DO NOT, under any circumstance, see the movie, "Becoming Jane." It is very bad. Tara and I went on a last minute movie viewing trip last night, and I suggested, much to my remorse, this movie. Granted, I am a bit of a Janeite myself, so I went in with low expections and armed to criticize. Yet, knowing that it was going to be a bit fictionalized, I was willing to just appreciate the movie for what it was. I came out, 2hrs and 15 min. later, apologizing to Tara for suggesting this particular movie and absolutely horrified by what I had just viewed. Here are my thoughts on the matter.

They just need to stop making movies that have anything to do with Jane Austen. Yes, they are witty, fantastic plots. Yes, they illuminate the plight of the 18th century woman. Yes, they are some of literature's greatest romances. However, they have already been transformed into film in the best manner possible. Nothing can top Ang Lee's "Sense and Sensibility," BBC's version of "Pride and Prejudice," "Emma" with Gwyneth Paltrow, and the artsy "Mansfield Park" (same director as "Moulin Rouge" I think). Even though this movie was about Jane Austen's life and not one of her plots, it seemed like a sad attempt to recreate the simple, exquisite beauty and sweeping romantic scenes of the aforementioned masterpieces.
The following are the movie's greatest flaws (in my humble opinion):
1. The humor they chose to emphasize was crass. Austen, although a bit radical for her time, would have been horrified.
2. The romance and its developement was shallow. Shallow, shallow, shallow.
3. There was not enough depth to carry the OVERLY abundant scenes of quiet, picturesque landscape. If a movie has prolonged scenes of fog-blanketed hills and babbling brooks, there must be enough depth within the plot and circumstances of the characters to carry the audience through the scene and provoke thought during the inaction.
4. Bad, cliche music is really not excusable in a film set in 18th century England.
5. There were multiple dances in the 18th century. This movie had two fairly lengthy ball scenes in which the actors only dance one dance. The same dance. Could they only learn one dance? Come on, people! It is also the most prominent dance seen in every other Jane Austen movie. So, in short - pick a different dance!
6. "Pride and Prejudice" was not Austen's first, nor greatest, novel by any means. This movie only mentions/refers to this one novel and only uses the quotes we all know from it (i.e - "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possesion of a good fortune must be in want of a wife,"). Originality, folks, is the way to go. I tell you true.
7. I like Anne Hathaway. I do. Her British accent is remarkably similar to that of an American accent. Jane Austen was also not that pretty.
8. In addition, Jane Austen, did not acquire movie-star fame in her life time. Many of her works were published during her life, and I'm sure she was recognized to some degree. However, not to the degree of this movie's portrayal. At the end, a young girl walks up to Austen's character and says (no joke), "Are you THE Miss Austen? The Miss Austen who wrote 'Pride and Prejudice?'" Ahhhh! Gag, gag, gag.

In reluctant conclusion (I'm tired) this movie was a sad attempt to imitate perfectly agreeable and tasteful films of the same subject and style. It also fell back on atrociously modern, idiosyncratic thought. If one wants to portray historic, social injustice, one should not, in any way, allow a modern perspective to creep into the character's language. It actually lessens the sensitivity one might have toward the injustice - in my opinion, of course.

So, I don't recommend it. I do admit to being a bit biased and, perhaps, a bit critical. There was no originality, though. None. Inexcusabe. And bad music to boot. I mean, they milked the single, mournful violin in all the semi-tragic scenes. Use a different instrument! Pick a different dance! Ugh. Thus ends my diatribe. Good night.

Have you ever come to the conclusion that it is the little, unexpected things that make life overwhelming? I would not have agreed with this sentiment prior to today. I would have said that it is the foreknowledge of the things I have planned that make my life overwhelming at times. However, after my latest encounter with the unexpected and unplanned, I have come to this very conclusion. I'll give you my day backwards.

