Twilight

Yes, I read it - after much pressure. Now I'm posting my thoughts here where I doubt those who recommended the book so highly will find them. To them I may present my opinions more tactfully:)

Overall, I think it's simply drivel, and not worth a long post here. There are thousands of good books to read that will provide more satisfying romance and suspense in a healthier atmosphere. However, there is one distinction I'd like to make.

Edward is widely esteemed, even adored by young women for possessing "unearthly self-control". He does, in one respect. He can control his desire for Bella's blood, but this should not be confused with his self-discipline where Bella herself is concerned. Their relationship is marked by a stereotypical impetuosity and ignorance that can only harm those involved. Ladies, before placing him on a par with Edward Ferrars, take a caveat from the character of his other namesake, Edward Rochester, noteworthy for his weaknesses.

Something someone fowarded to me

From Magnificat magazine. It struck me as very Chestertonian, and an excellent reminder of what Advent allows time for.

WHY THE FATHER REVEALS THINGS TO THE CHILDLIKE
It becomes very evident why our Lord tells us to become as little children (MT 18:3) and what is involved in it; we can see how it is related to the theme of 'vacate', taking a break from being God, to let Him be God. Little children do not have piles of important correspondence on their desks, nor rows of shiny telephones to handle all their important business transactions. Becoming as a little child means unlearning the false solemnity of adolescence, unlearning the false maturity and self-importance of ideology and Puritanism. It means forgetting to run the world, forgetting to run one another's lives. It means forgetting even to run our own lives. This sheds light also on Saint Paul's words that we must not be conformed to this world. If we would learn the true sense in which God is a God of order, we must first unlearn that kind of order which we try to impose on the world and on ourselves and on one another, simply to subject everything to ourselves, to protect us from the wideness and freedom of God's world. The mystics leave us in no doubt that any real growth in prayer, in communion with God, leads us into the desert, into the place of wild wide wastes, where we can get no bearings. We must come out from behind the security of our homemade identity, our self-appointed responsibilities, into the spaciousness of God's world, a spaciousness whose dimensions and orientation we shall only gradually learn to recognize as freedom, within which we shall only gradually discover our true responsibilities.
Fr. Simon Tugwell, O.P.

Oh. Really?

Hat-tip Love2Learn Mom

You Are Scrabble

You are incredibly clever and witty. You can talk your way out of (and into) situations easily. You are an excellent decision maker. You are good at weighing the options in front of you. You're the type of person who can make something out of nothing. You are very resourceful. You know a lot of things. Most importantly, you know when people are wrong - even when they won't admit it.

What Board Game Are You?

The Obvious! Halleluia!

I have just rediscovered a glorious truth - let it be known throughout all realms and passed on to all generations that five times twelve equals sixty!

Hurrah! I can post!

Rarely before have I felt even the urge to post, yet now, after so long of having no Blogger ID, I understand and appreciate the ability to afflict and enlighten (ha!) the world with my musings.

Perhaps now I will blog something about WYD SYD 08...

Another cake

Our Teen Catechism group just met for the last time this schoolyear. We've been reading and discussing Jesus of Nazareth, by Pope Benedict XVI, and after over a year of work, finished the book! I spent another afternoon in the kitchen in honor of this momentous occasion, and built this sweetly unhealthy but singularly appropriate confection.

The lappets and cross are white chocolate, the rest cake and buttercream. Not having a patented papal-tiara baking pan, I gave it a slightly unconventional shape, but you get the idea:)

'Nother one!

Found another quiz! Admittedly, I never post anything else lately, but I have found quality ones. Here's the newest




This test brought to you by Blakeney Manor.

Find out:Which Scarlet Pimpernel character are you?


Pray do not misunderstand - I don't dislike sentimentality in the least - nor does Sir Percy! Mushiness, however, ought indeed to be dispensed with... Why can't all romance be Austen-ified?

Narcissism

Little Brother B celebrated his 9th birthday this past month, and being 97% cowboy*, requested a "rattlesnake cake" and a "Red Ryder BB gun!" As the culinary crackpot of the family, I enthusiastically undertook the challenge. Two hours of complete abandon and concentration produced this masterpiece, of which I am undeniably vain.


* He is also 1% each Angel, Genius, and Fury

I've been tagged

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

"I know you too well to suppose you would allow such a thing to pass you."

"I burnt it, for fear that even a fragment should remain; for that letter must have effected your condemnation."

"And the destruction of your future prospects," replied Noirtier; "yes, I can easily comprehend that."

~ The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexander Dumas

Five people? besides the Chesterteens? Uh...

I say!

Take the Quiz here!

Almost Competely True

hee hee

Chestertrance

Although I had this dream a few days ago, it's stuck in my mind and it's so Chestertonianly accurate that I must record it.

