Right, so I mentioned that I had joined NaNoWriMo the other day. The more I think about it, the more I believe that there is no way I can possibly get this done this year. I have papers out the wahzoo and I have Thanksgiving vacation on Chincoteague Island, VA. Whether I'll have internet at that point, I don't know, but I know that I won't have time to write 2,000 words a day during my vacation. I mean, I'll try it, but I honestly don't think that it will happen.
So I've decided I'll at least keep myself writing in a second way with NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month. Why this month should be different from all other months, I don't know, but I think that having two different types of impetus to keep writing.
Or maybe I'm just a serial website joiner. Hey, could be.
K.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
What You Can Do
While puttering around my traditional blogosphere route, I came upon yesterday's post by Irina over at The IgNoble Experiment. Irina muses a little over the war and mentions that a fellow blogger, The Bow-Tied Blogger's Thomas, was now in Iraq. One of her commenters mentioned that it was all very well to say "Support the troops," but what can we specifically do? That got me thinking, so I've been searching a little while for ways to show your support, not for the war itself, but the troops.
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am firmly undecided on anything and everything. Both sides of the congressional aisle anger me almost everyday and I have within drawn from politics in general. However, my views on the war are pretty set. My goal here is not to sway anyone in any direction. It is my opinion that the troops should not suffer the anger we direct at our government. As I said on Irina's blog, you cannot blame the cogs for the mistakes of the machinist. All I want to do it to bring some options to your attention so you can make your own decisions on how you wish to show your support.
Soldiers' Angels- This organization sends letters and packages to soldiers overseas, most of whom don't have anyone to write to them. If you have the funds, you can adopt a soldier with the understanding that you will send him/her a letter per week and at least one care package per month. I particularly like this organization because, when I was a camper, I adored letters and packages. It made me feel like someone was thinking about me. I can't imagine what a letter must mean to a kid so far from home.
Injured Marine Semper Fi Fund- Donating money to this charity will provide financial assistance to marines and sailors suffering from injuries or life-threatening illnesses. Money will also go to help pay for specialized equipment, such as handicap vans and modifications to homes.
AnySoldier.com- This is much like Soldiers' Angels, but without the commitment. The organizations have contacts within the army who distribute packages and letters to those who don't receive mail. There is also AnyMarine.com, AnySailor.com, AnyAirman.com, and AnyCoastGuard.com.
National Military Family Association- With a monetary gift to the NMFA, you can send a child of a deployed soldier to camp, help soldiers' spouses get scholarships for college, or many other forms of assistance. The NMFA can apparently also use volunteers to work at the headquarters. So if you have the time and money, this is a worthy cause.
The Fisher House™ Program- This organization provides comfortable homes near military and VA hospitals so that family can always be nearby to a person in need.
Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund- Money donated to this organization will go to support the families of fallen soldiers. The money recently went to a state-of-the-art medical center in Texas.
Jewish War Veterans of the United States- JWV is running the SOS Programs, which sends care packages to Jewish servicemen and servicewomen . The packages are distributed by the chaplain attached to the unit.
Alright, there are a bunch of charities to show your support for our troops overseas and at home. Please, if you have any other charities that you'd like me to mention, leave a comment and I will post it.
K.
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am firmly undecided on anything and everything. Both sides of the congressional aisle anger me almost everyday and I have within drawn from politics in general. However, my views on the war are pretty set. My goal here is not to sway anyone in any direction. It is my opinion that the troops should not suffer the anger we direct at our government. As I said on Irina's blog, you cannot blame the cogs for the mistakes of the machinist. All I want to do it to bring some options to your attention so you can make your own decisions on how you wish to show your support.
Soldiers' Angels- This organization sends letters and packages to soldiers overseas, most of whom don't have anyone to write to them. If you have the funds, you can adopt a soldier with the understanding that you will send him/her a letter per week and at least one care package per month. I particularly like this organization because, when I was a camper, I adored letters and packages. It made me feel like someone was thinking about me. I can't imagine what a letter must mean to a kid so far from home.
