The Big Silver Ball

Tonight, families across the world will huddle together, either around their TV sets or in Times Square, to watch a big, bright, electric ball fall to the ground.  Lovers will kiss, children will grin, and babies who don't want to be awake will probably cry.  Toasts will be made with champagne and sparkling cider and New Year's Resolutions will be written in long lists, only to be forgotten once February rolls around.  The world will celebrate as it only does on New Years and we will look back at the year that we have just survived.   

But why a ball?  Why do we drop a large, electric, crystal ball from the top of a pole to the bottom each year?  I did alot of internet searching to answer this question.  Thanks to Wikipedia I found the answer. In the early 1900's, the New York Times paper moved into what was at the time called Long Grace square.  The newspaper company pursuaded the city to rename the square what it is now called today; Time's Square.  In order to celebrate the name change, the newspaper's owner, Adolf Ochs (now that's an interesting name) decided to hold a big fireworks display on New Year's eve.  These fireworks went off every year for four years until Adolf decided that fireworks weren't big enough.  So, he made a big wooden ball covered with lightbulbs and stuck it atop of a pole ontop of his Newspaper building.  The ball made its debut in 1907.  Originally, the ball dropped the second after the new year which I find interesting.  The New York Times eventually moved out of Time's Square, but the practice and the name of the square stuck.  We have had five more balls since that first ball.  The one that we have now is coated in waterhouse crystals. 

Every year, a special guest accompanied by the mayor, gets to press the button that will "drop the ball." It is a purely ceremonial event, however, because the pressing of the button does absolutely nothing.  The ball is timed to drop at a precise time with or without the button.  In the past, Muhammad Ali, Bill and Hillarly Clinton, and even specially chosen high school students have gotten a chance to push the button.  This year, after preforming live, Lady Gaga will get a chance to pok 'er face into the button  (sorry, I couldn't resist).  I'm thinking it's going to be a very interesting year.

This year, we have experienced earthquakes, weddings, celebrity divorces, and tragic deaths.  People have cried and people have laughed.  The kardashians have continued to gain popularity for reasons that I will never understand, a new reality show with Simon cowell has entered the TV world, Psych has continued for another season (yah!), and Apple has continued to dazzle us with new inventions.  We have seen shootings, new laws, and continued protests in Egypt.  The biggest surprise of all this year is that the world did not end.  Instead it still continues the way that it has for thousands of years.

Dusk

This post is going to be a little bit different than usual.  Instead of explaining an idea or a concept or doing anything informative, I'm going to recreate an experience. 

 


The night was tangible.  The colors were bright.  Drops of water clung to the playground equipment.  Streaks of wind played with the children's hair.  A girl walked through the park.  Hands in pockets and hair free and wild. She walked to the swing, and sat down on it's damp rubber. 

The green sweater had seen better days, but it kept out the chill. It was from a discount store, so it never stayed in place.  It slipped off one shoulder.  She rocked to-and-fro until she was high off the ground.  She rushed forward, the wind pulling her hair straight back and revealing her face, and then she fell back, and her hair hid her again.  Buzz buzz went her phone.  She pulled it from her pcket and read the message.  Shoot, thought the girl.  One of her friends was informing her that she mispelled a word in the title of her recent blogpost.  The girl shook her head and sent the reply. 

The sky was swirly gray and white, like chocolate marbled bannana bread.  Near the horizon, was a strip of light, like someone had decided to put icing on the bottom of the banana bread.  The houses made sillhouettes in the strip.  The grass was almost flourecent from the rain, and the dirt nearly black.  Stark, and contrasting against the sky, skeletal tree branches reached for the heavens. 

A strane feeling had settled over the girl.  As she watched her siblings and friends play in the puddles, she could not help feeling amazed at the haunting beauty of the moment.  Her camera on her phone would not do it justice.  This world was too pretty for it to hold.  The rain had made the world beautiful.  It was almost a vampire beauty, dark and mysterious, yet bold and bright.  The girl, however did not like vampires.

Dusk was darkening and the group trudged home.  It was the time of night when the moon rises high in the sky.  Tonight it was a sliver that pierced the sky, almost like someone had punched their fingernail through black paper to let the light behind shine through. 

A star shone below the moon, bringing symetry to the picture. 