After a very long day, not only at work but standing in line at the bank as well, I came home to do some more work on the computer. After posting the children's choir schedule for the year on our website (which did not go smoothly, I might add), I decided to make something to eat. As I began to prepare my famous mini pesto pitas, my new roomate walked into the room, and we began a conversation (mainly me venting about my day) which apparently prevented my notice of the manner in which I was seasoning my mini pesto pitas. I like to put Paprika on a lot of stuff. Paprika is red. So is Cayenne Pepper. Ding goes the timer; out come the mini pesto pitas; in my mouth go about three pitas. Two seconds later I'm puzzled by the unnatural saltiness of the mini pesto pitas, and about three seconds later...oh, oh, ooooooh, why is my mouth on FIRE?!?! Water, cough, water, please, wheeze, cough, waaaater... (fortunately no one is around to see my desperate lunge at the nearest liquid). The nearest liquid was unfortunately a fruity, alcoholic beverage, which, by the way, does nothing to ease the shock of burning bilabials, gums, and tongue. Five minutes later, things are a bit better. I am now munching on a vegetarian corndog - the only other thing worth eating at my house. Sad, I know. It was that or Cheerios or old soup. What can I say. I'm broke. Well, not completely; I have enough money to live on vegetarian corndogs and cheerios.

This leads into my next unexpected happening. Because I am broke (relatively), I went to the bank to deposite a check. While there, I remembered that I needed to order more checks. Unexpected line-standing is always a good way to become utterly and unnecessarily stressed. I had nowhere I had to be. Yet, the fact that I stood in line for 20 minutes to order new checks completely put me in an impatient, watch gazing mood. I find impatience overwhelming. I am rarely impatient, so the feeling is somewhat foreign when it does occur.

This leads into the rest of my day. I pretty much spent the day impatient...with my new coworker...hopefully soon to be ex-coworker. My buddy Ben has left to go to seminary. Ben spent the past week training his replacement. Ben's job is your typical office stuff mixed in with fairly detailed jobs involving our database and website. Ben, I thought, did a very good job of training this person. This person, however, did not do a very good job of being trained. I never saw him take a single note. Not one. Oh well, I thought, perhaps he is just a computer whiz and has a photographic memory. The past two days, especially today, have proven that this is not the case. I spent a good chunk of my day showing said coworker how to do the basics of his job. Basics, people. Like how to run a simple report from our database. Something he was told how to do on days 1-5. Like I said, I am typically a very patient person. However, I did not have the time today to babysit his potential mistakes. I spent much of the day trying to rationalize myself into a Christ-like view of the various situations. Yet, the harder I tried, the more frustrated I became. Moments of grace, mercy, and patience were fleeting (these were the moments in which I agreed to help him). I even asked him at one point, "Don't you need to write some of this down so you don't forget (again)?" "Oh no," he replies. "I prefer to keep it in my head." I counted to three. Deep breath. "Well, I normally find that things stay in my head better if I write them down," I said, with barely clenched teeth. "Oh, well, not for me," he quipped. Ten minutes later he is stuck at the two same spots he was stuck before. I respond - "Remember...(much clue-giving and prompting with ample time to receive the correct answer)...sigh...you have to do this before you do this." "oh, ok." AHHHHHHH. For the love of all things holy and logical. What to do? I don't think he will be there much longer, though. I just wonder how he was hired in the first place. I could go on and on about this situation. I shall not though.
So, yeah. The little, unplanned things (granted, nothing life-alteringly unexpected happened today) are what make our days, sometimes, just the most burdening days of all. Harumph. And it is only Tuesday.

Well folks, I'm back. I received a wonderful comment on my journal today from Melinda which totally took the pressure off of feeling badly about journaling in very infrequent intervals. However, I do hereby dedicate this entry to my dear Aunt Sandy, who has informed me that she checks my blog almost everyday and is very tired of reading the same thing over and over. I love you, Sandy.
Hmmm...what's there to talk about? I had a lovely vacation with my family in Brazil. The weather was phenomenal.
JB is still over and there is a new show on the horizon - "You Can't Take it with You." It's a comedy. I read it yesterday and found it to be absolutely hilarious. Sort of a crazy Adams' family theme. Love it.
Mel and Ryan are engaged! Yippee! Major points to Ryan; her ring is classy, original, and stunning. I'm so very thrilled for the two of them. It will be a beautiful marriage.
Life is taking on momentum at a startling pace. I'm happy though. I joined Dunwoody this past Sunday. It was time. It looks like I'll be in Atlanta for a while, and it has become my church home in ways I never expected two years ago. I filled out my new member survey and did have a couple of things to say in terms of how it could be a better church, but over all, I'm happy about officially making it my church home.
What else....? I have an audition for Atlanta Lyric coming up on Sunday, and a couple new voice students; My Cherubs start back up in a couple weeks; Summer singers has been on a roll this summer and we have a couple performances in a couple weeks, too.
Beth leaves for Miami in a week. We're having a party for her on Friday. I wish her all the best. She seems very excited, but I know the goodbyes have been hard.
Robert and I have taken up tennis again. I'm terrible, but it is a lot of fun.
There's no romance to speak of at the momment. Sigh. It's ok though. Straight men are pigs; and there is lots to keep my single self occupied, like aggressively pursuing this Emory Grad program. I'm going to have to take the GRE again. Yuck. My scores were ok the first time. They could be better though,and this program is competetive. So, it's back to vocab, factoring, and trying ever so hard to think about everything in a logical fashion. Ugh. Almost makes me want to cry.
Well, that was merely a catch-up journal for the folks I don't talk to very often. Perhaps the next one will have a bit more depth to it. For now, though, it's off to the grocery store. The kittens are out of food yet again. They eat so much!