Injured Marine Semper Fi Fund- Donating money to this charity will provide financial assistance to marines and sailors suffering from injuries or life-threatening illnesses. Money will also go to help pay for specialized equipment, such as handicap vans and modifications to homes.
AnySoldier.com- This is much like Soldiers' Angels, but without the commitment. The organizations have contacts within the army who distribute packages and letters to those who don't receive mail. There is also AnyMarine.com, AnySailor.com, AnyAirman.com, and AnyCoastGuard.com.
National Military Family Association- With a monetary gift to the NMFA, you can send a child of a deployed soldier to camp, help soldiers' spouses get scholarships for college, or many other forms of assistance. The NMFA can apparently also use volunteers to work at the headquarters. So if you have the time and money, this is a worthy cause.
The Fisher House™ Program- This organization provides comfortable homes near military and VA hospitals so that family can always be nearby to a person in need.
Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund- Money donated to this organization will go to support the families of fallen soldiers. The money recently went to a state-of-the-art medical center in Texas.
Jewish War Veterans of the United States- JWV is running the SOS Programs, which sends care packages to Jewish servicemen and servicewomen . The packages are distributed by the chaplain attached to the unit.
Alright, there are a bunch of charities to show your support for our troops overseas and at home. Please, if you have any other charities that you'd like me to mention, leave a comment and I will post it.
K.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Haveil Havalim #138
It's been a while since I've linked to this, but here is that world famous Haveil Havalim back on this blog again.
Huzzah!
K.
Huzzah!
K.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Proving My Point From the Last Post
While I'm a real fan of this video, the some 1,000 comments to it make me seethe. And really, it is from both sides. Read them, if you have the stomach for it.
The only way to have peace is to listen, which I don't think has been done on a large scale. If listening doesn't work, then I don't know what will.
Damn, now I need a hug.
K.
The only way to have peace is to listen, which I don't think has been done on a large scale. If listening doesn't work, then I don't know what will.
Damn, now I need a hug.
K.
|
My Demonic Quarterly Review
[It's been a couple of weeks since I was on the receiving end of two anti-Jewish slurs, targeted at my aversion to spend from my dwindling coffers. From friends, I'll take it; from nearly-complete strangers, expect a quite rage. And thus I began to formulate a satire based on what some people must think my life is like. Here it is. Enjoy.]
I arrived home from class the other day just in time for my quarterly progress review. This was made clear by the whiff of sulfur that charged out of my apartment when I opened the door, the eerie music dominated by minor chords thundering out of my stereo, and the small demon perched on my kitchen counter, fussing with my toaster.
"Oh, is it that time already?" I asked, dropping my bookbag and flipping off the radio (66.6 YHELL FM, if you're inclined to listen). The demon looked up.
"It will be if this toast ever makes an appearance." He determinedly jammed a knife into the slits, absorbing the corresponding electric shock with a frisson of pleasure.
I peered over his thin shoulders. "You people made the thing."
"Doesn't mean that we can figure it out, though, does it?" The demon threw the knife down with a sigh and sprang from the countertop. "Look, I have very little time and quite a bit of paperwork, so I think we should get started." With that, he clamored on to my futon, poofing a pair of reading glasses on to his crooked nose and a legal pad into his claws.
"Sure."
"And take off that ridiculous disguise." He glanced down over his glasses with distaste. "It gives me the creeps."
"Alright." Shrugging, I slid my thumbs beneath my blonde wig, letting my springy locks jut forth, giving me that surprised, wind-tunnel look. The demon watched as I carefully pulled my blue contacts from my eyes, the cute nose prosthetic from my own hooked proboscis, and set them both in their corresponding cases.
"Is all that absolutely necessary?"
"To blend in, sure." I fluffed up my mousy hair then went to stand in front of him. "Well."
"Well," he repeated. "Well, I suppose we should start this off officially." He stood up on the couch, bring him up about to my clavicle. We performed the traditional salute: a few hip-swivels, some lyrics from a death metal song, that sort of thing. Then we both sat and got down to work.
