Baking for the Birds

     I basically forgot that I have this blog. I'm only writing today because 1. I'm on Spring Break and 2. I want to record/share a recipe I just made for the birds.
    Let me back up a bit. I own a blue and gold macaw and my boyfriend owns a Hyacinth macaw. My friend, Laura, gave me a recipe for bird bread and I finally had time to make it. I adjusted it for what I already had on hand because I just don't have extra money right now. It smells a little funny but my bird really likes it. Friday, the Hyacinth, picked it up and dropped it on the floor. :/ We'll see if she'll eat it later when she isn't so grumpy.

Birdie Bread

Here's the recipe if you would like to try it. I started with Laura's recipe that she based off of this site: Carol's Bird Bread

Clare's Birdie Bread
1 cup pulverized pellets
3 over ripe bananas
3/4 cup milk
2 whole eggs (with shells)
1 large tablespoon peanut butter
1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix
Handful of mixed nuts

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit

2. This step is the fun one! Smash bird food pellets into a dust, if possible. I didn't have a pestle and mortar so I put the food in a Ziploc bag and smashed the food with a rubber mallet. Yes, I don't even own a meat tenderizer.
3. In a large bowl, mash bananas as much as possible. Add two whole eggs and crack the shells into small pieces. Add the rest of the ingredients and blend thoroughly.
4. Spray a 2 quart glass dish (mine is 8"x11"x2") lightly with Pam. Pour batter into dish and spread evenly. Bake for 35 minutes.
5. Cut into bread to make sure it is done. Let cool before serving to your feather friend. Label leftovers so that no human accidentally eats it!

On Panic

About once a year I have a panic attack. Last year it was because my dog got out and was running on busy streets. Since this happened less than a month after learning that my previous dog was hit by a car, I was unable to control the stress of the situation. Today, the near-attack came from school work. I was writing two papers and studying for a final for Wednesday. On a whim, I checked the date all of this is due. I was wrong. Tomorrow I have to turn-in the papers and take the final exam. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I had a lot of notes and bookmarks for quotes but very little actually written. The final exam? It was barely on my radar. I then realized that I had twenty hours to write as many pages, study for a final, and try to squeeze in some shut eye. My breathing became shallower, my heart rate faster and my brain felt like it had been hit by lightening. I tried to work and control my breathing. After forty minutes, I knew that I could not control my reaction any longer. I called my boyfriend. I was able to get me breathing more regularly and promised to come over straight from work. Those ten minutes seemed like an hour. I just laid in my bed and fought the fits of fear and tears that accompanied them. I was breathing normally when my boyfriend came in. Unfortunately, that caused all of my emotions to spill over again. By 5 o'clock, he had given me a game plan for the next twenty-four hours. There would be a lot of writing and the minimal amount of sleep. Oh, and there would be cups upon cups of caffeine.

I know that all of this would have gone differently if I did not have him near me. Last year, I had to go to the hospital because nothing and no one could get me breathing slowly. Now, I just need to hear his voice. He is helping me control my anxiety better than any doctor has. I cannot tell him often enough how thankful I am to have him in my life. Yes, I get frustrated when he is forgetful and I go nuts when he drives too aggressively. However, those things are just molehills compared to the mountains of laughter and joy we share. No one else understands how I believe religion, science, and my life are carefully intertwined. No one else, other than colleagues, will listen to me go off on my ineffable connection to Spain or my love for a story I just read. No one else would understand why I need to write this entry before I can finish my essays. I just hope, and pray, that I never forget how much he means to me.

Más estrellas que en el cielo

I just finished reading this short story for a class on modern Latin American literature. My professor has a set of, oh, a dozen questions that we must answer for each piece we read. This particular cuento is giving me some trouble. I enjoyed it but I cannot say that I understand it. What is the conflict? Who is the protagonist? I am starting to think that the protagonist is actually a character that does not have a lot of "screen time", shall we say. However, he is the character that causes the action. The conflict is difficult to vocalize. It is similar to the struggle of an immigrant but without the connotation that the word "immigrant" has. It seems to me to be the opposite of a line in the Bible: "A prophet is not without honor, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house." (Mark 6:4) In this story at Denny's, we see that U.S. Americans do not understand the value of Latin Americans and their homes. It is only in Latin America that Latin Americans are understood. In the U.S., the average Joe thinks that anyone with almond-colored skin is from Mexico or Puerto Rico and they must be a custodian, chauffer, housekeeper, or nanny. We forget about Gabriel García Márquez, Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, Fernando Botero, and Simón Bolivar. That's just naming the first few that come to mind. Why don't we appreciate their culture and history? Why are we so blind to the beauty that has come from Mexico all the way to Argentina?