It has sadly been more than two months since I last posted. I'm not really sure what I think of this whole online journal thing anymore. I feel obligated to be profound or...something. Yet, it has been two months, so I'm not sure if anyone will even read this. There just seems to be so many other things that I could be doing other than sitting at the computer waxing philosophical or emotional or whatever else one waxes in these forms of public expression. It has been a full, fulfilling, tiresome, emotional two months. Most of my time has been spent in rehearsal for JB, or at one of my jobs preparing for some sort of camp or performance. It is all over now. I'm waiting for my adrenaline to just go KABOOM! So far, I'm ok, though. I just finished watching "Sense and Sensability," and I am still in my pj's. Ah, leisure. I don't know what to say about the past two months, or six, really. Most of my emotional and mental energy was in some way or another caught up in JB. I either cannot say enough about it, or I have no way of saying anything about it. I wish I had told more people to come. It was one of the most enriching, heart-wrenching, and challenging experiences I have ever had. I cannot do it justice in writing, but I do love to talk about it. So, if you are curious, just ask me about JB sometime. The rest of my summer is looking pretty laid back. I'm going to Brazil the first week in July with my family. I'm in the process of finding another job to tide me over until grad school. Another good friend is moving away. I'm still dealing with how to deal with the pods of close friends that I have which once were connected, and now, for a couple various reasons, are not. It is so strange. I can't have a big party with all my friends anymore. Everyone knows each other, but they don't connect well. This past year has been a constant effort to embrace the change surrounding me. I'm getting better at it, I think. Oh, I don't want to go into all that again, though. I was rereading some of my posts the other day, and they all seem to fluctuate between some sort of rationalization of my feelings of discontent and moments of reasoning myself out of those feelings. I'm tired of all that. The past five or so months of journeying through interpretations of the story of Job in JB have taught me many things. Many of which I don't think I have fully learned. The title of my post is a quote from the end of Scene 1, when everything is still happy and complete. No dead children or boils to speak of yet. The irony of referencing "the end" as a beautiful thing in the beginning of a tragic play is fascinating to me. It does end in a sadly beautiful way, though. I am learnig how to be, I think. The next steps are to appreciate who I am becoming and cease fearing the ends of chapters in my life. There is beauty in all of this being and becoming. However, the culmination of it all in the end is what makes it all definitively beautiful, despite the dirt, the sweat, the tears, the lies, the deaths, the bruises, and the scars. For now though, "My heart beats. I cannot answer it" (JB, Scene 9).

The sky is a sort of greenish gray - the type of color that makes everything else that is green look even greener. Ah, here comes the lightning. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four...yup, it's close. The rain hasn't started just yet. I love thunder storms. Hmmm...and here's the rain...wait...nope, it's hail! Whoa, it's really coming down. You know, I think I'm really more enamored with the way everthing is before a storm rather than the storm itself, although, I do love the sound of rain. I recently bought a picture to put above this fabulous roll-top desk I acquired from my parents about a month ago. It was one of their wedding presents. Anyways, the picture was something like $4 at Michael's, but it is a perfect illustration of romantic oblivion. There is, of course, a couple. They are dancing to the croonings of an old brass phonograph. The man's back is turned; we do not see his face. A storm is brewing around them. The wind is stirring up paper, blowing her hair, whipping her red dress up around them. Yet, the best part of the picture is not the dress, nor the dancing pose, nor the mystery of not seeing his face, but it is the fact that they are not running from the storm. Instead, he holds a black umbrella over them, and they just dance. The sky darkens, the rain comes, the wind blows, and they just dance amidst the storm. It's a beautiful picture. A bit impressionistic, a bit abstract, and completely romantic in every sense. Sigh. I wonder what they are listening to.