Soon, the children were within footsteps of the house.  As the girl stepped inside, the warm glow of the Christmas tree chased away the mood and the feeling of that night.  But she knew, that she would never forget. 

Running and Complaining

Did everyone have a good Christmas?  I did!  It seems that we have finally named the dog Nick.  He has gotten increasingly bold the more familiar that he gets with us and he seems to be developing a will.  Oh joy.  He is, of course, still as cute as ever. :) But you don't want to hear any more about the dog that is the subject of the longest post I've ever made.  So, I shall try to keep Nick comments to a minimum.

It's interesting the amount of time I spend complaining.  Cooking, shopping, getting dressed, shaving, taking vitamins, picking up after my dog...  The funny thing is, many of the things that I complain about are things that I really like or that are good for me.  I think that I just like the drama and attention that I get when I complain.  I like it when people sympathize with me and say "Aww! hang in there."  Today I am complaining about running.

Yesterday, I decided that it was time to begin working off all of the fudge, sugar cookies, eggnogg cheese cake (best cheesecake ever!), pumpkin pie, and assorted stocking stuffer candy that had settled around my waste line.  So, I went for a run.  As I pulled on excersize shorts over black leggings and an American Eagle hoody, I kept thinking about how fun running is.  I imagined myself, dashing through the streets, the wind in my hair and wings at my feet.  Then, I started running, and I remembered something; I'm really out of shape.

See, I have not been to dance class in over a week and before that I wasn't practicing nearly as much as I ought to.  This might seem like a short period of time,  but you'd be astonished at how fast stamina can weaken.  The first two laps were fine, except that little post-Christmas children started chasing me with their remote control cars and this really attractive male runner who actually knew what he was doing bounded around me when I was stopping to walk.   

By the time I finished my meager three laps around my neightborhood and struggled up the door steps, I was dizzy and struggling to breathe.  The cold air had aggrivated the flem in my lungs and I was coughing, and hacking up great gobs of nastines.  I walked in circles around my house, trying to cool down my legs.

Today my legs hurt everywhere.  My cavs are tight and ouchy (probably because I run on my toes.. don't ask why) and my hips are super sore.  I grimace everytime I sit down or try to walk down the stairs.

See, I just spent all of that time complaining about running when really I actually like it! When I'm actually in shape, I love the feeling of my feet bouncing across the pavement.  I love being outdoors with the leaves and the birds.  I love jogging through my neighborhood, and observing people at their play. I even love the sore muscles because it means I got a work out!

So, I am an awful complainer.  That's something that I need to work on when it comes to the person that God has created in me.  I think that we could all stand to spend less time complaining.  We in America complain about EVERYTHING! Shoes, clothing stores, cell phones, public restrooms.  Mabe if we all spent less time complaining (like me with running) then the world would be a better place.

The Christmas Puppy

If you're looking for a nice nostalgic Christmas post, sorry. This post really isn't very holidayish.  However, I can guarantee that you will get warm fuzzies after reaing it. I considered writing something about Christmas trees and wrapping paper, but I needed to talk about what happened yesterday.  So, I give you, "The Christmas Puppy." 

 "Come on!"  I whined. "the Wests are waiting for us!"

"Can't you tell us where we're going?'  asks Ethan.

"She won't tell us anything, just that it's somewhere that we have tickets for and we're going with the wests."  Says Emma.

In another ten minutes, we are in the minivan, singing along to "Oh Brother Where Art Though" and wondering what on earth our mother has in store for us.

"Are we going ice skating?"

"Maybe we're going to a concert!"

"Is it a dog show!?"

"Daddy would loooove that!"  (sarcasm)

As our guesses get more and more elaborate, my mother has a harder and harder time of keeping quiet.  She laughs and keeps shaking her head. 

Finally, we tire of guessing and all settle into our seats for the long drive.  Emma catches up on old blog posts on our cell phone, I hide behind my straightened hair imagining all sorts of things, and ethan sits quietly with his legs tucked up under him.  I consider many possibilities.  Maybe we are going to see a comedian preform, or a T. Swift concert.  Hopefully it won't be some dumb little kid christmas show with santa and frosty the snow man scating along to white christmas.  What do people usually do on Christmas Eve?  Is there something going on?  Did I see something on TV about a Christmas Eve show?  I don't think so.

