The End (In Praise of Harry Potter)

"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.... At these times... I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure." (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, 2000).

Well. I just finished watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2. The final movie in the Harry Potter series.

It was an amazing thing to see, and I was fortunate that I got to go see it with my family. We were all there in the theater together when the first Harry Potter film was released, way back in 2001, and it seemed only fitting that I got to see the last one with them as well.

When we went to see it back in 2001, we were living in Tokyo, Japan. I was ten years old. We went to see it in the Virgin theater, and it had Japanese subtitles up the side. Seeing it was pure magic, and I remember sharing my fascination and love for the wizarding world with all the other Japanese theater-goers that day. For that moment, culture didn't matter. We were all there at Hogwarts together. That was my first experience with the idea that "Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open." (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2000).

Half my life has passed since then. We've all grown up, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way, who feels that special bond with this series and those characters. The years I've spent waiting for each book, and then the accompanying movie, to come out have been the most definitive and difficult years of my existence. In a way, Harry Potter has shaped the way I've grown up, and maybe even shaped some of the person I am still in the process of becoming.

Some people may say that Harry Potter was a fad, a brief craze, and that it's all over now, but it was sure fun while it lasted. These people, sad to say, are dead wrong. For those of us growing up in the first decade of a new millennium, Harry Potter was a whole lot more. Because there is power in stories, and even more power in a story well told. J. K. Rowling has harnessed this power for good, and with it she has inadvertently shaped an entire generation. There are millions of children, now, who believe in magic, who are inspired to create, who have grown to love reading, who are uplifted and strengthened and taught to believe that "Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (screenplay)).

I should know. I'm one of those kids. I was already taught to believe, but upon discovery, Ms. Rowling's world provided a proving ground for the principles I was learning; that wisdom is to be valued, hope springs eternal, our morals do matter, friendships are a source of great strength, self-sacrifice is eventually rewarded, death is not the end, good will triumph over evil, and that "It is our choices who make us who we are, far more than our abilities." (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, 1999).

It is for this reason that Harry Potter will literally become "The Boy Who Lived," for many, many generations yet to come. It is for this reason that he and his story have become so famous to begin with. And it is for this reason that my feelings are so bittersweet, now that the final film has finally made its debut. I feel like I'm saying farewell to my childhood along with the series.

Of course, with every ending, something else begins, and I have a strong feeling that the next decade will be very like when Harry realizes there is a much bigger game being played and starts hunting for the Horcruxes. There is a lot of work to be done. Harry's adventures are officially over, but mine? Mine are just beginning.

"There was no point in worrying yet.... what would come, would come... and he would have to meet it when it did." (J.K. Rowling, "The Beginning," Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2000).

And as soon as my children are old enough to be read to, we'll start with the Sorcerer's Stone.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, 2007).

London Adventures

Disclaimer: This post represents the sole effort to communicate with any non-London community beyond my family during my study abroad. I was perpetually distracted for the remainder of my time there. You'll get a better post later, I promise.

I assure you, I am not up writing this at 3:35 am. I am actually sitting in my flat in London at 11:35 writing this.

I am most fortunate to have been selected by my university to go on a fantastic six-week Study Abroad to London, England. I've been here since Wednesday. To get here, I had to catch a flight from Salt Lake to the George Bush International Airport in Houston, Texas. Very simple.

Ah-ha, but whilst leaving the United States is simple, getting into the UK is certainly not. The flight itself passed uneventfully, although the kid sitting next to me on the plane threw up as we were landing.

(I love flying. I understand that it's crowded, and you get cramps, have to wait until the bathroom is vacant to go, are stuck with crying babies and germs and turbulence and the horrible ever-present smell of airplane coffee, but the fact is that I am shooting through the sky at the speed of sound, thousands of feet above the ground, seeing the world from a whole new perspective. Give and take, everyone. Give and take.)

After the plane, though, all visitors to the UK have to stand in a huge line, or "queue," as they like to call it, that snakes eternally towards the generally crabby, sharp-eyed and rather intimidating Customs Agents. A.k.a., "They-who-can-and-will-deport-you-if-you-give-them-the-excuse." Although all the students in our group were armed with a letter explaining why we were there and that we won't going to steal their jobs, 45 minutes of shuffling along, double-checking my passport, and nail-biting ensued.

