THRILL OF YOUR LIFE

Perhaps there are things that should not transcend cultures....

Un themed love

Perhaps Christmas just isn't for people like me. I mean, I enjoy ...the finer things in life. I enjoy...well let's get straight to the point. I enjoy when things are decorated nicely. Coordinating colors, themes. You know, nice stuff. Yet Christmas comes and there this barrage of colors that are all so loud, it's like they're yelling at me. None of them get along, and, if you live in my house, none of them are from the same decade. Ornaments from years past seem to make it to our tree each year, and each year I contemplate breaking them by "accident" so we can get new ones. I've been putting up nicknacks on our windowsills and mantels. My mom calls them decorations. Again, it feels like a collage of stuff gathered from all ends of the earth. Different things I made in grade school are on the hearth hanging out with any random Christmas oriented gifts we've collected in years past. I suppose it's something about sentimental value. I'm putting up these decorations, few of which i like and something starts to happen as I look around, and it looks different than before. Tackier, yes, but more than that. It feels kinda warm. Like love had spilled over into those crafts, and thought had spilled over into those gifts. I try to shake the sentimental moment-- But it stayed. I kind still feel it now, as I look around at mismatched care and un-themed love. It feels kinda like warm, and kinda like home. Maybe, just maybe Christmas is for people like me after all.

to sir, without love

I hate time. I hate worshiping the clock, looking for it's approval, bowing down like some sort of idiot, unable to fend for myself. Unable to make my own decisions. I hate the feeling of rushed. I hate the feeling of timed. I hate time. I hate thinking about how long im taking, how much time i have left. I hate thinking about the next thing to do while still in the middle of this..... the sun rose this morning (after I did mind you) (the clock said it was time to get up) and it went down today too, just like i'll go to sleep. But i wish I could go to sleep now. but i have stuff to do. it's not time yet.

exerpts from donald miller

When you are a speaker and a writer, you aren't supposed to watch television. It's shallow. I felt guilty because for a long time i didn't allow myself a television, and I used to drop that fact in conversation to impress people. I thought it made me sound dignified. I couple of years ago however, I visited a church in the suberbs, and there was the blowhard precher talking about how watching television rots you brain. He said that when we are watching television, we our minds are working no harder than when we are sleeping. I thought that sounded heavenly. I bought one that afternoon.

--donald miller, blue like jazz

sauna

there are many reasons I love my heritage. One of those reasons is the sauna. 'cause there is nothing like sweating my own sweat and knowing that i did absolutely nothing to get it there.

canvas

ok, so it's been months since ive been here. so what. i guess i had nothing worth telling, a joke is only funny once....or at least it should only be funny once.

Acctually, i've been thinking about art recently. How an artists mind works, seemingly so complex, so beautiful. I wish i was more artsy. i have always wished that. i think i would be if i took the time to show it. I think the only thing I wanted to say here, but can''t find a creative way to say it is that we express things in art that we feel but would never dare admit in real life. It's as if a canvas of any medium becomes a reality to which we can speak freely knowing the deaf ears that hear our complaints.

like a sale at the brick

Miss ..ter

Working at CK, you meet a lot of people. Most are kind older English gentlemen who call you dear, or sweetie. This past week I had a slightly less honest experience. Two ladies sat down and I went to greet them and I complimented one on their bracelets. Bangals , like from india. I like that sort of thing. The thank you to my compliment rang clear in my ears. A deep hearty thank you. It sent shivers down my spine.

The ladies were homely looking. Awkward almost. I would have set them in the catagory of "the awkward people of the world" (perhaps another blog for another time) yet that 'thank you'... Alright, they were more than homely. They were ugly. Down-right-not-pretty-people. Perhaps they were...no, never mind.

I began to judge myself for making such a judgment call. To question someones gender is perhaps the lowest blow to take on someones looks. Yet the "thank you" ...the homeliness...

If they really were that ugly, to spend their time with each other would be the smartest thing to do. I'm sure they would never marry..because ...well...ok, maybe if they met a blind guy. So to spend an evening together out for dinner...

I spent a better part of their stay wondering and finally, after observing their painted toe nails and lovely anklets, I asked the manager, and sure enough, they had been their before, and they were as I thought. Mr & Mr. sick.

Steele the best (by JAK)

film making. it's what I love, it's what, when I get a chance, I do. This "interest" of mine has left me as what I would call a critic. Therefore this review has been written by Jak.

Seraphim Falls. Liam Neeson, Peirce Brosnan, Destination Films 2006. I have to admit, I only wanted to watch this film for one reason. I enjoyed Remington Steele...alright-- i indulged in it. So a new film with Peirce in it caught my attention. Though he's not the dashing young chap he was, I wanted to see what my 1980's hero was up to on the small screen. (as far as I know, it never made it to the "big screen" thank goodness) Unaware of any sort of plot line any sort if idea what this Seraphim fall held in store, I purposed to see it. I sat down today and wasted a good couple hours of my life. The movie starts out with liam chasing peirce through the wilderness. I figure, interesting opening, not telling us why, but letting us see the chase. A few minutes go by. Still very little action, very little reason. Those minutes turn into 1 hour and 20 minutes of chase before we find out why. that's over 2/3rds of the film. Now aleast for the rest of the chase we know what it's about. And he continues chasing him. that's it. That is the movie. It was boring , it was long. It was aweful, to say the least.