This is a fabulous Cole Porter song that I'm now learning. I don't know why I'm learning it really, other than the fact that Robert said I should, and I need to build up my rep. I do so wish that I had something to work towards vocally, beside just improving. I've been thinking how fun it would be to do sort of a cabaret type show. Real laid back. Favorite show tunes. How, when, where, and with whom, though, are all questions that I would need to figure out. Sigh. The kittens are being adorably playful, as I suppose all kittens are; I'm a bit biased, though. Oh, there is so much I should be doing right now. My room is a disaster; I need to work on my lines for JB; I need to journal and draw a self-portrait; I need to return some phone calls; I need to plan the music for an Easter sunrise service for which I'm singing. Yet, ever since I've returned home from rehearsal, I've done nothing but sit in front of the TV. I watched "The King and I," and the latter half of "Bridget Jones' Diary." Now "Want Women Want" is on, and I absolutely must watch "Brothers and Sisters" at 10. Watching romance in movies is always bittersweet. Oh, it's Spring, and love should be in the air. Down deep, or maybe not that deep, I'm still an incorigible romantic. I do want adventure and excitement; not just...oh, I don't know...not just, just...something comfortable, I guess. That's not the right word, but I can't think of a better one right now. Love is hard to find, though, and I'm picky, or that's what I keep telling myself. I haven't had that much to choose from lately, though. The boys, or men I should say, aren't exactly lining up at the door. Ugh, this is turning into one of those female pity parties that I so abhor. Yet, when I'm listening to music or watching some beautiful man singing in a rich baritone, "We kiss in a shadow...," I can't help it. I want that too, in some form or another. I know it's not all about the sparkle and the butterflies, but I do know it is supposed to be fun and exciting. Harumph. I keep telling myself that I'm content being single, but part of me knows that I'm really just trying to convince myself of it more than actually being content. I should be, though. Content, I mean. I have wonderful friends; I'm rarely lacking companionship. Ick, ick, ick. This is why I hate being a romantic. Romantics are always easily prone to melancholy, self-pity, and yearning for the unatainable...that's no excuse, though. Suck it, up Decker. Enjoy being young, and independent, and modern, and, and...oh, bother. No use. Alright. I'm done.
"We kiss in a shadow,
We hide from the moon...
To kiss in the sunlight
And say to the sky:
"Behold and believe what you see!
Behold how my lover loves me!"
~The King and I

Someday, someday...

2 billion results pop up on Google if you search the letter "N." I know this because my cat Wheeler just did it. I left them in the room alone with my computer on for two minutes, and Wheeler's little jaunt across the keys of my computer managed to produce a Google search for the letter "N" in my absence. Hmmmm. I am home again tonight. It is nice having cats. They keep me entertained. I'm not really bored. Well, in other words, I have plenty I could be doing to occupy my time. Yet, I don't feel motivated to do much of anything. I'm in a restless state. It is harder for me to be alone now than it has ever been. I don't know why really. I used to relish my alone times. Now, I enter them with reluctance. I've also forgotten how to be truly silent. In the past, silences were just as important, if not more, as the sounds in my life. Sounds are now more comforting than silences. Not to be mistaken. I do cherish moments of solitude and silence once I'm in them. I don't seek them out anymore, though. I find this developement in my life a little sad. It's like I'm slowly forgetting how to just be. Perhaps the cause lies in the frenetic pace of my life the past 3 or 4 years. Now that I have more time, like my evenings, I don't know what to do. I don't know who I am, much of the time, outside of the circumstances and people that, and who, make up my life. I love people, and life, and experiences, especially looking back and realizing the many ways in which my experiences have shaped me thus far. I love nature and music, romance and words, rain and tea. Why then do I not love them when I have them? I let myself be cynical and nonchalant about things that I really do value. I scoff now at flowery sentiment. I question sincerity in others. I don't want to be naive or ignorant of things, yet callousness is not a trait I wish to acquire. Perhaps the cynic in me is born more out of a longing and a lack, than mere snobbery. I long for sincerity, yet it is so rare, even in myself. We are masters at pretense and we don't even realize how superficial we are most of the time. Oh, I don't know where this is going or why this entry has turned into a bemoaning of sorts. The kittens are sleeping. They are the cutest little creatures in the world, especially when they sleep. I'm listening to jazz and about to fix some dinner. I'm a bit down, and restless. I'm angry at my own laziness at the moment. I'm mad that I'm tired. I'm frustrated with my lack of motivation. I'm anticipating tomorrow and don't feel like enjoying an evening of solitude. I hate that I want to cry for no reason. I suppose nothing's really wrong with me; I just feel like there's something wrong. Ugh. I despise emotional ambiguity. I shall cease. No mas. (pretend that there is an accent over the "a" in "mas"). The rest of the evening awaits me. What it holds in thought and action, I do not know; there's always some adventure in not knowing, right?

