Okay now I'm going to my dad's for the weekend so I won't be posting for a couple days, but I'm gonna take a whole bunch of looseleaf and a pen and with any luck the change of scenery will kickstart my brain into picking up again on that story I've been working on.

So catch ya later.

So I'm sitting here staring at the screen wondering what I'll write tonight, when Clark, sitting behind me on the couch, smacks me with the tv remote. I turn around and I see she's on the phone, rolling her eyes.

Me: Who is it?
Clark: Mastercard
Hang up
She says nothing.
Why can't you hang up on them? Thinking it was an automated call.
No, I'm not interested Into the phone.
A brief silence.
Honestly, because I'm tired of listening to you talk...
cracking up laughing
No it's not you, it's just that I've gotten about eight of these calls in the last 3 days and I'm sick of it.
Another pause.
Yes I know you're paid to do this and I hope you enjoy your job but I'm just not interested.
Yet another pause.
No, I'm not inter-
Click. To the sound of our laughter.

And that, my friends, is how it's done.

I just found this. I think it's wicked.

There's no sound on earth as lonely to me as the sound of Canadian Geese flying south in the fall.

They go honking overhead, sometimes in 3's, sometimes in 5's, sometimes in massive flocks you can hear long before they arrive. Sometimes a single goose comes along, silent, striving against the wind. The sight is always enough to make me cry. As if it's not bad enough that they're all going away, laughing at me cuz I can't go with them, but now they've left that one to fly all alone.

Oh, sure, he'll get as far as the Mint (the oddly shaped coin plant at the south of the city) where thousands and thousands of geese gather each year before starting the long push south. When he lands on the vast lawn amidst all those geese, he's sure to make some friends and he won't fly any farther without company. In the mean time, however, the sight of him struggling along over my head while I walk from building to building just makes me sad.

Couple other goose stories. When I was in bible school I found myself in a vehicle with four other students driving back east to winnipeg...... and I looked out the window and spotted some geese flying north. I thought, wait, it's october, and without another thought I blurted out, "Those geese are flying the wrong way."

Of course the others hadn't noticed the geese, and thought it was odd that I would, never mind which direction they were flying in relation to the season, and since the school year had barely begun and I hadn't yet adjusted the sound of my own voice, they thought was even more odd that I had spoken.

Even earlier in my life, I spent a summer camping every weekend in Minnesota, at a christian retreat. I got to know the regulars and they became like family to me. Especially one couple, Rick and Gloria, who checked on me when the weather was bad and had me over for dinner. I'd have eaten nothing but beans that summer, were it not for their pizza and corn on the cob.

On the last weekend of the season, Rick was out alone, and winterizing his trailer, as well as his pastor's trailer, at the next site. He invited me to help him out. So we winterized the trailers and then went to the store to get a frozen pizza. We sat in the trailer eating pizza and nachos with salsa, just cracking jokes and having a good time. I can't describe the relationship we had.... at that point it was the closest thing to having a father I could remember. We were tight, we went for drives, just hung out all the time.

I felt the chill of the wind and heard some canadian geese overhead, and I said, "Those geese fly south every winter.... they spend as much time in the US as they do in Canada...... so why are they called Canadian geese?"

He got this funny look in his eye and I knew what was coming. "It's because of the sound they make when they fly overhead," he said, "Eh, Eh, Eh."

We parted ways that weekend and I cried like I hadn't in a very long time. I never saw him again. I wonder if I ever will.

I don't know what's wrong with me, I just haven't had anything to say..... I could make something up but really and truly my mind is absorbed in "The Lord of the Rings" which I've been reading. Perhaps I should just expound on a couple things I've been reading, which I've been hesitant to do since I'm sure you've all read it before, and I'm the only one in the world to whom this is new to.

Frodo's "still in love with the shire" reminds me of myself. I'm in love with the shire too. That is, I'm in love with a life dedicated to my own comfort. As much as I long for adventure, it's hard to drag myself away from the parameters I've set for my world. I like my space, I like determining what will hang on the wall for me to look at, what self centered activity I'll pursue each evening.

I think that if I was hanging out anywhere in middle earth, based on what I've read so far, I'd be with Tom Bombadil in the Old Forest.... hell, I'd be Tom Bombadil, except I wouldn't be called that. I'd be Little Bear. If I wasn't in the Old Forsest, I'd be in Lothlorien, where I could live high up in the trees, which is where I've always wanted to live anyways, although the elves there seem a little too serious for my liking.

I'm finding as I read the book that I understand clearer what the One Ring is all about, and I don't really think that the movie did a great job of explaining it. I suppose that most people have read the book, so we're expected to get it. The movie implies that all the rings were made by Sauron when in actuality, the three rings given to the Elf Lords were made by elvin-smiths and are not directly under the power the One Ring.