I always said I didn't like Peirce, I only like Remington. Now, I know why. He was the best. I suppose they just don't make peirce...I mean movies like they used to.

you know you're in whtiehorse for a while when...

your van is indefinatley in the shop.... there's no place like home.... there's no place like home.... there's no place like home....

You know youre in the yukon when...

there are no sinlge misquitos here in white horse. they are all married and have big families.

You know you live in BC when....

you know that the only thing past Hope is Hell's gate.
(and williams lake....)
(and I suppose I should mention north country and the Yukon where I am going in 2 sleeps.)
(ok it was just geographical humor....)

THANK YOU

this is a special thank you for all my fans who thew a surprise b-day party for me on my 2 weeks before I turn 19 day. You guys rock. Grey owl all the way. Oh hey, know what I never thought of..Robin Crusoe. (or however you say that)

later

you order a pizza?

I've been told that I should not go "looking for boys" I've been told I should just wait. "You never know, perhaps one day God will drop on on your doorstep"....but...you know... I don't think I want to marry the postman, or the pizza guy for that matter.

Santa Baby

Two boys were walking home from Sunday school after hearing a strong
sermon on the devil.
One said to the other, "What do you think about all this Satan stuff?"
The other boy replied, "Well, you know how Santa Claus turned out.
It's probably just your Dad."

Jones Soda Spelling Snafu...( by dairn peters)

I thought this far too funny not to share...

Recently, they have been searching for the red elixor at corner stores and gas stations and haven't been able to procure any Fu-Fu Berry soda. I thought this strange, so during my trip to Surrey yesterday I decided to drop by a few places and surprise them with my innate ability to successfully forage for Fu-Fu.

At the Chevron gas station, kitty-corner to the Johnston Heights Evangelical Free Church on 152nd Street, I looked at the glass case in dismay, as their Jones Soda selection was somewhat pitiful. As I was leaving the store, the man behind the counter asked if he could help me. I told him I was looking for Fu-Fu Berry flavoured Jones Soda. He said that he would look into ordering it, and proceeded to write it down on a piece of paper. However, in his ethnicity (and me in mine, I might add), he wrote down, "Jones Soda - Fruit Berry." I kindly repeated the name, Fu-Fu Berry, and he kindly repeated, Fruit Berry, back to me.

Now, if I was thinking about ten steps ahead of the game (like a champion chess player or captain of the Enterprise, Jean Luc Picard, for example), I might not have made the mistake of trying to tell him the correct spelling... out loud... to his face.

"No, it's Fu-Fu Berry, that's f-u, f-u..." At this point, my mind just realized what I said to the poor man (f...u, f...u), and I actually reached for his little pencil he was writing with. He repeated, "fruit berry??" to me in his broken english. I replied, "umm, no. It's Fu-Fu... (by this time I'm feeling rather silly saying Fu-Fu) ... f-u... f-... ummm, never mind. Thanks anyways."

Makes you wonder if this is exactly the scenario those Jones Soda people were snickering about when they thought up the Fu-Fu Berry name....

Things that don't add up.

They have "support dry grad" fund raiser at the liquor store. Isn't that a little....ironic? It's like putting a "support our obese" campaign in the bakery, or a "help our homeless" in real estate office. So, you can't have what I'm here to buy, alas I'll not only support me in getting it but I'll support you in not. Somethings mon amie, don't add up.

amazingly simple home remedies

(taken from an email david sent me..)

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto. The blockage will be almost instantly removed.

2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away.

3. Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the toilet seat by simply using the sink.

4. For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.

5. A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives, then you will be afraid to cough.

7. Have a bad toothache? Smash your thumb with a hammer and you will forget about the toothache.

Sometimes, we just need to remember what the rules of life really are:

You only need two tools: WD-40 and Duct Tape.
If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40.
If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

Remember:

Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.
Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.
If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You get another chance.
And finally:

Be really nice to your family and friends; you never know when you might need them to empty your bedpan

Grey Owl

History never looked better.

Bond, Jim Bond. (it's ok, we're friends)

It's about posting things that make you smile, right Leah?

it's like pulling teeth

That phrase used to hold some water, but now, they just gas you. I was on an interesting trip today. yesterday was valentines day. I was being "non dated". today, a whole new outlook on life. I got sedated. i woke up in another room, with a needle in my arm. you know when you're a kid and you go in the merry go round?? I felt the same way, but lying down. dizzy. I also left what little was in my stomach there, in a bowl I got the pleasure of hold bags of peas on my face all day. it brought new meaning to childish term so fondly known as "pee brain". also, i've been experiencing the joys of that which we lovingly call "T3's" I suppose I have been taught well.

and so, what now? one would ask. With four sources of wisdom gone forever, I need to do the only smart thing I know. I need to milk it for all it's worth. See you next week. I'm in recovery.

