
!Noah!
This is far more exceptional because of how much effort I put into it post-production than how much trouble it took to set up the building and record the pictures and video. I accomplished a lot in Blender tonight, figuring things out that I didn't know before, and using them as they should be. Thus, we have this.
Enjoy!
!Noah!
Feb 4, 2012
Heroes
"If today we lay the fault for lives lost on heroes, perhaps tomorrow heroes will no longer take up the mantle and the burden of saving lives, and will no longer hold back the lifelong tide of the dead."
~ Swishkin
Jan 16, 2012
Peponi
(For those of you wondering what the heck this is, this is the second part. The first part is available as requested, but, be warned, it's the longest, most rambly, inconsistent, terrific, incredible, horrendous mess of words I've ever read. And I didn't write it. If you still want to read the first part of this story, just ask and I'll find some way to get the monstrosity to you.)
Peponi
one
After the Storm
A long time ago, when huge gigantic wars were going on, and great evils were being scrunched to death, and when tortillas were still inclined to go skydiving, there were companions. Primarily, though, this story and the ones before it pertain to a girl by the name of Susie. Occasionally people were unsure of the spelling of her name, occasionally she was shot with darts, and occasionally she shot darts herself. Most of the time, though, she was confused.
No more. Susie had friends. There was Walter, who she had this thing for, and who, no less, had this thing for her. Yes. Things were had, back then.
There were Ashley, and Clefspeare, Tux and William and Bonnie. But they were all gone.
In the literal sense, Susie was sitting in a pile of dust. Well, no, it was actually sand. And it wasn’t so much a pile as, well, a desert. She was feeling pretty bad. Her lips had gone dry about six hours ago, and time progressing thusfar in such a was as not to end her life was nothing but a miracle. Anyway, she was really thirsty.
Queue beginning of absurdly long description of the local landscape.
Susie sat in a dune several feet taller than almost every other one for miles around. For miles and miles around, there was nothing but sand. There was yellow sand, orange sand, red sand, and there was white sand. In the distance, if one were dehydrated and malnourished, one might even make out blue sand, but that obviously couldn’t be anything but a mirage.
There were several boulders smattered in Susie’s broader vicinity. One of them happened to be shadowing her, oddly enough.
…
I say oddly enough simply because it was high noon. The sun was directly above her. Nevertheless, she was comparatively cool.
Which honestly goes without saying. If you weren’t aware, she’s got the nerve of twelve lions, and the backbone of an overdried tortilla.
Queue end of absurdly long description of the situation in general.
A spider walked up to her and insisted on occupying her knee.
She raised an eyebrow at it and shrugged. It’d been a while since she’d cared if she lived or died. She remembered the good times. Fighting monsters and conquering evils and whatnot. It had been fun. Moreover, there had been Walter. She loved the way he’d been surprised when she nearly crushed the life out of him after all that craziness. She loved the way his hair rarely smelled of dead fish, and she really didn’t mind it when he kissed her.
She started crying.
They were all gone. It seemed impossible that they could be alive. How could they have survived?
two
Windy
Moments after the companions had received their gifts from the White One, they had all sat around for a half minute staring blankly into the surrounding horizon and every one of them failing in every way to think of something to say.
Eventually, though, Walter wacked himself on the head and stood up. It took him some time to figure out what to do after that, but he guided his belt through the loops in his jeans. He sheathed Excalibur and proceeded to look like he had some idea what should be done.
Consequently, the fellowship turned their eyes to him, attentive and willing.
“Um,” he said, looking rather nervous all of a sudden. Suddenly, though, it was clear to him. The path ahead was laid out before him like a very-advanced holographic heads-up-display, but with less expanded abbreviations and less tech involved. Pretty much a gut feeling. It was like his heart could see the yellow brick road even though his eyes couldn’t.
“Come one, people, we haven’t got all day!” he said jovially.
And with that, he led them all into a sandstorm. He wasn’t exactly sure at what point it went from a greened rocky crag to a maelstrom of a desert, but at some point, it did. The company was divided thus: Bonnie found herself with Walter, William with Tux, Clefspeare with Ashley.
Susie, though, found herself alone. And, being the main character of an absurdly long story, she was spending some time feeling sorry for herself. Naturally, crying and not doing anything useful in the desert, she...