Native Speaker

I watched the most recent episode of Glee last night and it actually got me thinking about something other than Broadway. There was a character who was a Spanish teacher at night school and was also a native speaker. Throughout the episode multiple people mentioned the fact that he was a native speaking teacher. They seemed to infer that this was a very desirable quality. They never mentioned if his students understood spoken or written Spanish. They never showed his students speaking in the target language. However, the high school students wanted him to be the new Spanish teacher for two reasons only: he is handsome and he is a native speaker. Now, I understand that the current teacher in the show does not speak Spanish well at all. But what about those of us who have dedicated years to learning a language and culture? If I had been the high school teacher would everyone be as eager to give me the boot just to get Ricky Martin? (Yes, I also realize that he can sing better than I can.)

To top things off, I heard something similar on the local radio yesterday morning. The county community college had a representative discussing the interesting classes that are open to anyone. The woman made sure that the audience understood that all of the foreign language classes are taught by a native speaker. First of all, I highly doubt that is true. Secondly, why does it matter? Shouldn't she have mentioned that they are all bilingual or have many years experience in the class room? I feel like there are many other traits that would reel-in people.

Now I can't help but wonder if this is how school districts feel. If I plan to be a high school Spanish teacher, am I going to have to worry that someone will be chosen over me because they are a native speaker? Is this trait more important than experience or training? If that is the way things are then maybe I now have a valid excuse to move to Spain to teach English.

Life is like the surf . . .

I sometimes forget that I have such amazing people in my life that want to help me.  I blame my pride. As a child I was always told that I can do anything. My parents never did my homework. Yes, I never earned an 'A' on a science fair project but I learned so much. However, this self-esteem has brought with it an ugly friend. Since I believe that I can do anything that I put my mind to, I hate asking for help. I don't want to look like I'm lazy or stupid. I am starting to realize that asking for help is not lazy nor stupid. It is a proactive way to find your path again. Trying to do everything by yourself is just too stressful. I've been juggling too many balls lately and I even had a couple of panic attacks in the past few months. If I had opened my eyes I would have seen that everyone was behind me, supporting me.

Another problem is that I can be a perfectionist. I spend too much time on details that, in the end, do not matter. I follow recipes to the t. Even as a child I don't recall every coloring outside of the lines. I prefer things to be congruent, balanced, and even. Now, at twenty-four, I am seeing that I am setting up myself for failure. I've known for a long time that life is messy. That might be why I like to organize everything. It gives me a sense of control over my path. Like oil and water, my habits don't  mesh with Fate's plans for me. Yes, being organized is great. Yes, I am rarely late to anything. Is it worth the extra stress to be early with an ironed blouse, shaved legs, and just the right amount of jewelry? I thought so but my mind is changing. The world isn't going to stop if I'm a little late. I will survive if I change a recipe and it tastes awful. The science experiment might literally blow up in my face. Thinking back I realize that some of my favorite moments in life were spontaneous and done on a whim. I live in a comfortable house in a nice neighborhood thanks to a gut feeling. I've been to the Branch Davidian complex at midnight on Halloween just to scare myself. I learned how to build a picnic table with my boyfriend just because we wanted to build something. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need to ignore my urge to plan everything and just go with the flow. I'll survive with my friends by my side.