Roger that...

A recent favorite quote : "I'm not stalking you, I'm just keeping you company...."

I watch a movie last month. It was rated R for brief language, but I didn't hear them talk about tightie whities at all, the whole time. Speaking of brief, I'll make this short, because of it's nature....

I did some research. I have "the guys" email address and last name. I found a small, very small photo, about 2" by 2" and it doesn't even touch the concept of the word justice. now that info I could sell for more than 5 bucks....

over and out

Har har....groan...

So, I just got a phone call confirming the 60 lb of mustard I just ordered. And where can we drop it off? I love that you haven't hit puberty yet and the office you call from has other non puberty kids laughing in the back ground. Whatever happened to good ol' funny prank calls? Do you have jerry in a can?? ....yes sir, we do. "well then , you better let him out!!"
...well I think it was better than the mustard confirmation. Am I suppose to laugh now..?

I sink it's funny...

I don't know if I have raved about this one for a while.....raved is an interesting word....hold on a minute....back. here's a few definitions from dictionary.com Rave:

1.An extravagantly enthusiastic opinion or review

2.An all-night dance party, especially one where techno, house, or other electronically synthesized music is played.

3.(Chiefly British) A raucous party; a rave-up.

...interesting. I never thought of that. i mean the intense opinion and the all night dance party....same word...

anyways, i don't think I've raved about this for a while. the german coast guard commercial. It's epic.(you'll have to copy and paste the link)

http://www.stupidvideos.com/video/commercials/German_Coast_Guard_2/

Jerry on the spot 1

In alot of ways, the book store is like a "smarter than you " store And that's why people are intimidated. Because to walk into a book store you have to admit that there is something that you don't know. And the worst part is, you don't even know where it is. You go into the bookstore and have to ask "where is this? where is that? Not only do I lack knowlege, I don't even know where to get it." So just to walk into a bookstore, you're admitting to the world, "I'm not too bright".

I love the word "beckons"

There's nothing in our "old lives" for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go! This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?"

--Eugene Peterson

Brown Paper Bags

All things from the produce go in plastic bags. All except mushrooms. They go in paper bags. They grow in dark brown dirt just to go into brown paper bags to sit in the bottom drawer of the fridge. The only other thing that goes in brown paper bags is moonshine...and barf. Barf goes in brown paper bags. Sometimes, if you get a cookie from a cafe, they give it to you in a brown paper bag. But those bags usually have the cafe name on it, unless it's an underground...no... what do you call them....independent cafe, then it may be a plain bag, in which case you can be assured that that is some crap cookie in there, let me tell you.

Holy Cow

Do you know what this calls for Marianne?!? This calls for BANANA BREAD.
....and that calls for MILK. I think that everything calls for milk. Maybe except....(thinking pause)jello. Jello doesn't call for milk. But everything else calls for milk. I love milk. I love milk so much that if I wasn't a christian I would be a hindu so I could worship cows. That's how much I love milk.

dancing with myself

I'm not a big card game person. I enjoy the occasional game, and
consider myself to be able able to handle a game well enough. Of all
the games one could think of to play, I am having the utmost
difficulty with one. Don't laugh. This is not a laughing matter. I
suck at solitaire. I know, how could it be?? Is that not a game that
you play........ Yes, it's a game you play alone. But I loose
every time. Literally, I have not won yet. If you, my friend think you
can do better, I'll challenge you. Next time you see me, I gladly hand
you my ipod and you can see if you can beat the blasted thing. It must
be set on extreme difficulty. I can't win, I just can't.

72 - 43 = 29

Je pense que ne dorment pas pour hour de 72 est un ne bon pas idea. (that was an attempt at french) After 43 hours, the fight between my mind and the caffeine in jolt took ahold of my will power (and seemingly my ability to see) (all was blurry if I didn't focus) I went to bed at 0:43 hours. Insanity was hit after about 15 hours, on the first night, new years eve. (when i would normally be awake anyways)
I was told a number of times from a few people "Jen, I'm so glad that you don't drink" So am I my friend, so am I....

Day one of "back to reality": installing myself back into functioning society, I experienced some technical difficulties, or memory laps (or lasps, i don't remember what one)aka brain farts. where I had difficulty remembering events of the past few days. I was also unaware of what had happened on tv vs real life vs in my head. I found myself having to second and third guess information I thought I had, and where it truly originated from.

and so this moring a woke up at a healthy 9:30 like a 'normal' functioning member of society. either way, I came 29 hours from....(dun dun dun.......) true insanity.

72 and nothing.

Probably at something like 34 hours or something now. This perhaps may sound highly unusual, but I have nothing to say. No really funny stories, no obscure observations. I'm tired, but that's about it.

There are two things I love to do. Nothing,as I have previously stated, and on the opposite side of the spectrum, something. Like to accomplish something, be productive. It feels good. In the past 34 or so hours, I have accomplished nothing. Perhaps even less than that.

So I have this to report of my journey to insanity: nothing.