"Look, I must be frank, here," the demon began. "My lord Satan (blessed be He) has been very displeased by the work you people have been doing up here."
"Has He?"
"Indeed. He figures that with so many of you infiltrating high levels of government and economics and entertainment, something must be happening." He consulted his notes. "And, to a certain extent, it has. Those of you in the White House have been doing a marvelous job. And He does have an entire Middle Eastern nation doing His bidding as we speak. But there are some of you who just aren't pulling your weight." The demon gave me a pointed look.
"I've been doing some things."
"'Some things.' 'Some things' is not enough to keep you on the payroll."
"I've always defended Israel."
"Not good enough," the demon said.
"Just the other week, two people accused me of being cheap. I'm keeping up the stereotype."
"Are you?" He lifted an eyebrow. "I know you've been passing pennies on the street, yet you haven't picked them up. Do you call that 'keeping up the stereotype?'"
"I suppose not."
"And," his reedy voice rose an octave, "are you aware that there are currently two dimes just sitting on your bathroom floor?"
"Yes." I frowned. "But I thought that if it were in my bathroom, it would--"
"No! Invest them in high interest accounts! Did you learn nothing during orientation?" I cast my gaze downward. He continued. "Look, I have a list here of what your ancestors used to do in His great name. Have you poisoned a well recently?"
"No."
"Kidnapped any Christian babies?"
"No."
"But you've had chances, haven't you"
"Yeah."
"Hmm." His skin tone darkened to a deep scarlet. "Used the blood of the righteous to make Passover matzahs?"
"No. I went to Israel for Passover, though? Doesn't that count for anything?"
"Fine, I'll put a check there. Have you desecrated any holy water?"
"No."
"Spat on communion wafers?"
"No."
"Given the middle finger to any sort of Christian establishment?"
I started. "My ancestors used to do that?"
"No, but I thought I would throw you a bone." The demon raised his eyebrow again. "Well, have you?"
"Not strictly Christian institutions, no."
"Lent any money and charged a outrageous interest on it?"
"No." The demon threw down his pad in disgust.
"Do you see what I'm talking about? People like you are mooching off the Demonic Funds Department and sending Hell into a recessionary spiral! You should be out there, doing what you all were bred for, instead of spending our hard-earned money on trinkets like fake noses." He waved a claw in the direction of my discarded disguise. "Plenty of your people use their actual noses and still manage to do their jobs!"
I could feel the tears welling up and knew that my nose was being to run. I sniffed hard.
"Oh, by Lucifer's leathery wings, don't cry! Crying never helps!" The demon glared impotently as I began to sob in great, mucousy bursts. "Look, just stop-- I'll give you a satisfactory mark for this quarter if you'll just quit it." He scribbled something down on his pad, then poofed it out of existence. "Just try to do better. Kick a kid wearing a cross, trip a nun, steal money from a church's tithing basket. Anything! I don't want to have to fire you. You'll not find a better gig than this and the health benefits are just awful when you start playing for the other team."
I gave him a watery smile, nodded, and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands. The demon sighed with relief.
"There, that's better." He stood up, struggling for balance as his hooves sunk into my futon. "I'll see you next quarter. And I'll probably not be so lenient. I'm going to have Him on my tail as it is." He gave me an abbreviated salute, then, in a puff of sulfur, disappeared.
I sat for a moment, then got up, grabbing my industrial-strength Febreeze. A great grin broke out over my face, banishing my tears back into their ducts to be used for labor. Good ol' demons and their weakness for crying women.
Who said I wasn't evil?
I arrived home from class the other day just in time for my quarterly progress review. This was made clear by the whiff of sulfur that charged out of my apartment when I opened the door, the eerie music dominated by minor chords thundering out of my stereo, and the small demon perched on my kitchen counter, fussing with my toaster.
"Oh, is it that time already?" I asked, dropping my bookbag and flipping off the radio (66.6 YHELL FM, if you're inclined to listen). The demon looked up.