Then the proverbial ogress at my literal gate drilled me about discrepancies in my addresses for all of five minutes, during which I did not have the ability to swallow spit, and then let me and my luggage go on my merry way.

I and my companions (Breanne and Addison, a delightful married couple) took the lift down to the bowels of the Heathrow airport, where the dragon called the London Underground lived. After purchasing our magical Oyster Cards, we were able to tame this beast and make it do our bidding, namely, we rode it to the Tube Stop closest to our flats and "alighted." After death-marching down Gloucester Road (Pronounced "Gloss-ter" not "Glou-chester") for an indeterminable amount of time, dragging our luggage, we arrived at Hyde Park Gate number 37, flat number 1, which had been remodeled merely two days ago and still smelled like sawdust.

Upon discovering that there were no towels (Argh!) with which to shower with, I crashed on the top-right bunk of the room at the very end of the longest hallway I had ever seen. Room D. I am quite fond of it now. It has the best windows ever and is very clean, white, and British. We even get maids to do the heavy cleaning. Our kitchen is amazing, too. We have three ovens, four fridges and freezers, two microwaves, and all sorts of fancy cooking equipment. It almost makes me want to go gourmet, except I know I'm going to be eating cereal and microwave meals the entire time we're here.

London itself is very cosmopolitan. People from all over, walking on all sides of the sidewalk, speaking French, German, Spanish, Chinese, Swedish, Portuguese, Afrikaans, Japanese, and English in all kinds of different accents. Everybody and their dog seems to be represented! Literally. Lots of people, lots of dogs. Lots of people walking their dogs. Lots of people walking more than one dog. London is very dog friendly, it seems.

It's also very old! In the US, we are proud of our buildings that have stood for a hundred years. In London, that is nothing. Nothing at all! There is so much old stuff here! I love it!

Well, I know this is lame, and I wanted to wow people with my clever cultural insights, but my body is currently complaining that it is 5:00 a.m. and what is my brain thinking letting me stay up this late? So until next time, adieu! (Gasp! French word!) And stay tuned for more London Adventures!

For Non-Vocational Majors: Something to Tuck Up Your Sleeve

I am approaching the 1-year anniversary of my English major declaration, and I cannot count on one hand how many times someone has asked me "You're an English major? What are you going to do with that?" Or some such variation upon that theme.


Do? Do!? What am I going to do?! As in "How-are-you-going-to-be-employed-in-a-reliable-occupation-and-do-your-duty-to-the-nation-if-you-spend-your-youth-studying-this-superfluous-subject?"* It strikes me that I am probably not the only human being ever to experience this distressing implied question. English, History, Theatre, Art, Music...we all suffer under the same needless misapprehension! As a non-vocational major, I say unto you, my non-vocational major allies, ENOUGH! Superfluous subjects UNITE!

Marxism aside, there has to be some witty, cutting, nonsensical way to respond to this kind of query. As I am an occasional expert in being witty/cutting as well as a full-time expert in being nonsensical, I thought I would put together the following list of possible responses. Ahem.


Cue: "You're majoring in (insert major here)? What are you going to do with that?"


1). "I'm doing it. What about you?"

2). "I'm going to plan, prepare for, and execute the sole successful heist of all the Swiss Banks at the same time."

3). "I'm going to be the next J. K. Rowling/Abraham Lincoln/Idina Menzel/Pablo Picasso/John Williams." **

4). "I will not stop until I have achieved total world domination."

5). "I am going to do whatever I want. Hah!"

6). "I am probably going to be your boss."

7). "I am going to go to grad school and get a M.A. in something completely different." ***

8). "I am going to single-handedly save human culture from total degradation."

9). "I'm going to adopt a lot of cats and will all of my diamonds and millions to them after I pass on."

10). "I'm going to take lots of naps."

11). "I'm going to engrave my accumulated wisdom into a large boulder and leave it for generations long hence to discover and marvel at."

12). "I'm going to continue to inhale, exhale, and pump blood, just like you."

13). "I'm going to accidentally discover a cure for cancer and ignorance."

14). "I am going to be a useful, productive member of society."

15). "I am going to compile my life experiences into one tome and sell this auto-biography for a ridiculous sum of money."

16). "I don't know yet, but it will involve the phrase 'carpe diem!' and bungee jumping."

17). "I am going to be a hobo and live in a cardboard box in the park."

18). "I am never going to go to school again. Ever."