“Wanna play darts?” said a tall man with far too much facial hair and a wicked grin on his face.
one
After the Storm
A long time ago, when huge gigantic wars were going on, and great evils were being scrunched to death, and when tortillas were still inclined to go skydiving, there were companions. Primarily, though, this story and the ones before it pertain to a girl by the name of Susie. Occasionally people were unsure of the spelling of her name, occasionally she was shot with darts, and occasionally she shot darts herself. Most of the time, though, she was confused.
No more. Susie had friends. There was Walter, who she had this thing for, and who, no less, had this thing for her. Yes. Things were had, back then.
There were Ashley, and Clefspeare, Tux and William and Bonnie. But they were all gone.
In the literal sense, Susie was sitting in a pile of dust. Well, no, it was actually sand. And it wasn’t so much a pile as, well, a desert. She was feeling pretty bad. Her lips had gone dry about six hours ago, and time progressing thusfar in such a was as not to end her life was nothing but a miracle. Anyway, she was really thirsty.
Queue beginning of absurdly long description of the local landscape.
Susie sat in a dune several feet taller than almost every other one for miles around. For miles and miles around, there was nothing but sand. There was yellow sand, orange sand, red sand, and there was white sand. In the distance, if one were dehydrated and malnourished, one might even make out blue sand, but that obviously couldn’t be anything but a mirage.
There were several boulders smattered in Susie’s broader vicinity. One of them happened to be shadowing her, oddly enough.
…
I say oddly enough simply because it was high noon. The sun was directly above her. Nevertheless, she was comparatively cool.
Which honestly goes without saying. If you weren’t aware, she’s got the nerve of twelve lions, and the backbone of an overdried tortilla.
Queue end of absurdly long description of the situation in general.
A spider walked up to her and insisted on occupying her knee.
She raised an eyebrow at it and shrugged. It’d been a while since she’d cared if she lived or died. She remembered the good times. Fighting monsters and conquering evils and whatnot. It had been fun. Moreover, there had been Walter. She loved the way he’d been surprised when she nearly crushed the life out of him after all that craziness. She loved the way his hair rarely smelled of dead fish, and she really didn’t mind it when he kissed her.
She started crying.
They were all gone. It seemed impossible that they could be alive. How could they have survived?
two
Windy
Moments after the companions had received their gifts from the White One, they had all sat around for a half minute staring blankly into the surrounding horizon and every one of them failing in every way to think of something to say.
Eventually, though, Walter wacked himself on the head and stood up. It took him some time to figure out what to do after that, but he guided his belt through the loops in his jeans. He sheathed Excalibur and proceeded to look like he had some idea what should be done.
Consequently, the fellowship turned their eyes to him, attentive and willing.
“Um,” he said, looking rather nervous all of a sudden. Suddenly, though, it was clear to him. The path ahead was laid out before him like a very-advanced holographic heads-up-display, but with less expanded abbreviations and less tech involved. Pretty much a gut feeling. It was like his heart could see the yellow brick road even though his eyes couldn’t.
“Come one, people, we haven’t got all day!” he said jovially.
And with that, he led them all into a sandstorm. He wasn’t exactly sure at what point it went from a greened rocky crag to a maelstrom of a desert, but at some point, it did. The company was divided thus: Bonnie found herself with Walter, William with Tux, Clefspeare with Ashley.
Susie, though, found herself alone. And, being the main character of an absurdly long story, she was spending some time feeling sorry for herself. Naturally, crying and not doing anything useful in the desert, she...
“Wanna play darts?” said a tall man with far too much facial hair and a wicked grin on his face.
!Noah!
Jan 9, 2012
New Year, stuff and things
Well, it's a new year. I guess that's alright. I haven't written any resolutions. I can't say my life's better yet for having an extra couple years on this decade. Anyway.
Hmmm. What to say. I might be getting a new camera and/or taking some photography classes soon. This primarily depends on my parents, which I'll be grateful for when I see it. Not that I don't appreciate their apparent willingness now, but it's a pretty big thing. I can't wait to go to NatCam to test out all the options.
Still cleaning the house. Unfortunately, I'm not taking much part in it anymore. I probably should. But on the other hand, I want to continue Taekwondo. Preferably more than before. Especially since spring might potentially be around the corner, but actually regardless.
The madhouse that is my mind? For the moment, things are moderately calm. I haven't really talked to a friend in a while, and I feel like I'm getting used to it. That's a bad thing? I'm pretty sure it is in the long run, but for now, I can imagine it being a good thing. Then again, my imagination...