"It will be if this toast ever makes an appearance." He determinedly jammed a knife into the slits, absorbing the corresponding electric shock with a frisson of pleasure.
I peered over his thin shoulders. "You people made the thing."
"Doesn't mean that we can figure it out, though, does it?" The demon threw the knife down with a sigh and sprang from the countertop. "Look, I have very little time and quite a bit of paperwork, so I think we should get started." With that, he clamored on to my futon, poofing a pair of reading glasses on to his crooked nose and a legal pad into his claws.
"Sure."
"And take off that ridiculous disguise." He glanced down over his glasses with distaste. "It gives me the creeps."
"Alright." Shrugging, I slid my thumbs beneath my blonde wig, letting my springy locks jut forth, giving me that surprised, wind-tunnel look. The demon watched as I carefully pulled my blue contacts from my eyes, the cute nose prosthetic from my own hooked proboscis, and set them both in their corresponding cases.
"Is all that absolutely necessary?"
"To blend in, sure." I fluffed up my mousy hair then went to stand in front of him. "Well."
"Well," he repeated. "Well, I suppose we should start this off officially." He stood up on the couch, bring him up about to my clavicle. We performed the traditional salute: a few hip-swivels, some lyrics from a death metal song, that sort of thing. Then we both sat and got down to work.
"Look, I must be frank, here," the demon began. "My lord Satan (blessed be He) has been very displeased by the work you people have been doing up here."
"Has He?"
"Indeed. He figures that with so many of you infiltrating high levels of government and economics and entertainment, something must be happening." He consulted his notes. "And, to a certain extent, it has. Those of you in the White House have been doing a marvelous job. And He does have an entire Middle Eastern nation doing His bidding as we speak. But there are some of you who just aren't pulling your weight." The demon gave me a pointed look.
"I've been doing some things."
"'Some things.' 'Some things' is not enough to keep you on the payroll."
"I've always defended Israel."
"Not good enough," the demon said.
"Just the other week, two people accused me of being cheap. I'm keeping up the stereotype."
"Are you?" He lifted an eyebrow. "I know you've been passing pennies on the street, yet you haven't picked them up. Do you call that 'keeping up the stereotype?'"
"I suppose not."
"And," his reedy voice rose an octave, "are you aware that there are currently two dimes just sitting on your bathroom floor?"
"Yes." I frowned. "But I thought that if it were in my bathroom, it would--"
"No! Invest them in high interest accounts! Did you learn nothing during orientation?" I cast my gaze downward. He continued. "Look, I have a list here of what your ancestors used to do in His great name. Have you poisoned a well recently?"
"No."
"Kidnapped any Christian babies?"
"No."
"But you've had chances, haven't you"
"Yeah."
"Hmm." His skin tone darkened to a deep scarlet. "Used the blood of the righteous to make Passover matzahs?"
"No. I went to Israel for Passover, though? Doesn't that count for anything?"
"Fine, I'll put a check there. Have you desecrated any holy water?"
"No."
"Spat on communion wafers?"
"No."
"Given the middle finger to any sort of Christian establishment?"
I started. "My ancestors used to do that?"
"No, but I thought I would throw you a bone." The demon raised his eyebrow again. "Well, have you?"
"Not strictly Christian institutions, no."
"Lent any money and charged a outrageous interest on it?"
"No." The demon threw down his pad in disgust.
"Do you see what I'm talking about? People like you are mooching off the Demonic Funds Department and sending Hell into a recessionary spiral! You should be out there, doing what you all were bred for, instead of spending our hard-earned money on trinkets like fake noses." He waved a claw in the direction of my discarded disguise. "Plenty of your people use their actual noses and still manage to do their jobs!"
I could feel the tears welling up and knew that my nose was being to run. I sniffed hard.
"Oh, by Lucifer's leathery wings, don't cry! Crying never helps!" The demon glared impotently as I began to sob in great, mucousy bursts. "Look, just stop-- I'll give you a satisfactory mark for this quarter if you'll just quit it." He scribbled something down on his pad, then poofed it out of existence. "Just try to do better. Kick a kid wearing a cross, trip a nun, steal money from a church's tithing basket. Anything! I don't want to have to fire you. You'll not find a better gig than this and the health benefits are just awful when you start playing for the other team."