19). "I am going to eat ten pieces of chocolate a day."

20). "I am going to dwell with a pack of wolves for a year, just for kicks."

21). "I am going to become the best human being I possibly can."

22). "I am going to scale Everest and plant my personal flag at the top. First I'll need to make a good flag, though."

23). "I am going to endure three more grueling years of higher education."

24). "I am going convert my garage into a secret lab, complete with crocodiles."

25). "I don't know, what do you think?"

26). "I am going to marry a fine young man/lady, and we are going to be very cliche and happy!"*****

27). "I am going to walk on the moon. Or perhaps steal it."

28). "I am going to sell used parachutes."

29). "It's a secret, and not meant for the ears of the FBI."

30). "I'm going to earn a paycheck doing something I absolutely love. Can you say the same, sir?"*****

31). "I am going to turn to a life of piracy. It's my only option."

32). "I am going to fall into a vat of toxic waste and fight crime with my dubious superpowers."

33). "I am going to crawl under a photocopier and weep for what might have been."

34). "I am going to drive down the road on a motorcycle very fast and Never. Look. Back."

35). "I am going to go to Australia and wrestle wombats for the rest of my days."

36). "I am going to plot the coup of a small country and re-name it "Awesomeland."

37). "I will eventually die peacefully in my sleep surrounded by countless posterity."

38). "I'm going to start my very own Psychic Hotline, and only service people who are confirmed Virgos or Aquariuses."

39). "I shall occupy my corner of angst and woe with dignity."

40). "I am going to travel to a secret hermitage in the mountains of Nepal and learn the secrets of love and the universe."

41). "I am going to discover what, exactly, goes into a can of Spam."

42). "That would be telling."

43). "I am going to post countless videos of myself doing the dance to "All the Single Ladies" on YouTube."

44). "I am going to learn ventriloquism and own a puppet named Hubert Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff, Sr."******

45). "I am going to retire 20 years before you do."

46). "I am going to become the Queen of England's most trusted food taster. Got to make sure there's no cyanide in Her Majesty's tea."

47). "I am going to be the first to invent an engine that runs purely on tap water and gummy bears."

48). "I am going to sit and stare at a particularly interesting patch of brick wall for a very long time."

49). "I am going to spin a colorful wheel and immediately adopt whatever it lands on as my chosen career."

50). "Meh."

51). "I am going to coexist with my parents and their basement for the rest of my mortal existence."

52). "I'm going to blow this joint! Literally!"

53). "I am going to pursue a lucrative and rewarding career, such as pearl diving."

54). "I am going to spend my life memorizing Pi to the 1,000,000,000,000,000,000th
digit."*******

55). "I am going to breed toucans."

56). "I am going to be the most successful tax evader EVER!"

57). "You don't know the half of what I am going to accomplish, my friend."

58). "I am going to be a janitor at a small, out-of-the-way Jr. high school."

59). "I'm not sure, but keep an eye on "America's Most Wanted."

60). "I am going to buy all the UNESCO World Heritage Sites and charge everyone $5 to see 'em. $8 if they want pictures."

61). "I am going to go away and start my own monastic order. Drop me a line when you're ready to seek the divine."

62). "I am going to be the only person in the world who can lick their elbow."

63). "I will lavish all of my affection on trivial, uncaring household appliances."

64). "I will go on an extended, cross-country road trip in my Little Red Wagon™."

65). "I am going to join the circus as the Most Magnificent Mundini, the most fantastic trapeze artist in the known Tri-State area."

67). "I am going to grow moss on every bodily surface possible."

68). "I am going to be the one who tracks you down when you haven't filed your paperwork correctly."

69). "I am going to hang off of telephone poles and traffic lights and shout inane things at passers-by."

70). "I am going to create the most perfect blend of lemonade known to mankind. You can be my taste-tester."



I'm sure there are twice as many possible responses, if not more, but I have not the time to put them all down here at this time. Perhaps I will issue a revised version with 100 responses later, for the fee of 1 chocolate bar per person. Good luck in your soul-inspiring endeavors in the meantime.



---------------------------------------------------------------

*Of course I realize that not everyone means it that way. Sometimes they mean "How-are-you-going-to-support-me-and-be-my-stay-and-helpmeet-as-your-future-husband-or-wife-if-you-spend-your-youth-studying-this-impractical-branch-of-knowledge?" Or other such sentiments.
**Not all of them at once, presumably.
*** A lie.
****Depending.
*****Or madame.
******A real name. Look it up.
*******Impossible, I know.