It began with a down escalator, at top of which stood Algernon, my little sister, and me. Algernon, in loco Father Brown, was explaining, "Men may keep a sort of level of good, but no man has ever been able to keep on one level of evil. That road goes down and down. The kind man drinks and turns cruel..." as we all gazed at the escalator, from the bottom of which was echoing "the litany of the dark angels" (I had just watched The dagger with wings). After that, things got a little confused, but someone ended up dying, possibly me. Next thing I knew, however, Coyote was getting married, and Ria and I went shopping for a dress with her.

Notice, that the only friends of mine who made it into the dream were Chesterteens.

Back to the wedding dress. We went to this one department store, that looked pretty ordinary, but the owner, who was showing us around, unnerved me. His glasses caught the artificial light at absolutely any angle, so that wherever he turned his eyes were obscured. Equally alarming were the dresses he showed us. Ria and Coyote were all raptures, and told me I was being most unsociable. What they couldn't be brought to see was that something on every dress was the wrong shape. I didn't know I could imagine up such ugly frills, severe swirls, or ungraceful bows. the majority of each dress was well made, artistic, and elegant. But one detail, usually in the trimming was downright ugly, an accessory so small that it was not immediately visible, but wrong enough that it disturbed the overall image.

I kept pointing out these crooked minutiae, but was asked in hurt tones if I didn't think it was a profoundly beautiful dress. If all I objected to was the lace, which Coyote, the bride, was fine with, I ought to keep my criticism to myself. My in-real-life-brilliant friends didn't get my point - a point I stressed more and more as we went deeper into the store, which narrowed like an Egyptian temple.

As the wall to our left began to bend at the top, just a few inches below its meeting with the ceiling, growing increasingly into the shape of Father Brown's telltale piece of paper, I grew frantic. Somehow my carefree, giddy friends must be put on their guard.

I pointed to the bend in the ceiling, horrifically evident now, and drew the parallel of Chesterton's story in vivid terms for two confused-looking young ladies. After staring at me in silence for a few moments, they asked sweetly, "Don't you feel well?"

In rage, incredulity and despair I turned away. My Chestertonian friends, the girls I love and look up to, thought I was insane, and were walking blindly into -

Well, what? Was there really something deplorable waiting beyond the next display? Surely. Was I insane? Or was the owner? Were my friends? I settled it thusly: I was, at least partially, and therefore by far the most logical of the party. That heady and dismal conclusion being reached, I faced my friends and my responsibility once again.

I received a bit of a shock. There, chatting pleasantly with the girls, and slowly drawing them back out towards the light, was a person who fit the exact description of Gabriel Gale, fictitious patron of lunatics. Gratefully commending my friends to his expert management, I cast one despising glance at the owner, whose glassy eyes wouldn't meet mine, and whose Mona Lisa smile could be defined (by me) as nothing but nefarious and hateful. With this leer hovering before me, I woke up.

two-way one-way conversations

Our parish is having a Church mission, and last night there was a 'just for teens' talk, which I attended. The speaker was engaging, hilarious, creative, and broke the ice almost instantly. Many present, I feel, could have handled more substance than was offered, but never mind. One question he gave us was "do you have conversations with yourself, you know, two-way-one-way conversations?" YES. And I think I'll record one of them, taking place the same night. We had been divided up into small groups, and were asked to thoughtfully discuss and answer "why modern teens don't get into the God-Faith-Church thing". One guy said "drugs. alcohol." From the rest of the guys came grunts of assent and from the girls chirps of "totally agree!" with valley-girl gestures and batting eyelashes.

Emotional, in the moment me thinks: GROW UP! Girls, that appendage you just flipped and cocked coquettishly was intended for a much higher purpose! USE IT TO CONTEMPLATE THE QUESTION!

Retrospective, Objective me thinks: Relax. You snot! They are self-conscious and tense, a state of mind that doesn't lend itself to deep thought, especially to people not often exposed to perspicacity.

I say: don't you think there's more to it than that? Drugs and alcohol are just temptations, that people like us don't often encounter until they are teens. I think it's the religious examples parents set that make a bigger difference.

"Whl*, I think that like, the parents themselves can't like, make a big difference. Cuz seriously, no one like, listens ta their parents anymore. They think it's like, not cool." came in gutteral tones from a slouching girl picking at her nails. More grunts. Copious, simultaneous, "yeah. OH MY GOSH, my friend, like..."'s from the girls.

E M: Congratulations! you actually succeeded in making a point! Too bad it was unintentionally. Now just imagine you have a spine, and I'd like you.

R O M: Just imagine how she feels at the moment - just the way she looks, uncomfortable, awkward. Besides, at least she's not behaving like the others. Be charitable.