Saturday morning, Tara and I were sitting around the breakfast table with Melinda and Holly talking about cats and kittens. Next thing I know, I have skipped my Dance Stretch class and we (Tara and I) are standing in Petsmart with a little gray and white six-week old kitten. Yup, we adopted him. We also adopted his brother - a little tabby. We now have two kittens. I can't really believe it. They are the cutest things one did ever see. Their names are Chop and Wheeler. Wheeler is Wheeler just because the name fits. Chop is Chop because of a tragic childhood story and a running joke about said story which Tara and I have had for a couple years. Ask me about it in person if you're curious. Having pets will be good for us I think. I'm thinking of it as the next step in our adulthood. It is funny how the mothering in us comes out when we have something under our responsibility to nuture and love. As soon as I walked in the house after we adopted them, my eye immediately fell to the floor. It was filthy and full of little things that baby kittens probably should not eat. I hadn't noticed at all how dirty the floor was before we had little kittens who might eat the things on the floor. Oh, the responsibility.
Wheeler is our adventurer,I think. He's a little bit more independent, but doesn't mind being held and cuddled at all. Chop is our needy, affectionate whiner. He's the one who cries and mews, begs to be held and then, once he is picked up, climbs and cuddles all around your neck. It's cute, but annoying after a while and a bit painful too with those claws. I've wanted a cat for such a long time, and now we have two!
Two little, adorable kittens!

I am home on a Thursday night for the first time in three or four weeks and what should occur? Both "Ugly Betty" and "Grey's Anatomy" are reruns. Oh, I'm so, so very bitterly disappointed. These are the only TV shows to which I'm really attached, except for "Brothers and Sisters" and sometimes "House." Ay, Ay, Ay, como me duele. On a brighter note, I had a good day at work today. I actually felt productive and useful. I was beginning to forget how gratifying hard work can be. I then spent a couple hours this evening giving the entire Rogers clan, minus the youngest, piano and voice lessons. After two and a half hours of "No, it's Gb, Eb, Cb, and no, that gets two counts, don't stop counting, and stand up straight please," I swung by Fresh Market to pick up a scrumptious dinner for my planned evening of sitting in front of the TV. I love Fresh Market. I walked in and was delightfully greeted by the smell of fresh roses arranged in an array of blooming fragrance and the pristine tinkling of a Bach invention over the speakers. I picked up some asparagus and brie soup, fresh sourdough, and baby swiss. I must say, my dinner was quite tasty. The drive home was rough. I-285 in a deluge of rain is just not very much fun. Tomorrow should be a good day, though. In fact, I'm really looking forward to my whole weekend. I'm going to be productive tomorrow and clean, launder, and organize our newly acquired roll-top desk. At 1:00, I'm going to pick up my previous Bermuda charges from school and spend a couple hours with them. The day will end with Alan's Stetson group giving a concert at Dunwoody, and hang out time afterwards. Saturday will be leisurely, with a possible dance class in the morning and an evening date with my daddy. Sunday will bring with it church and our first extended JB rehearsal. I'm so excited about this play. The language, the depth, the probing, the vulnerability...I can't wait to just swim in it. Sunday, I am supposed to show up to rehearsal with a drawing pad and colored pencils dressed in comfortable clothes prepared to move and make weird noises. Yay! We are also supposed to keep a journal of this experience. I'm really looking forward that as well. Things are good;, life is fine - beautiful and exciting at times, even. I do feel that every other day I need to convince myself that this is indeed true, but after counting about two blessings, I know it's so. The vast unknown isn't as scary as it was a couple months ago, and besides the usual concerns that are a part of living paycheck to paycheck, the other worries on which I usually choose focus really aren't that significant in the proverbial grand scheme of things. I'm 22. It's ok to live paycheck to paycheck at this point. I'm living. There are things that I would love to see happening in my life soon, but they'll happen when they happen. And that's just that. I was teaching Sunday school the other week at the Moncrief Baptist Center and the lesson was on Matthew chapter 6. "Do not worry about tomorrow..." Such familiar verses, but I've found that nothing really hits home with me like it does when I'm teaching children. Things were chaotic, and I'm not sure how much of the lesson they actually retained, but we all had fun and I was once again gently reminded through the simplicity of a child's lesson that tomorrow will take care of itself. Now, if I could just be sure that my Cherubs will be ready to sing in two weeks. As of Wednesday, "Saviour, Like Shepherd Lead Us" is going to sound like "Sayor, lie a sheferd Lee-EEED Uh-us, mum-ble, mumble, mumble, CARE." We'll see what happens. Sunday, March 11th will take care of itself too, I guess.