Trying to find a film developer for the cartridge that came with the Olympus film camera. I took a dozen or so pictures...it's odd, though. It says it's a 24-shot one. I guess my confusion is a given, given the fact I've never really used a film camera before. (actually, I have, but it was in Colorado. Like twelve years ago. Disposable. Yes.)
Girl X is still on the lam. Question is, do I forget her as I've always thought of her (potentially meaning the abrupt and unstoppable return of affection just as she returns), or should I let absence do what it does?
...
Even more important, even if I could make my bloody mind up, would I be able to act accordingly?
!Noah!
Hmmm. What to say. I might be getting a new camera and/or taking some photography classes soon. This primarily depends on my parents, which I'll be grateful for when I see it. Not that I don't appreciate their apparent willingness now, but it's a pretty big thing. I can't wait to go to NatCam to test out all the options.
Still cleaning the house. Unfortunately, I'm not taking much part in it anymore. I probably should. But on the other hand, I want to continue Taekwondo. Preferably more than before. Especially since spring might potentially be around the corner, but actually regardless.
The madhouse that is my mind? For the moment, things are moderately calm. I haven't really talked to a friend in a while, and I feel like I'm getting used to it. That's a bad thing? I'm pretty sure it is in the long run, but for now, I can imagine it being a good thing. Then again, my imagination...
Trying to find a film developer for the cartridge that came with the Olympus film camera. I took a dozen or so pictures...it's odd, though. It says it's a 24-shot one. I guess my confusion is a given, given the fact I've never really used a film camera before. (actually, I have, but it was in Colorado. Like twelve years ago. Disposable. Yes.)
Girl X is still on the lam. Question is, do I forget her as I've always thought of her (potentially meaning the abrupt and unstoppable return of affection just as she returns), or should I let absence do what it does?
...
Even more important, even if I could make my bloody mind up, would I be able to act accordingly?
!Noah!
Dec 16, 2011
Words
I freaking love words.
Juxtaposition, quazar, quixotic, pathetic.
Whatever.
Words are too cheap.
Distrobution is in the hands of all, the work of a second.
Words should be precious.
!Noah!
Juxtaposition, quazar, quixotic, pathetic.
Whatever.
Words are too cheap.
Distrobution is in the hands of all, the work of a second.
Words should be precious.
!Noah!
Nov 27, 2011
Silverware
Once there was a man who made silverware. For no obvious reason, though, he chose to create his silverware such that they appeared to be spoons and yet were forks. Many were outraged that when they went to eat spaghetti they would find the noodles slipping from their grasp, and when eating soup find that the soup would merely pass through their spoon. People asked him again and again why he did this, but never did the man give a reason.
The man continued throughout his life to create his wares thus, and continued over time to become less and less respected and wealthy. Eventually, he found that his business could no longer support itself, and so closed up shop.
The spoon is a multi-million year old rock.
The fork is a multi-thousand year old rock.
The man is God.
!Noah!
Nov 2, 2011
The Ant and the Eagle
A long time ago, after caterpillars had learned to fly but before dandelions took to the skies, there lived an ant in an anthill a long way from the front steps in a crack in the sidewalk. This ant wanted to fly. He spent his days watching the sparrows, bees, butterflies, and eagles in the skies, wishing he, too, could feel the wind in his...well, generally assaulting his person.
One day, he found the sparrow rummaging nearby and went up to him.
“Sparrow, friend, I have seen you fly above the treetops with such ease! How do you coax the wind to hold you aloft?” he queried politely.
The sparrow was hungry and not in a mood to talk, so he pecked at the ant and made to eat him. The ant bolted away quickly and, with panic enough for one day, went to bed to sleep.
The ant woke the next day with one dream in his mind still, to fly! He thought today to ask the kindly butterfly, who wouldn’t eat other things alive. Without delay he climbed a blooming daisy and scanned the skies for the butterfly. No sooner had he looked when the butterfly landed nearby, and spoke to him.
“Good morning, ant! The flowers are beautiful today!” she said happily. The butterfly was usually cheery.
“Good morning, butterfly. The flowers are beautiful indeed, but I only wish to see the sky up close!”
The butterfly nodded sadly. “The sky is beautiful as well. I would carry you there, but my wings are new, and even carrying my own weight aloft is difficult. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor!”
The ant left the butterfly sadly, and returned to his hill once more. The night passed and he slept not, wishing only to go to see the sky
Finally, as the sun’s rays found their way to his hill and the sounds of the morning began, the ant once more ventured forth to find a way to go above the trees.