An hour or so later, I'm contentedly sipping a Pumpkin Spice Latte, and we're almost to our mysterious destination. 

"Are the wests here yet?"

"Mhmmmm." 

"The car needs gas."  Dad pulls into a Wawa.

"Dad!  We need to meet up with the Wests!  We can get gas later!"

"See!  They're all full! Let's goooooo!!  We impatiently urge our parents away from the seemingly inconsequential Wawa parking lot.  Meanwhile my father parks by a little white car.  He gets out and walks over to the man in it.

As we're all wondering what on earth he could be doing, the door opens, and in the man's lap is a small, soft, perfectly copper colored, eight-week-old, King Charles Spaniel puppy.  It dawns on my instantly.  The secret phone calls, the schedualed meeting, the whispers, my father playing dumb.  It all made sense. 

"Are you frekin kiddin me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"   I screm as I leap from the car.  Seconds later I am holding  the most beautiful animal I have ever seen.  He looks at me with tentatively trusting brown eyes.  He snuggles into my arms.  We take turns holding him as my Mom pulls out the checkbook and my dad listens to the care advice from the breeders. 

"He's from Charleston." Says mom.  " We wanted to drive all the way up there so we could meet his mom and siblings, but it's too far."

We barely hear her.  We are all enamored with the puppy that we can't even believe is ours. 

On the way home, we try desperately to come up with a name. 

"His dad is from Ireland, he has to have an Irish name."  I say.

"Fergus!"  Says mom.

"No nick!" says Ethan.

"Yah then he can be Nick in a cage!" 

"He's a Liam I'm telling you he's a Liam!" Dad insists.

"Look!  That truck says Harrison, it's a sign."

 We go through millions of names.  Wesley, Brody, Harrison, Perry, Phineas, Ferb, Flynn, Levi, Neal, Angus, Theodore, Mozart, Reagan, Ion, Brave, Ulysses, and Rody to name a few.  Meanwhile we're all cooing over our puppy. 

"Oh!  He just breathed!  He's so cute!" exclaimed Emma. 

"Look he yawned!"

"Look at his tail!"

Look look look look!!!!!!!! 

After a full day of play, we settle into our beds for a long winter's nap.  The puppy sleeps in a card board box beside emma's bed.  Emma lays her hand in the box so he can feel safe.  The house is quiet and all drift to sleep.


The dog is still not named. He's currently sleeping in his cage.  Last night we had our friends over who have three little kids.  He got alot of attention and is now exhausted.  I still can't believe that he's mine.  I still can't believe how adorable he is.  I'll try to get a picture of him uploaded to my computer but until then, here's what he looks like....

             


.....Except he's way cuter. :)

Brown Bears, Rain, and Sunshine

I love it when it rains.  The sky clouds up, the streets shimmer as they reflect the lights of cars sloshing through the puddles, and the world becomes small for a while.  The light drifting through the windows is soft and pearly.  My house suddenly becomes a cosy sleepy place.  Kind of like the Napping House "where everyone is sleeping."  I am rarely in a bad mood when it rains.  Instead, I am sleepy and content, like a fat brown bear ready for winter.  Why should I be angry?  I am going to sleep now.  Anger would inhibit sleep. 

I realized the other day that it's kind of wierd that I like rain.  Most people hate it.  I mean after all, it makes it impossible to go anywhere without getting wet.  But I relish the wetness of it.  Sometimes, when sheets of rain are pouring down, I'll slip outside and let the rain saturate my being.  In a chaotic sort of insanity, I will laugh and run and shout as I become totally drenched.  It reminds me of that song by Super chick called "Stand in the rain."  Here, I'll post it for you.

I think that one of the reasons I love rain so much is because I can't control it.  As I stand there, getting wetter by the second, I am letting go.  I am letting go of my dryness.  It's like letting go of my selfconciosness.  I stand in the rain, I stand up as everything around me is crashing down.  The rain washes away all of my worries, all of my doubts, and all of me. 

It's like what Dory on Finding Nemo says; "It's time to let go!"  I think we should all stand in the rain more often.  Figuratively anyway.  We could all stand to let go of ourselves.  To stop thinking about what we think matters and start prayin about what God says matters. As the thunder rollls, and the lightning tries to break the sky, I will stand there, letting go of myself.  Letting go of who I want to be.  When the storm is over, I will be a new person.  I will peel off my wet clothes, and I will put on a soft warm suit. 