I gave him a watery smile, nodded, and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands. The demon sighed with relief.
"There, that's better." He stood up, struggling for balance as his hooves sunk into my futon. "I'll see you next quarter. And I'll probably not be so lenient. I'm going to have Him on my tail as it is." He gave me an abbreviated salute, then, in a puff of sulfur, disappeared.
I sat for a moment, then got up, grabbing my industrial-strength Febreeze. A great grin broke out over my face, banishing my tears back into their ducts to be used for labor. Good ol' demons and their weakness for crying women.
Who said I wasn't evil?
Monday, October 22, 2007
NaNoWri Oh No!
Seriously, what possessed me to sign up for this when I clearly do not have any time? Or idea. Or plot.I barely have enough time to study, work, do anything in this blog, or eat, much less write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Oh well, I supposed that the NaNoWriMo people aren't going to come after me with torches and pitchforks if I'm unable to finish.
But maybe they'll haunt my dreams. :(
K.
Powered by ScribeFire.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Just Say No to Braveheart
Lost Worlds - The History Channel - History.com
Instead of watching my usual brain-rotting shows, I flipped to the always awesome History Channel. A flash of the familiar Stirling Castle, the sound of melodic Scottish accents, and I'm suddenly sitting flush to the TV, happily identifying landmarks of the city I lived in for five months. It would be harder to find a happier person at that point.
Until I saw the title of the episode...
"The Scotland of Braveheart"
"Oooooh, no," I breathed, pressing the heels of my hands to my mouth. "No, History Channel, no!"
But yes. Braveheart. Referring to William Wallace. Dear G-d.
For anyone that has ever spent time in Scotland, you know that only peddlers of tourist trinkets relate the Mel Gibson William Wallace to the true William Wallace. You'll find shot glasses with a be-kilted and be-woaded Wallace, which only those who came to Scotland after seeing "Braveheart" buy. As any tour guide or historian will tell you, Wallace was actually a lowland Scot (represent, woot!)-- an aristocrat, in fact-- who probably never wore a kilt a day in his life.
And he was not called Braveheart.
In fact, it's said that the term arose in reference to Robert the Bruce. It was Bruce's dream to go on crusade, but he never got the chance. Instead, after his death, his heart was cut out of his body and taken on the next trip south to the Holy Lady. It is said that during one pitched battle, the man carrying Bruce's heart threw it into the midst of the fight, inspiring the men to victory. It was then that Robert the Bruce was referred to as "Braveheart."
Not Wallace. Bruce.
So it's really getting on my nerves that this show constantly refers to Wallace by that erroneous name. Not only that, they showed the wooden sculpture that sits in front of the Wallace Memorial. The artist gave Wallace the face of Mel Gibson and the kilt and mace that appeared in the movie. Stirling residents were not pleased and someone even went so far as to knock off the statue's nose. The statue now sits behind a ten-foot high fence. "Frrrrreedom" indeed.
All of this rage is not to say that I have a lack of respect for Wallace. I actually am rather impressed by his fighting prowess and height (judging by his sword, people believe that he must have been about 6 foot something, huge for that time period... Gibson is a wee person compared to him). However, I am realistic. I know that he was no highland hero, I know that he wasn't that much of a strategist (Andrew Murray, anyone?), and I certainly know that "Braveheart" is merely entertainment and nothing more.
But seriously, History Channel? Stop calling him Braveheart. I mean it.
K.
Accidentally X-posted to The Write Links.
Instead of watching my usual brain-rotting shows, I flipped to the always awesome History Channel. A flash of the familiar Stirling Castle, the sound of melodic Scottish accents, and I'm suddenly sitting flush to the TV, happily identifying landmarks of the city I lived in for five months. It would be harder to find a happier person at that point.
Until I saw the title of the episode...