People had been talking (primarily, christians were talking) about all the christian analogies that Tolkien had supposedly woven into his story, though I've heard quite the opposite. And I must say, that while I can pull an analogy out of just about any isolated scenario, the Lord of the Rings as a whole doesn't seem to me to have much to do with God or Jesus, as much as it does with an apocalyptic battle between good and evil. I guess christians want to justify how they can watch all those demonic looking orcs and immerse themself in this magical alternate universe, if they can say "it's a picture of christianity" then they don't have to deal with the fact that their theology makes wizards out to be evil.

That's fine..... it's all just fantasy right? Gandalf's a good guy, even though he's magical, and this can be true because he's not real. It doesn't have to be an analogy. I think the same thing when I hear christians running around saying that their favorite band is christian, just undercover. Those are usually the people who only buy christian music, but now they've found something they like and feel too guilty to buy it unless they can justify it somehow, by saying the band is christian, even though it's on the secular market.

It's good music or it isn't. Non christians have good stuff to say and great music to make, and enough money to produce it properly. Go ahead and judge the quality of the music, but I don't believe any human has the right or the qualifications to decide which people are christians or which are not. Or should I say, which humans have obtained relationship with God. I don't even know what "christian" means anymore. I know what it's supposed to mean...... but then, things don't always work out the way they're supposed to.

For example, black riders are roaming the free countries of the north in an attempt to kill a young hobbit and take from him the ring that will enable the single most evil force in Middle Earth to cover the land with darkness and evil, while his filth bred orcs pillage and destroy all that is green and good.

And what will the christians think when they find it was a scared little hobbit, and not themselves, that brought that ring to the cracks of doom?

I've just totally merged two completely different tangents. That was fun though, wasn't it?? See if you can make any sense of it. I'm gonna get back to my book.

Today an injured bird died in my care. I was sad. I even tried praying for it but apparently I don't have "healing hands" so the sparrow paid the price.

Forfeited supper to work overtime downtown in a very tall building. I guess now I should open a can of beans. I'm tired...... my evening's been stolen from me. I want tea. I think I'll fall asleep on the couch today. Clark, wake me up when you get home.

I'm sorry guys. I have nothing today. Nothing at all. Nada. Zilch. I'd love to say something that would make your life better but for the life of me, all I can think about is food and Lord of the Rings.

So I'll see you tomorrow then.

I ran into an old friend (well, young friend, but longstanding) at church today, and pulled her into the lobby so we could get reacquainted.

After the usual long time no see chit chat she asks me, "so..... are there any boys?" To which I respond, "uh..... no."

Sensing my hesitation, she says, "no?" and I reply "well..... I mean..... there's boys" rolling my eyes, "but no. If you catch my drift."

"yeah," she says, "I got ya."

Funny, cuz that question always arrives with frightening predictability, and I know what people mean when they ask it, but it means nothing to me. Some days I wish I had more to say than 'no' but then the way my skin has been breaking out as of late indicates a chemical imbalance in my otherwise post adolescent body.

The doggers likes it when I make farting sounds with my mouth. On another note, I'm undergoing indecision and turmoil regarding my church's women's retreat at the end of this month. On the one hand, I can't afford it, not even a little bit..... on the other hand, I can request assistance and go anyways..... on the other hand, I'm not poor so much as I suck at managing money...... on the other hand, if people are willing to help me out..... on the other hand, too many strangers for too many days in a row...... on the other hand, it would probably be good for me..... on the other hand...... but what about....... and even if......

Maybe I'm a little concerned about being the only early twenties single childless tomboy there..... older women just love to pray for me that God would "affirm my femininity" and all that jazz, and I don't hold it against them cuz they can't possibly know where I'm coming from, but Jeez, do I ever hate that feeling like everyone just can't wait to call down the Holy Spirit on this poor hapless kid.

All of which I know is just a load of........ stuff.

My weekend of justified idleness (is that a word?) is nearly over which means I'm gonna have to sleep in my bed again. I should just move my alarm clock down here, then it wouldn't matter if I fell asleep on the couch. And I'd probably wake up when clark came home, and then we'd yak a bit, and then she'd get on the puter and I'd fall back asleep like the corpse that I am.

On the other hand, maybe I'll just polish off the last of the pepsi so I can go back to my otherwise caffeine free (translate: dreary) existence and then get back to my snuggly bed with the snuggly blanket with the bears on it.

Maybe if I replace my bed with a futon and get a little tv in my room, every night can be as glorious as passing out in the basement.

Dude I feel bloated.