I am still alive (but it was a close thing)

Updating a blog is harder than I thought. Of course, blogs are pretty much online journals (unless they're advertising traps) and I have YEARS between my journal entries...

So if anyone is reading this and cares, consider yourselves lucky that it's only been three (?) months since the last update.

But, I do actually have a good story.

My wonderful Grandma Carr, who was the inspiration for the title of this blog, passed away on the 7th of this last month. I was there when she passed. I have never kept a death-bed vigil before, and I have to admit it wasn't all that I expected it to be. It was certainly a lot less lonely than I thought it would be. My whole family, including little cousins who didn't quite understand what was happening, managed to pack themselves into my grandparent's tiny bedroom. We were all weepy, but most of us were also smiling and telling stories about what we remembered about her best of all.

(I remembered the dress up box. She would always get it out for me and my sister when we asked. It was full of dresses and wigs and crazy outfits she wore to pageants and plays. Grandma was quite the actress. I wish I had inquired more closely about the history of some of those articles, but me and my younger posse of blood relations were usually too busy creating new histories for them in Middle-Earth or Fairy-land.)

When it got to be time for her to go, we started singing hymns. We are a musical family, but our singing at this time was not the best, being decidedly choked and off-key. I don't think Grandma minded too much, though, and we did make up for it at her funeral. It's funny how we don't realize how amazing some people are until after they are no longer with us.

Anyway, that Thursday night, before the funeral, I had the most horrible stomach cramps I have ever had in my life. Only by turning on my stomach could I get any rest. The next morning, I was not feeling too good, but I was a good student and I was going to go to class, and then to the funeral. Except, I threw up. Horribly. All over the bathroom. I knew something was up, because I didn't feel any better after I tossed my cookies. So I went to bed again, and left my blessed, good-hearted, true friend of a roommate, Kaitlyn, to clean up my awful mess. I SKIPPED CLASS. I slept until ten minutes before Grandma's funeral, only to be awoken by a phone call from my parents reminding me what time it was and where I was supposed to be.

By some miracle, (and the kind-heartedness of a family friend) I made it to the church in time to walk in and sit with the rest of the family. I was glad it was a funeral, because I'm sure I looked absolutely miserable. My stomach hurt throughout all the proceedings, but I actually did enjoy the lovely thoughts family and friends gave about my Grandma. She was the sweetest, kindest, most scatter-brained, funniest person that has ever been. She played watermelons at the grocery store and got other people to do it with her. She ran outside to greet old friends in her underthings. She started the car every morning on pure faith. She listened to people. She took an interest in their lives and really loved them. She danced and sang and played the piano like she meant it. She was the best drama queen actress ever. She liked her hair, and wore curlers in public in the morning. She taught her children how to pray. She loved dogs and grandchildren and laughed when I said something funny, every time. She had a lot a friends and family come to say goodbye to her at that funeral. A lot of them performed with her in the Christmas pageant "The Savior of the World." (If you've never seen it and are in Salt Lake around the Holidays, go see it. One part musical, one part miracle play, all good.) I broke down when they sang "Come Lord Jesus." They sang much better than we did at the deathbed.

So I actually had a pretty good time at the funeral. Who would've thunk? But, you know, my stomach still hurt, and I went back to my apartment directly after. My parents offered to put me up for the weekend, but I declined, citing the paper I had to finish by Monday.

Hah. The irony.

I laid in bed all weekend, doing absolutely nothing but sleeping and staring into space. By Sunday evening, my roommates were pretty worried. I was apparently green by this point, you see, and hadn't kept anything down since Thursday. The parents were called. I was collected and taken home, a short 20 minutes away. They nursed me for a couple more days before deciding to take me to the doctor.

At this point, let me give you some advice. Avoid being hospitalized at all costs. It is not fun. It's cramped. The beds smell weird. You have people bustling around at all hours of the night. People poke you with sharp things. The food stinks (once one can actually eat it.) I believe that they purposely design hospitals with the aim of making a patient want to get out of one as soon as possible. It's like reverse psychology.

