I Know He's Not Real, But My Imagination Doesn't.

Over the course of my 16.75 years I've fallen for very few guys. Real guys, that is. I've fallen in love with more than a few fictional males. As per Steffi's request, here is a list.

1. Mr. Darcy. Need I explain this? He is the culmination of all any decent woman wishes for in a man.
2. Joe Hardy. Blonde, brilliant, funny--what's there not to like?
3. Sheftu (from Mara, Daughter of the Nile). An Egyptian double agent who is pretty damn sexy, what with his rogue actions.
4. Prince Rillian. A bewitched, long-lost prince in distress--oo lá lá.
5. MacQueen. He kills his boss. So bloody brilliant!
6. Michael Corleone. If you don't know who this is, I pity you. Go watch The Godfather.
7. Johnny Fontane. Ditto the above.
8. Dickon (from The Secret Garden). When I was younger, I daydreamed about being friends with Dickon. He's just so cool!
9. Marcus (from Eagle of the Ninth). A Roman warrior on a quest for a missing legion. So, so, so amazing.
10. Aragorn. No, duh. Who doesn't like him?
11. Roderick Usher. So delightfully creepy, and he's musical to boot.
12. Kinshi (from The Master Puppeteer). I don't really know why; I've just always liked him a lot.
13. Johnny Tremain. Classic!
14. Edward Cullen. I admit it; I'm attracted to him a great deal.
15. Jack Bauer. Hell yes.
16. Mac (from CSI:NY). He is so cunning and rather witty. *nod*
17. Tony Almeida. I like this guy more than Jack, actually, because who does Jack call to save his ass? TONY!
18. Jack Sparrow. As you can tell, I like the rogue guys.
19. Lucius Malfoy. I'm a bit ashamed to admit this one.
20. Booth (from Bones). Not much I can say on this one, except he always makes me smile.
21. Zach (also from Bones). So what if he was a cannibal's apprentice? He's still a lovable, adorable, quirky genius.
22.Michael Moscovitz!!!!! He makes me so happy. *grin* I love Michael.

Possible Future Loves

1. Heathcliffe. I have yet to read Wuthering Heights, so we'll see.
2. Severus Snape. Maybe...someday. I do adore this character, but not in this way...yet.

A Post About Almost Nothing Important

Someone told me I should blog about music. I feel like I do that too often, but I'll do it again anyway.

Concerts I'm going to:

--Relient K
--Leeland
--Anberlin (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
--The Decemberists

Concerts I haven't decided on yet:
--Cold War Kids
--Thrice
--The Academy Is....
--Of Montreal
--The Mars Volta
--Secondhand Serenade

'Course, Cyd will tell me to scrap Leeland and RK and see CWK and Thrice instead, but....I don't know.

Anberlin's new release, New Surrender, drops this month. Get it.

That is all...for now.

There's Heavy Metal Coming from Your Truck

Alright. I won't stop blogging. *bows with a flourish*

Something interesting happened today. On my TPS user profile I put Eloise's famous lines: I'm Eloise. I'm six. I am a city child. I live in the Plaza.
It was meant to be funny, but apparently some poor soul (who will remain anonymous) took it seriously. I got an email from said poor soul asking, "Are you really six?"
Because he (or she; for the sake of their privacy I will not disclose his or her gender) is apparently tremendously naive, I decided to have a little fun with him or her. I whipped back a response, saying, "Yes, I'm six. I'm a genius. My IQ is 178." Unfortunately, the student responded with a "WOW!!!!!"

This is why I try to avoid TPSers.

I'm going to stop blogging, I think.

It was inevitable, this decision. 

More later....maybe.

Confessions of a Loser

I have a confession to make.

I miss writing papers. I really, truly do.
*hangs her head in shame*

That is all......for now.

Song of the Moment

Who can tell me if we have heaven?
who can say the way it should be?
Moonlight holly, the Sappho Comet,
Angel's tears below a tree.
You talk of the break of morning
as you view the new aurora,
Cloud in crimson, the key of heaven,
one love carved in acajou.
One told me of China Roses,
One a Thousand nights and one night,
Earth's last picture, the end of evening:
hue of indigo and blue.
A new moon leads me to
woods of dreams and I follow.
A new world waits for me;
my dream, my way.
I know that if I have heaven
there is nothing to desire.
Rain and river, a world of wonder
may be paradise to me.
I see the sun.
I see the stars.

China Roses--Enya

Jaded: A Collection of Thoughts, Comments, and Forum Posts from My Week

I can't explain how I feel right now really, so I compiled some stuff I posted on various boards and blogs and things I said in IM conversations this week to try and articulate what I feel.

I have to give a presentation in a couple weeks about the Philly trip, and Kurt told me I need to bring a photo slide to share.  

Instantly I thought of I posted a picture on Facebook from a missions trip to Philly I took 
this summer. My friend Cyd left a comment saying, "Can you spot the 
missionary?" Which is hysterical, cos I'm the only white girl in the photo 
(nothing new for me, though). But it got me to thinking... 

The world should be able to play "Let's spot the Christians," just because 
of our compassion. But I look at the suburban American church and I 
don't see the welcoming, supportive, merciful, proactive community that 
it should be. I feel like she's missing her Jesus in a lot of areas. I know 
that Jesus came for the broken and the lost and the poor and the 
troubled. I know that it's not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick. 
And I know that blessed are the lowest of the low and the broken and 
those who mourn and the meek and those who are persecuted. And I see 
what Christ did in living with them and being like them, and I don't see 
that played out in the church. And it frustrates me to no end. Because 
Jesus was homeless. And he lived his life amongst the hopeless. And he 
gave up his life for wretched sinners like me. And we're called to follow 
him and be like him. But we're not. We're too content to stay in our little 
shells of suburban comfort and offer hollow words of cliched comfort to 
those who are suffering. 

And all this has made me awfully jaded. Because I know that blessed are 
the merciful, for they will receive mercy. And I know that whatever we do 
for the lowest of the low, we do for Jesus. But I don't see this happening. All I see is hollow and meaningless and ridiculously commercialized. 

That said, I'm sick of the cliche answers I've gotten to these thoughts of mine. I'm sick of all the answers I've been given by Christians, actually. Lately I've just been so torn up and jaded. It feels like someone has stuck a hot iron into my soul and it twisting it around. I am broken; I am bitter. I can't write. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can only think. And thinking causes my soul to twist in a slow, tortured agony. And this is where I gather first-hand experience with the hollowness of the church. No one can commiserate with me or truly encourage or comfort me. They can only be fake and hollow and cliched.

And yes, I'm going to get up in church in two weeks and give this post as my presentation.