"The Scotland of Braveheart"
"Oooooh, no," I breathed, pressing the heels of my hands to my mouth. "No, History Channel, no!"
But yes. Braveheart. Referring to William Wallace. Dear G-d.
For anyone that has ever spent time in Scotland, you know that only peddlers of tourist trinkets relate the Mel Gibson William Wallace to the true William Wallace. You'll find shot glasses with a be-kilted and be-woaded Wallace, which only those who came to Scotland after seeing "Braveheart" buy. As any tour guide or historian will tell you, Wallace was actually a lowland Scot (represent, woot!)-- an aristocrat, in fact-- who probably never wore a kilt a day in his life.
And he was not called Braveheart.
In fact, it's said that the term arose in reference to Robert the Bruce. It was Bruce's dream to go on crusade, but he never got the chance. Instead, after his death, his heart was cut out of his body and taken on the next trip south to the Holy Lady. It is said that during one pitched battle, the man carrying Bruce's heart threw it into the midst of the fight, inspiring the men to victory. It was then that Robert the Bruce was referred to as "Braveheart."
Not Wallace. Bruce.
So it's really getting on my nerves that this show constantly refers to Wallace by that erroneous name. Not only that, they showed the wooden sculpture that sits in front of the Wallace Memorial. The artist gave Wallace the face of Mel Gibson and the kilt and mace that appeared in the movie. Stirling residents were not pleased and someone even went so far as to knock off the statue's nose. The statue now sits behind a ten-foot high fence. "Frrrrreedom" indeed.
All of this rage is not to say that I have a lack of respect for Wallace. I actually am rather impressed by his fighting prowess and height (judging by his sword, people believe that he must have been about 6 foot something, huge for that time period... Gibson is a wee person compared to him). However, I am realistic. I know that he was no highland hero, I know that he wasn't that much of a strategist (Andrew Murray, anyone?), and I certainly know that "Braveheart" is merely entertainment and nothing more.
But seriously, History Channel? Stop calling him Braveheart. I mean it.
K.
Accidentally X-posted to The Write Links.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Catching Up
Having become jaded and impatient with news, news media, current events, 24-hour news channels, and the like, I have spent several weeks away from anything that might possibly be happening outside of my apartment and my university campus. Really, the only news that I have gotten from the world is that the Phillies got into the play-offs, but that's only because I live near Philly. That, and that the Phillies were declared the losingest team of all time at the beginning of the season. It's alot to live down.
It seems, though, that I have been losing track of things. I missed the whole Myanmar/Burma thing, the Jena 6 issue, and the incident with independent contractors in Iraq. It's very unlike me. If you had spoken to me freshman through junior years of college, I could have conversed with anyone about anything. Renaissance woman, you know. Right now, all I can tell you is that Britney Spears lost the custody of her children. Not really world-changing news.
So I decided to putter around the Internet for a little to catch up on the news. This is the stuff that I find interesting:
A scandalous character takes his final bow - CNN.com
So this is the end of the famous Nathan Zuckerman, who has acted as Philip Roth's literary counterpart for 25 years. :(
Oh well, perhaps it will lead to more strange plots in the future.
US senators slam lack of Arab support for Mideast conference
You're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't. This bears watching, I think.
K.
It seems, though, that I have been losing track of things. I missed the whole Myanmar/Burma thing, the Jena 6 issue, and the incident with independent contractors in Iraq. It's very unlike me. If you had spoken to me freshman through junior years of college, I could have conversed with anyone about anything. Renaissance woman, you know. Right now, all I can tell you is that Britney Spears lost the custody of her children. Not really world-changing news.
So I decided to putter around the Internet for a little to catch up on the news. This is the stuff that I find interesting:
A scandalous character takes his final bow - CNN.com
So this is the end of the famous Nathan Zuckerman, who has acted as Philip Roth's literary counterpart for 25 years. :(
Oh well, perhaps it will lead to more strange plots in the future.
US senators slam lack of Arab support for Mideast conference
You're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't. This bears watching, I think.
K.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