I was in that wretched place for five days. At first it didn't matter, because I didn't have enough energy to care or even to THINK THOUGHTS, but eventually thought and reason returned, and when they did, it was pretty boring. There's only so many hours of TV you can watch before your brain starts to melt out your ears. The only good thing besides getting the MRI (It's like riding in a spaceship! Honest!) were the visits. I wasn't up for a lot of interaction, but I sure felt loved when my roommates came to visit and brought me well wishes, or my aunt stopped by and read The Princess Bride aloud to me, or when my grandparents brought me flowers, or when my parents came to just sit with me, or when my neighbors came to check on me. You know who the wonderful people in your life are when they brave the awful hospital smells to come and cheer you up.

Note: Bring sick people flowers. It gives them something to look at besides the blank, white wall.

Eventually I got out of the Big House and was sent home with enough antibiotics to stock a medicine cabinet. Fortunately it was Thanksgiving Break, so I didn't miss too much school. I was even able to eat my favorite things at Thanksgiving dinner (namely pie, pie, and more pie).

In the subsequent follow-up visits, it was revealed to me that I had had a Very Bad Colon Infection. The doctor proceeded to draw helpful pictures on the sanitary paper to help me understand how close I had been to losing a very important part of my guts. "They don't do colon transplants," he said. And: "You were this close [tiny space between thumb and forefinger] to having a major organ fail on you."

Wow. I had expected near-death experiences to be more...exciting. Mine had been rather disappointing in that regard, and I hadn't realized it until after the fact, but one musn't quibble, I suppose.

So there you have it. Two close encounters with death in as many weeks. It's made me think, certainly. Mostly it's just made me feel "dangerous and nifty" (in the words of my Auntie Summer), but I look back and realize that this was a Hard Thing. One of the most difficult things I've ever had to deal with, in fact. And I pulled through okay. I guess I am stronger than I thought I was, although I'm sure that that was the effect of a lot of people praying for me when I couldn't pray for myself, as well as a good deal of Divine Intervention on my behalf. I'm sure my Grandma had something to do with that part.

In short, I feel like a miracle child! I'm grateful that I am so well taken care of. Nothing is more comforting than knowing that people on both sides of the veil have got your back. Now I just need the medical bills to go away...

And now I know how much my vote counts...

At my desk in the sunless depths of the campus library, we have a list of approved activities that you can participate in when there are no patrons to help. One of those activities is reading the news, we being the social sciences department and having an obligation to stay abreast of social happenings. Thus, today I learned that the oil spill in the Gulf isn't as bad as was originally feared, they've caught the perpetrators of a string of murders in Panama, 2010 is the year for weird weather, Proposition 8 has been overturned in California, Michelle Obama is being hailed as a modern "Marie Antoinette," seven puppies were killed on an American Airlines flight...

Wait.

Prop. 8 has been overturned?

I'm sure that many of you recall what a controversy that was back in 2008. Was it really that long ago? Goodness. Anyhow, to cut a long story short, the people of California, or at least, 7,000,000 voters of them, made the decision to ban gay marriage as a legal institution. It was a hard won victory for those determined to support traditional marriage. I know this, because my church was on the front lines of those fighting to get this law passed. Anyone who knows anything about Mormons knows that we are real sticklers for nuclear families. So a lot of us were very vocal about getting Prop. 8 on the law books, despite the overwhelming criticism. And threats. And vandalism of our churches. And angry mobs of protesters. But those were just the extremists, and that's difference of opinion for you.

Whatever your beliefs and/or opinions about gay marriage are, the fact that Proposition 8 has been overturned should be cause for every law-abiding, intelligent American to worry. Why? The headline that caught my eye says it all. "1 Judge voids 7,000,000 voters." One biased judge went up against the entire voting population of California...and won.

What is wrong with this picture?

You could say that it's indicative of how far one group with a vendetta is allowed to go these days. You could say that it's a warning sign that our government is turning towards sacrificing the rights of the many for the desires of the few. You could say that it's a dangerous subversion of the very process of democracy. And you would be right.

And this isn't the first instance that I've read about that has worried me. The government is also backing a lawsuit against one of their own states, and is considering a bill that will allow Obama to shut down the internet on a whim. And who knows what else is going on in Washington right now?

In apology, I didn't intend for my first real post to be an angry political spiel, because that is NOT my forte. At all. I'm just an English major.

Still, being an English major means I can read pretty well.