After a storm,  the world becomes beautiful.  The grass is greener, the dirt is richer, the birds sing sweeter, and the sun shines brighter.  There is a sense of exitement.  It's like the brown bear in me wakes up and sees a big pot of honey in front of him.  Suddenly, the world is full of sweet and inticing possibilities.  The world becomes "a new creation" and a new place for us to explore.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

      Most people hold that Christmas vacation started this past Saturday.  I, however, say that it begins today because this is the first day where children all over the U.S. actually feel a difference in their school week-day routine.  See, children would always have the weeked to do as they please, but Monday is usually spent in school.  That is why I look at today as the first official day of Christmas vacation. 
     

      To kick off the holiday vacation, I'm going to post this video.  If you watched American Idol last year, then you are well aware of the played up romance between Casey Abrams and Haley Reinhart.  If you didn't watch it last year, well then now you know.  Besides having similar voices, Haley and Casey are almost polar opposites.  Haley is a beautiful saucy, confidant woman in her early twenties and Casey is a big bear of a man with a beard that Santa would be proud of.  Casey, is also timid at times and doesn't really get how incredible of a singer he is.  Despite their differences, when these two meet, some chemical reaction magically measures out perfect.  Below is the reult of their mixing. 

 In my opinion, this the best version of this song.  Ever!

What did you think?

Beauty

      In this world, we don't take enough time to think about beauty.  When I say "beauty,"  I'm talking about raw, untouched beauty.  I'm talking about the beauty in the tranquil waters of the pacific, spreading over a white sanned beach.  I'm talking about the beauty in a thunderstorm.  I'm talking about the beauty in a a sky so blue it makes you hurt.  I'm talking about the beauty in a newborn babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. 

      We are surrounded with incredibly beautiful things.  The other night, I was in the car, traveling home with my mom and sister.  As we passed through the thick darkness that was penetrated by street lights, I was overcome by the beauty that I saw everywhere.  My heart skipped and jumped inside me as I looked at the city lights, mirrored in the black water of the bay, the moon hiding in the clouds, and the stars twinkling at the people below.  I couldn't stop exclaiming over everything I saw.  I couldn't contain the joy I felt at the beautiful world around me.  So, I've decided that this whole post is going to give you pieces of beauty.  I will list things that I think are beautiful and post pictures to prove my point.  

      I know I just talked about city light on water.  But honestly, isn't this amazing?  There is something so romantic, so idylic, and so perfect about rivers at night.  I'm not the only one to notice the beauty of water at night either.  Taylor swift has a line in one of her songs where she mentions "All of the city lights on the water."  I like to look down into the water and see the world refelcting in it's depths.  It's like there's a whole other world down there; sort of like on Pirates of the Carribean :).  If I ever get married, I think my wedding will be held at night on a river boat. 

      Babies do something to my soul.  They are so trusting, so innocent, and so uncorrupted (if that's a word).  When I hold a baby in my arms, I am holding the future.  As I examine her fat little toes, I am overcome by the fact that only a few months before, she didn't even exist.  Babies are small, soft little miracles, and if miracles aren't beautiful, then I don't know what is.

      Rainy, snowy, sunny, or cloudy; the sky never ceases to amaze me.  Sometimes I stare at the sky so much that I get dizzy.  It's so huge!  I feel so small and insignificant when I look at the sky.  Words cannot describe the awesomeness of it.  I litterally can't breathe when I look at the sky.

  Have you ever looked at a flower up close?  The delicate beauty of them is  facinating, and easy to miss.  Even flowers that get labled as "weeds"  (dandelions)  are still carefully detailed.  The bright pink one (above) with the purple center looks like a little play pen :). 





Ahhh  the northern lights; facinating really. According to howstuffworks.com, the northern ligths occur when solar winds from the sun speed towards earth and follow the earth's magnetic field to the poles.  The solar winds then come in contact with the earth's atmosphere and this is the reult of their union. 




      There are countless other beautiful things in the world but to put them all on this post would over load my blog.  So I'm going to end with this picture.  Isn't this just the prettiest "giant blueberry" that you've ever seen? (Haha! unintentional Rocket Man quote!)   