A heart-wrenching screech went out over the tops of the trees and a rush of wind signaled the arrival of the eagle. The ant scrambled wildly and called to the eagle repeatedly, hoping not to lose this opportunity. To his relief, the eagle came soaring down to him, nearly blowing him half a foot away. The eagle was huge compared to either the sparrow and the butterfly, and much more majestic. Thus the ant addressed him with respect.
“O kindly eagle, I have spent my life wishing to fly and to take to the air, but I have no wings, and the sparrow was unwilling, and the butterfly unable to take me aloft. Would you in your generosity use your great wings to show me the wonder of flight?”
The eagle looked at him and nodded.
He lowered his head and the ant climbed on.
The wind instantly rushed over the ant’s body like a tsunami, shooting through his legs and going on. The ant unfortunately didn’t have eyelids, and thus couldn’t have them fly back and expose his eyeball. Regardless, the ant and the eagle flew that day for a long time, and when the ant became tired, the eagle set him down right next to his hill.
The ant and the eagle became good friends over time, and the ant learned many things from the eagle.
Never trust a sparrow.
One day, he found the sparrow rummaging nearby and went up to him.
“Sparrow, friend, I have seen you fly above the treetops with such ease! How do you coax the wind to hold you aloft?” he queried politely.
The sparrow was hungry and not in a mood to talk, so he pecked at the ant and made to eat him. The ant bolted away quickly and, with panic enough for one day, went to bed to sleep.
The ant woke the next day with one dream in his mind still, to fly! He thought today to ask the kindly butterfly, who wouldn’t eat other things alive. Without delay he climbed a blooming daisy and scanned the skies for the butterfly. No sooner had he looked when the butterfly landed nearby, and spoke to him.
“Good morning, ant! The flowers are beautiful today!” she said happily. The butterfly was usually cheery.
“Good morning, butterfly. The flowers are beautiful indeed, but I only wish to see the sky up close!”
The butterfly nodded sadly. “The sky is beautiful as well. I would carry you there, but my wings are new, and even carrying my own weight aloft is difficult. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor!”
The ant left the butterfly sadly, and returned to his hill once more. The night passed and he slept not, wishing only to go to see the sky
Finally, as the sun’s rays found their way to his hill and the sounds of the morning began, the ant once more ventured forth to find a way to go above the trees.
A heart-wrenching screech went out over the tops of the trees and a rush of wind signaled the arrival of the eagle. The ant scrambled wildly and called to the eagle repeatedly, hoping not to lose this opportunity. To his relief, the eagle came soaring down to him, nearly blowing him half a foot away. The eagle was huge compared to either the sparrow and the butterfly, and much more majestic. Thus the ant addressed him with respect.
“O kindly eagle, I have spent my life wishing to fly and to take to the air, but I have no wings, and the sparrow was unwilling, and the butterfly unable to take me aloft. Would you in your generosity use your great wings to show me the wonder of flight?”
The eagle looked at him and nodded.
He lowered his head and the ant climbed on.
The wind instantly rushed over the ant’s body like a tsunami, shooting through his legs and going on. The ant unfortunately didn’t have eyelids, and thus couldn’t have them fly back and expose his eyeball. Regardless, the ant and the eagle flew that day for a long time, and when the ant became tired, the eagle set him down right next to his hill.
The ant and the eagle became good friends over time, and the ant learned many things from the eagle.
Never trust a sparrow.
The End
!Noah!
Oct 2, 2011
For Some Odd Reason (pt. 10)
Ratchet hadn't much liked the idea of disembodiment much before in her life, and it didn't seem awfully pleasant even now. Being that the wind was currently assaulting her from all sides, disembodiment seemed not a bad word to describe her current situation. Ratchet was also getting tired. She's kinda lost track of time, so she couldn't have known she'd been awake for a straight week, but her body was catching up with the fact, and she fell asleep. She also fell speedily toward the ground.
Ratchet woke up again in a hospital bed, and blinked five times. The room was empty and dark. She found she couldn't remember why she was in the hospital. On the whiteboard across from her was written a name:
Dr. Cook.
It seemed odd until she looked at her hand. In all honesty, she actually looked a couple inches above her wrist. There wasn't much hand there to be seen. Peculiar.
And then it all came together. Literally and figuratively. Her hand reassembled from gaseous elements, and she decided to be a superhero. She left her bed and jumped out the window.
The rest is history. Or, rather, unwritten fiction. But still a history of sorts.