Everybody start reading the news, because I have the strong feeling that we're all going to need to be very, very aware of what the government is doing these days.

So...here I am.

Welcome to my new blog. I am quite suspicious of it right now.

Firstly, it seems the height of folly for me to be publishing my thoughts about the world online for selfsame world to see. Secondly, I should be writing fiction, not real life stuff. I'm not very good at real life and I suspect I might be allergic to it. Thirdly, I am not a very consistent poster/writer/journal keeper, and I won't be surprised if months pass between blog updates. But we shall see. Fourth(ly), I am somewhat technologically illiterate. I learn about computers by trial and error, even if the error sometimes causes the computer to gag a little. Blogging is new, unexplored territory, so I expect I shall have a few dead ends, speed bumps, and off-road adventures. As long as I don't go flying off a cliff.

So why am I here? I guess it's a social experiment. Plus, a lot of people that I know and love now have blogs, and through them, I have defined it as a rather chic and sophisticated thing to do. So despite my misgivings, I have decided to join the blogging community. Because, you know, I want to be chic and sophisticated. And of course, there is the thrill of publishing your thoughts about the world for selfsame world to see.

If there is some kind of etiquette to be followed, this is the point in which I am now supposed to tell you about myself. So, here goes.

I am an undergrad student at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. Yes, I am a Mormon, or, if you like official names, I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I am majoring in English, because it is my mother tongue and there isn't anything I object to or dread studying about it. I work at the library, which is awesome because it has books in it. I dearly love books. There is a long list of favorites which I shall have to post elsewhere. I also love music. Any kind of music, as long as it doesn't listen like aggravated assault on my ears. I especially love soundtracks, so correspondingly, I love movies with good soundtracks. More about that later. I am not athletic in any sense of the word, so despite being 5'12" tall, I DO NOT play basketball, thanks. I can endure hiking, which seems to be Utah's national sport, but I do not enjoy it very much. I absolutely hate being rushed. I am cautious by nature, but you can probably already tell that. I don't like killing little spiders. I have a rather awesome family consisting of parents, four younger siblings, and a cat. My younger sister is actually my best friend, even though I have other friends who are wonderful also, such as my five blessedly amazing roommates. I also have a whole slew of extended family that I can't keep straight, but it's nice to know that I'm related to a lot of people. All these folks will probably pop up later. I occasionally talk to inanimate objects and even give them names. I like eating more than cooking. I am a hopeless Star Wars fan. I always have a plan, and I like it when I can stick to my plan. My favorite colors are yellow and blue. I have lived in the country of Japan twice. I enjoy it when people are witty, clever and creative. I love kids, mostly because I can't get away from them and you HAVE to love 'em. I enjoy dressing up, probably a by-product of my extensive drama experience. This is probably why I also love Halloween just as much as Christmas. Pie is my favorite food, hands down. My eyes are blue, but my hair can't decide what color it wants to be anymore. Let's go with dark blonde. I am decidedly single and don't think it's a disease that needs to be cured immediately. I'm going to school on a PELL grant, which gives me one reason to like our government. I think that people are mostly good, and when they're not good it's usually closely linked with stupidity, bless their hearts. I believe I have a great and grand purpose in life, even though what I've mostly got to recommend me is potential and nothing more. I have a geranium companion named Naomi. I don't date fish. I appreciate wise sayings. I play no musical instruments, much to my regret, but I do sing a lot, and I'm not even tone deaf. I often impulsively wish I had wings, or white hair. Or both. I like my orange juice with pulp in it because it's more substantial. I can quote movies after only seeing them once. I create elaborate imaginary games which I play with my sister. I like it when doors are opened for me. I'm a homebody through and through. I like the LEGO video games best of all. I find the concept of money extremely odd, but enjoy payday anyway. I also wonder why time goes faster as you get older, and wish it would stop doing that. Time should be adjustable, that's what I think. I hate whining, although complaining is sometimes acceptable. If I don't know very much about something, I reserve judgement. If I do know about something, though, I can be very long-winded. Kind of like this.

That is me, in a not-so-tiny nutshell. And this, as previously stated, is my social experiment of a blog. It is called "Divine Chaos" after a saying used by my grandmother to describe the conditions surrounding a family reunion. It is an oxymoron that, I think, describes life pretty well. So I stole it for titular purposes, although it should be copyrighted. Grandma probably won't mind, though.