 

Getting By

      Finally, I have time to write, to think, and to invent.  After a week of essays, history questions, algebra equations, Spanish words, and deffinitions, I am ready for the weekend.  These past couple of days have given me time to consider what to write about.  My mind is awash with hundreds of ideas.  Now, It's time to close my eyes and reach into the hat. 
     

      I realized recently that I don't think about God much.  I know he's there, and I know that the only reason that I'm even here is because of him, but honestly, there are days when I don't even give him a thought.  As my good friend Stef likes to say, "It's another one of those 'hate' things in the love-hate relationship I have with myself."  In my spare time, I watch my favorite TV show (Psych for instance) or do something creative like play the piano.  I never think "oh when I'm done with this I'm gonna go talk to God!" 

     

      My pastor once admitted that he can "get by just fine without God."  I totally get what he's saying.  I can live just fine without giving the creator of the universe so much as a wave.   But the thing is, that "getting by" without God isn't really living.  I might be doing fine out wardly.  I might have friends, a job, and a great family.  I might look like a cool, fun, happy person. But inside, I am a mess.  I am a sick imitation of what God wants me to be. 

      My indifference for God is ironic since testimonials to his greatness are everywhere.  After all, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands" (Psalms 19:1).   Just look at the sky and it's obvious that we have a creator who wants us to see his handiwork. 

Yah, I agree with the author of Romans (Paul is it?); "Men are without excuse" (Romans 1:20).

      When I think about how much God loves me.. and how much I ignore God... I feel extreemly humbled.  Why does he bless me?  Why does he care about this insignificant, snotty little girl?  Why does he continue to pick me up when I fall down?  Why does he listen to my prayers?  Why does he let me live?  Why??????
I think it's one of those mysteries.  It's one of those things that I won't understand until I stand face to face with my creator.

     

Tunes Across The Pond

      I love music.  But then, doesn't everyone?  I mean, you never hear anyone badmouth music.  I've heard people vehemently appose certain genres of music (like country, people are always hating on country music), but never music in general. 

      I will listen to pretty much anything.  When I am introduced to a new music genre and I happen to like it, I go crazy over it.  I start stalking musicians who sing in that genre and play it in my room constantly. 
      Last summer, a good friend of mine opened my eyes to the world of British Pop.  I instantly fell in love with the dry, witty British humor and the pumpy beats.  There is something about British culture that intriuges me.  They're classy yet edgy with everything they do.  Their music is no exception. My favorite Brit artist so far is Kate Nash.  Her lyrics are literally "laugh out loud funny" if you'll excuse my use of movie critique lingo.  Every one of her songs has something surprisingly comical.  Here's an example of the matchless humor of the british;
    
      "You say I must eat so many lemons, 'cause I am so bitter.  I say I'd rather be with your friend's mate, cause they are much fitter."  
     
      This particular line comes from her song "Foundations".  I will not be posting this song because it has some language in it and I like to keep my blog posts clean.  However, I will post "pumpkin soup" which is another one of my favorites and is clean. 

 



      You like?  I thought so.  This is a great running song.  It's also a great roll-down-your-car windows- while-your-driving-with-your-friends-and-sing-out loud-song. 
      My all time favorite song by Miss Nash is "Merry Happy."  It's one of those songs that just makes you happy.  I picture the color yellow when I hear it.  I'm not sure why. 

      I mean really?  Who sings about this kind of stuff?  Who makes a song about getting checked out?  The answer is, the British! Those Brits are happy, fun-loving people.  Most popular American singers sing about broken hearts and other depressing stuff.  The British, on the other hand, sing about how quirky life is. 
      I hope you enjoyed these songs enough to go and Google British Pop!  Thanks for reading :). 

Why Parents Are Crazy

      A girl is sitting quietly in the corner of the room with the family lap top, typing up a blog post.  Suddenly, her father walks into the room and starts to sing the star spangled banner to the wall.  She keeps typing, over looking this interesting turn.  Then the father starts to talk. 
     "See, I can actually sing when there is an echo coming back at me and I can hear myself." 
      The obvious response?  "Dad, you're crazy."
     
      The boy is walking away from a conversation with his parents reguarding facebook.  Everybody's doing it and it's perfectly safe but will they let him get one? No. So,  he mutters under his breath, "They're crazy!"