E M: But it's thoroughly bogus! Just look at them! A gaggle of gossipy girls and a lump of inertial guys, unwilling to have or form their own opinions. No wonder teens don't get into the "God-Faith-Church" thing, if they're too lazy even to find out why they don't when they don't!

ROM: You yourself are scarcely being logical. That rant my have let off steam, but you've begun mixing your terms. Besides, it's time to take your seat and listen to the other groups.

EM: Hee hee! I rather suspect I'll be laughing up my sleeve at some attempts, judging from my own group!

ROM: Just mind it stays entirely up your sleeve.

It didn't, I'm ashamed to say.


*Well. The ludicrous spelling is an attempt to illustrate the dialect adopted by this character, as are the 'likes' which came only too infrequently in my rendition.

Reading Quiz

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Literate Good Citizen
Book Snob
Non-Reader
Fad Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Big Surprise!

Dramatic Ditzing

After last autumn's theatrical catastrophes involving unwilling thespians, puerile, putrid script, no rehearsal time, and that little in a hectic, boisterous atmosphere, myself and two others who had been victim to these depressing circumstances decided there was only one thing to do -form our own troupe. Partly at my suggestion as pertaining to our personalities, we gave it the eloquent, sophisticated name Totus Mundus Agit Historionem - before it was even formulated. We thought to save ourselves the chaos and panic of last-minute planning, so we began recruiting in May. Alas, what with being perpetually absented from each other all summer, and other activities obtruding themselves on our schedules, we were unable to fix a day until August, by which time many, many others had conflicts. In spite of this we have a group of fifteen energetic and talented Dramatis Personae, and a script portraying Alice in Wonderland with undiluted satire and vocabulary.

Everything is going well and we've been having great fun. For example, yesterday we were trying to synchronize the 'ALL' lines during the croquet scene and the trial. We sat solemnly (or otherwise) in a circle, one person would say the line, then repeat it. On the repeat the next person joined them, matching there expression and meter. So it went, around the whole circle. It can easily be imagined that by the time everyone was chanting together, it became most rhythmic, and how could we keep from dancing? A few even improvised descants and percussion. From here it was but one step to the fact that we must do a musical. We got halfway through casting before coming back down to earth.

Memoranda

What I've been up to this summer:

• Organizing a theater company
• volunteering at the library and a local historical site
• visiting Margaret's college

This one needs elaboration. On the way, we stopped in Iowa for a baby shower, Sioux Falls Sou' Dakota to meet another homeschooling family, the Badlands, Sturgis, Sou' Dakota, and the Black Hills. Once in Wyoming, the vicinity of the college, we visited Thermopolis, South Pass, Popoagie Falls, Popoagie Sinks, and (naturally) the college itself. Making our way to Colorado by way of Independence Rock, Devil's Gate, and Register Rock, we stopped in Colorado Springs to visit our Aunt and Uncle. There we saw Pike's Peak, Florissant Fossil Beds, two tornadoes, our THIRD hailstorm in two weeks, Garden of the Gods, and went rafting. We thus began our journey home - through Agate Fossil beds, Wind Cave, Mount Rushmore, and once again, the homeschooling family in Sioux Falls.
To continue with my list:

• Reading all the Sherlock Holmes stories
• Counseling for a summer camp
• Going on a mission trip!!!!

Once again, elaboration required. I went with my Church youth group, 32 teens in all. Our mission site was Logan, WV, a diminutive, impoverished town. When finally there, after two days of driving, we split up into two groups, to take on two different tasks; painting a house and running "Kids' Club", a local summer camp for kids who couldn't afford the usual thing. I did Kids' Club. We made friends with some remarkable children, put on Bible story skits, sang at nursing homes, and played 4-square. With the people we met, the experiences we faced, and the friendships we made, it was unforgettable, and the fun goes on.
Came home and:

• Bade a prolonged and pathetic farewell to Margaret, who is contentedly installed in college. (how anyone can be so joyous without their younger sister is a mystery to me)
  
• Spent a week on my Grandparents' farm while Margaret was shuttled out West. A major highlight of this visit was learning to mow the lawn, on a joystick-controlled machine weighing about a ton. I described it in an email to Margaret.
  

"... Seeing Grandma cruising, whipping, barreling, veering etc. in her nifty, handy-dandy pocket-sized lawn mower....Lurching, zig-zagging, plummeting, lashing, etc. myself on that identical vehicle. At best, I was redoubtable. At worst, I was a mortal danger to all living things within a hundred yards, including trees, bushes, flowers, and corn. You might say even to rocks, railroad ties, and the mower itself. But man, I loved it."