!Noah!
Ratchet woke up again in a hospital bed, and blinked five times. The room was empty and dark. She found she couldn't remember why she was in the hospital. On the whiteboard across from her was written a name:
Dr. Cook.
It seemed odd until she looked at her hand. In all honesty, she actually looked a couple inches above her wrist. There wasn't much hand there to be seen. Peculiar.
And then it all came together. Literally and figuratively. Her hand reassembled from gaseous elements, and she decided to be a superhero. She left her bed and jumped out the window.
The rest is history. Or, rather, unwritten fiction. But still a history of sorts.
!Noah!
Sep 22, 2011
Don't Copy this Post
Seriously. Don't even think about it.
People, let's start with something simple. Copy and past a link to something awwesssommmeee. This isn't so bad. Hey, I do it a lot, even. Linking to a Youtube video is second. It's more annoying 'cause you can't be sure it's not interesting until you've seen the first few seconds of it.
But forwarding emails, copying and pasting posts or statii on Facebook.
Please. Please, listen to these simple tips.
One: we're in the information age. That means you have gazillions of images, articles, games, blogging sites, video upload sites, oh, and photo upload sites. Soooo many.
Lots.
So I ask you...with all this information at your fingertips, seconds away from your eyes, why, in the name of Q-tips and apple pie, would you copy and paste almost anything? Hey, I may be a radical who practically forwards/copy/pastes anything, but really. It took me less than five seconds to make sure a story wasn't true. There's Urban Legends, there's Snopes. For heaven's sake, there's Google. Things like these go around, and people ask about things like these. Thus, there's information on things like these on the internet. A couple clicks and a dozen or so keypresses away.
Two: Use common sense. I perhaps use this to an excessive degree, where I won't even forward the awe-inspiring or tear-jerking emails to friends or family...but that's not the point. There are very, very few times when your forwarding something or reposting something or copying a status will actually have a meaningful effect on someone's life. And guess what? If you spend ten minutes researching someone who's actually legitimately in need, or, heck, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or even visiting the bed-ridden...
Well, just ask yourself this: which is most self-sacrificial? Which shows most you care to the person in need?
Granted, there are times when forwards aren't the worst possible thing in the world. Occasionally, they're funny, cute, gut-wrenching, or something. Moderately tolerable. Sometimes these forward/repost/status things aren't completely bogus. That's where you really need your common sense.
My apologies if this wasn't helpful and was just annoying.
I get ticked off by this stuff easily.
To cheer you up from that rant:
youtube.com/watch?v=KCSA7kKNu2Y
!Noah!
People, let's start with something simple. Copy and past a link to something awwesssommmeee. This isn't so bad. Hey, I do it a lot, even. Linking to a Youtube video is second. It's more annoying 'cause you can't be sure it's not interesting until you've seen the first few seconds of it.
But forwarding emails, copying and pasting posts or statii on Facebook.
Please. Please, listen to these simple tips.
One: we're in the information age. That means you have gazillions of images, articles, games, blogging sites, video upload sites, oh, and photo upload sites. Soooo many.
Lots.
So I ask you...with all this information at your fingertips, seconds away from your eyes, why, in the name of Q-tips and apple pie, would you copy and paste almost anything? Hey, I may be a radical who practically forwards/copy/pastes anything, but really. It took me less than five seconds to make sure a story wasn't true. There's Urban Legends, there's Snopes. For heaven's sake, there's Google. Things like these go around, and people ask about things like these. Thus, there's information on things like these on the internet. A couple clicks and a dozen or so keypresses away.
Two: Use common sense. I perhaps use this to an excessive degree, where I won't even forward the awe-inspiring or tear-jerking emails to friends or family...but that's not the point. There are very, very few times when your forwarding something or reposting something or copying a status will actually have a meaningful effect on someone's life. And guess what? If you spend ten minutes researching someone who's actually legitimately in need, or, heck, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or even visiting the bed-ridden...
Well, just ask yourself this: which is most self-sacrificial? Which shows most you care to the person in need?
Granted, there are times when forwards aren't the worst possible thing in the world. Occasionally, they're funny, cute, gut-wrenching, or something. Moderately tolerable. Sometimes these forward/repost/status things aren't completely bogus. That's where you really need your common sense.
My apologies if this wasn't helpful and was just annoying.
I get ticked off by this stuff easily.
To cheer you up from that rant:
youtube.com/watch?v=KCSA7kKNu2Y
!Noah!
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