      "You need to get out of the house and spend time with other kids." Says the mother to her daughter. 
      "Well, there's a girl my age who moved in down the street.  Could you take me to meet her?"   The young girl asks.
      "No, wait until Christmas is over." 
      "But you just said..."
      The mother is already walking away.  The girl mutters, "She is crazy!" 

      Any of these scenarios look familiar?  I thought so.  For centuries children have been calling their parents crazy.  Children hardly ever try to understand their parents.  They just lable them as "weird" and move on with their life.  But why are parents crazy?  Well, it occured to me today that they are crazy because of the children they must raise. 
      Raising a child is like raising a sweet innocent puppy that later morfs into a terrifying Rug Ratz doll that later grows up to become a self-oriented Bratz doll.  Children are independent, stubborn, bratty, and sarcastic.  Just think about some of the things that you've said and done. 
      Parents are constantly faced with worries.  What if they're a bad parent and the choices that they make scar their child for life?  What if the child grows up to be another Hitler?  Then there's the problem of imitation.  Children are constantly imitating things that their parents say.  Sometimes the things that children repeat are embarrassing. 
      Children grow up and form their own opinions.  I know I have!  Parent's have to listen to, and often correct, these new opinions.  They try to explain why their child is wrong.  The child argues that she is right.  They go back and forth until the parent is so confused that he doesn't even know if he's right or not. 
      Parent's are responsible for the lives of their children.  They have to make sure that they don't do something stupid and die.  I'm constantly doing dumb things.  It's a wonder I'm even alive.  The problem is that we want to to do increasingly dangerous things as we get older.  This drives our parents nuts. 
      So, next time that you're tempted to inform your parents of their insanity, think again.  They sacrificed their sanity for you.  So try to be sensitive. :)

Expressions

      Expression is what every human must do at some point. 
      There are no rules when it comes to expression.  It can be singing or writing a song, it can be inventing poetry, it can be dance, it can be painting, it can be decorating, it can even be reorganizing your room.
      Sometimes, expression can take on monumental sizes.  For example; the Pyramids and the Great Wall of China.  These are testimonials to the ingenuity of the Egyptian and Chinese people.  At other times, expression is so minute that no one even knows that it's there.
      So it is with this blog.  I don't know if anyone will even notice it, but that's ok because this is my way of expressing.  This is my corner of the world where I write about my thoughts, my beliefs, and my passions. 
      I'm not an incredibly interesting person.  I like to play the piano, but I'm no Mozart.  I play for me...and my mother :).  I enjoy Irish dance, but I've never achieved any ridiculously amazing placings.  I also occasionally like to make art, however I don't do it very often.  I'm just an average girl who happens to be lucky enough to have friends, an encouraging family, and a wondrous God. 
    Originally, I was going to call this blog "A collage wrapped up in a puzzle."  Unfortunately, no one understood what it meant.  So, I changed it to what is now at the top of my blog.  I'm still partial to my old name.  So I'm going to talk about it. 
      See, life is a collage and a puzzle.  Since everyone has found a way to express, the world is full of different ideas, art forms, and styles.  To God, we probably look like a giant, very colorful, collage.  However, just like any good collage, there must be some method to the madness.  Therefore, God, in his sovereighnity, has found a way to arrange us all.  He has shaped us so that we all have certain places where we belong.   I look at God as the Great Puzzle Maker. 
      There is more to it though.  Over seventy names for God exist.  He is a father, a comforter, a friend, a stone wall in times of danger, a listener, and many other things.  Our human minds cannot even begin to fathom his complex nature.  Therefore, to us God is the Great puzzle. 
      Finally, I look at my self as a collage and a puzzle.  I am a mesh of ideas, emotions, and personalities.   This is probably due to my upbringing as a military child (I've lived in six different states).  Also, I am a bit of a mutt when it comes to my race. I'm Welsh, French-Canadian, possibly Native American, Swedish, Scotch-Irish, German, and Italian. I might even be missing a few in there but you get the idea. I'm a big collage. 
      I'm living in a collage.  It's the world that has been created for me and the world that I have helped to create.  If you find that my blog posts tend to be incredibly diverse from each other.  That is because I am diverse.  This is my blog.  This is me.