I'm currently sitting in Cindy's and my drab office at church. We need to decorate this thing. Services just ended, and I am spending the next few hours up here until HS musical. It has really been a good show. They were off to a rough start on opening night but have managed to pull up the energy and really turn it in to a great experience for all. Teenagers are such fun at times. I'm listening to everyone give their Sunday partings as they head off to lunch. I'm contemplating how to spend the next couple of hours. I brought music, so I can practice some;I brought a book, so I can read some; I brought my ipod, so I can listen to music some...hmmmm...none of these sound appealing at the moment. Maybe I'll go get some lunch and then decide. I have to wait for the crowds to leave first though. Yesterday, I saw the most amazing performance. The Met is doing a series of live broadcasts of various operas in theatres around the country. Yesterday at Regal 24, I went to see Renee Fleming and Dmitri Horowhat's-his-name in Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin. Ah, there are no words. The singing, the staging, the set, the costumes, the emotion, the acting...all phenomenal and brilliantly executed. It was quite enjoyable. Mmm..just thinking about it makes me emotional. Friendship, betrayal, unrequited love...I feel like singing now. I should probably wait a bit on that too, though, because church today was a royal screamfest for the soprano section. Two rehearsals and two services later, I'm all tuckered out. We of course began with another stratospheric descant with just enough chromaticism that results in only half the section singing the right notes, even with the trumpet blaring behind us. We then sung "I want Jesus to Walk With Me." I've sung it too much. Second service, I just set my feelings aside and sang to the best of my ability. It's a taxing sort of song though. Lots of loud, heavy and sometimes high, tenuto notes with deep, rich tone for the sopranos. A small group of us then did a sacred harp piece for the offertory, which I enjoyed thouroughly, but we sang it a little too much in rehearsal for me to really enjoy it in the moment. I know now that a true, good worship experience must be self-motivated. No matter how I feel about the service, I just need to offer what I have to give and take what is being offered me in the brief time of "communion with the saints" that I have each week on Sundays. I think the Apostle's creed is my favorite part of the service. We, as one body, state the tenents of our faith. No matter how we may doubt or struggle, we can always come back to "I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ His only Son, Our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. The third day He rose from the dead. He ascended into Heaven and sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty from whence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen." Amen, indeed. Happy First Sunday of Lent, everyone. I do love lent. It's the romantic in me, I think. I love times set aside for reflection, and deep, dark feeling and expression. Mmmm...trying to grasp that which is unfathomable is such a rich experience of exploration for me. I never reach any answers, but I don't think life is really about the answers as it is so much the yearning to understand. No one has the answers exactly, so let's just all be honest and strive to share with each other in the most loving, giving, compassionate way how we have faith in this world. Hm. That is any easy thing to say - not so easy to do. It is amazing to me at times, how we, as intelligent beings, fail so miserably at understanding and compassion.

Ok, enough for now. Everyone should be gone, so I'm going to go put up the orff intruments Cindy's kids used this morning and then find something to eat. I'm hungry.