• TRIED AND LIKED SUSHI. I am the princess of picky eaters. My palate rejects turkey and all variety of cooked fish. It is therefore a cataclysmic phenomenon that I can enjoy fish uncooked.
• participated in a music camp
• went to Six Flags with my friends from South Dakota
• seized the last few days of summer to morph back into my scholastic self, and catch up on sleep.
  

Some Screwtape Letter Snippets

Written by C. S. Lewis as treatises on the science of Tempting from a senior demon to a junior, I'm finding these so interesting, I can't disengage myself. The main quotes that are haunting me are,

"Ideally, Screwtape's advice to Wormwood should have been balanced by arch-angelical advice to the patient's guardian angel. Without this the picture of human life is lopsided. But who could supply the deficiency? Even if a man - and he would have to be a far better man than I - could scale the spiritual heights required, what "answerable style" could he use? For the style would really be part of the content. Mere advice would be no good; every sentence would have to smell of Heaven....(At bottom, every ideal of style dictates not only how we should say things but what sort of things we may say.)"
~Preface

If such, then, is true of heavenly writing, couldn't the same be said of Satanic writing? How close can a human come to the state of mind of a devil? Logically, it is simpler to fall than to rise, but isn't there a line that can't be safely crossed? I think C. S. Lewis had something of the sort in mind when he wrote,

"Though it was easy to twist one's mind into the diabolical attitude, it was not fun, or not for long. The strain produced a sort of spiritual cramp. The work into which I had to project myself while I spoke through Screwtape was all dust, grit, thirst, and itch. Every trace of Beauty, freshness, and geniality had to be excluded. It almost smothered me before Iwas done. It would have smothered my readers if I had prolonged it. "
~Preface

I didn't read this till I had read the first chapter, and was astonished by the first point made by Uncle Screwtape to Nephew Wormwood, namely that if his (Wormwood's) patient was to be safely brainwashed into materialism, it was not to be because he understood it, and discussed it openly. Reasoning was to be avoided, and vagaries about materialism's "strength, starkness or courageousness," used instead.

"The trouble about argument is that it moves the whole struggle onto the Enemy's own ground. He can argue too; whereas in really practical propaganda of the kind I am suggesting He has been shown for centuries to be greatly the inferior of Our Father Below. By the very act of arguing, you awake the patient's reason; and once it is awake, who can foresee the result? Even if a peculiar train of thought can be twisted so as to end in our favor, you will find that you have been strengthening in your patient the fatal habit of attending to universal issues and withdrawing his attention from the stream of immediate sense experiences....Teach him to call it'real life', and don't let him ask what he means by 'real.'"

I need to stop now, but (hint,hint) Love2learn Mom, I think this would be a succulent discussion book, even though I'm not half done.

Tralala!

Love2Learn Mom, my Latina magistra, has announced our Latin scores!!!!! Congratulations to my classmates Monkey and Beth who received silver medals along with me, and Ria who missed it by only one point!!!!! Ria and I, attempting the Latin II Exam, didn't expect to do so well!!!! I'm vastly relieved.

Fable Fun, sequel

Having a few spare minutes that aren't fit for any other employment, I thought I'd post my Fox and Crow rendition.

Lessons at Leisure

On a genial afternoon in May, in a majestically swaying young maple tree, there resided a nondescript crow, whose ordinary aspect rather marred the poetic atmosphere of the day. Surveying this tableau from the surrounding forest, a bright-eyed fox noted an object yet more out of place; a particle of cheese, residing temptingly in the bird’s mouth. The crow, proudly appraising her cheese, did not observe the fox sauntering forward with convincing nonchalance. Politely interrupting her reverie with an unobtrusive cough, he determined on introducing a topic of conversation.

“Madame,” quoth he, “You make too elegant a picture to refrain from commenting on. In this graceful young tree, surrounded by such gloriously animated countryside, your plumage glinting as though fashioned of onyx, your eyes holding a deep enigmatic luster…” He persisted with this device, fluently fabricating foolishness for the crow, who inflated noticeably with pride. “Indeed,” he continued, “the only element lacking in this paradisiacal scene, the one touch that can complete the atmosphere, is music: one delicate, satisfying melody, as only a magnificent bird such as you can bestow.”

It was enough. The gullible crow, in her ignorant vanity, could not resist; it was either sing or detonate with the conceited delight the fox’s lavish admiration had kindled. Although she tried her best, the one, brief note she gave was exceptionally sour, particularly because it quickly morphed into a scream of disappointment and indignation. Feigning still to be amiable, the fox, who had dexterously snapped up the rapidly descending cheese, intoned, “To be sure, there is nothing in existence as delicate or satisfying as a fragment of Gruyere, though never have I before known it to be defined as a melody.” Complacently chuckling, he strolled blithely away, leaving the crow to ponder this lesson in a rueful sense of injustice.

THE END