-"Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea." -Y Tu Mamá También

Life, the Universe, Everthing

Well, I'm trying to finish up a section of my thesis to send off to my thesis director. I'm so distracted by so many things. I have dirty dishes in the sink, loud neighbors, loud neighbors' loud dogs, and trying to figure out how to have Christmas with two families. I have an ill family member, teacher evaluations (for me), and filing to do. I have meals to plan, groceries to buy, and dinners to cook. What is funny about all of this is that the one person that keeps me from going insane is also usually the one person that stresses me the most. I honestly believe that it's part of loving someone. No one is perfect so you have to deal with the small annoyances to get to the great person. There are so many cliches that are popping into my head: If you can't beat them, join them; something about lumps in mashed potatoes; I'm only human. Yeah, my mind isn't working very well if you can't tell. That's why I'm writing here for a moment instead of on my thesis. I would hate for writing this cruddy to end up on my thesis.

I had a brilliant moment the other day with my thesis. My dad was able to help me out and find a book that I really needed but could only seem to find in far away cities. Tomorrow I'll have a photocopy of the section I need. I'm really excited to sit down and read it.

I don't have much else to report. I'm excited for Christmas but not excited for having to drive a few hundred miles in a matter of a week. My birthday is also coming up and I have completely forgotten to plan anything. This is fairly common since my birthday is so close to Christmas and New Year.

I should get back to the important writing. It may be cruddy but that's better than blank pages. I might delete this post later. The writing is just horrid.

On Car Maintanence

Ever since my sister JM got her car, I have enjoyed working on cars. She let me help change oil, change tires, and other little repairs. I say "work on cars" in a very loose way. The most complicated thing I've done was to change the cabin air filter. On my car, this would normally be a five minute job. Oh, but the town I live in doesn't seem to appreciate my Korean-born car. I was smart enough to look-up the part number that I needed and go to the closest car part store. I was a little upset that they didn't have it but I thought, "I'll just go to their other location a couple of miles away." Luckily, I was smart enough to ask an employee if he could check the availability before I left. That particular store doesn't carry the part . . . in any of their stores nation-wide. Yes, it was on the web site but that was only for those who wanted it special ordered. Ha! I wasn't going to fall for that money hole so I set off to go to their competitor.

 After checking their telephone book-like guide on proper parts for every car known to man, I began my search on the shelves. Lo and behold, they had none. I did not even bother to ask if another branch had it. I moved to my last resort, my personal hell: the ever-overcrowded Wal-Mart (God help my soul). After looking through their manuals and finding blank spaces for "cabin air filter", I simply asked an employee. No Wal-Mart in the United Freaking States of America has my filter in stock. They do not even do special orders. At this point you must think I own an Opal or a 1969 Mustang *drool*. Nope. I drive a Kia Spectra. It may not be as popular as Honda but it was not specially shipped here just for me.

I ended my search and just went home. I thanked God for online shopping until I actually started shopping. Amazon.com sells two brands of filters that fit my car. One costs twelve dollars but would take a month to arrive. The other costs eighteen but I could get it in a matter of days. I chose the more expensive in hopes that I might get it before the weekend. All in all, I suppose all of the insanity was worth it just to avoid a $55 bill to have a professional do it.

Stop looking so smug. I hate your perfectly white fibers.

A new church

I'm not known to be someone who purposefully goes past her comfort level. This is true with religion and, more specifically, where I attend church services. I have been going to the same type of church my entire life. I was born and raised in one sect of Christianity and have only been to a handful of services for different types of Christianity. As I meet more Christians, my ideas about Christianity have changed slightly. I have realized that all of these different sects of Christianity are not, for the most part, very different from each other. Yes, services can be incredibly varied from church to church but the underlying command never changes: love.

Yesterday was my first time to go to a Sunday service at a church that falls into the same traditions with which my boyfriend grew up knowing. The only things that I found different were the music and the congregation. Some of the music was not what I prefer for Sunday service. However, I did enjoy the challenge to sight sing music with complex melodies. It has been a long time since I have seen a 6/8 time signature. The music wasn't what caught my attention though.

I have never met a group of such outgoing people in a church. It seemed that almost everyone wanted to introduce themselves to us and welcome us personally to their church. No one tried to push us into joining, donating money, or taking part in their ministries. They simply expressed their happiness to meet us and their hope that they would see us again. What actually shocked me was that not a soul found it odd that I was not the same type of Christian as them and that I have no plans of changing that. I learned that this church had Baptists, Lutherans, Roman Catholics, Methodists, etc and it didn't matter. My boyfriend and I agreed that these Christians seem to look at our religion in the same light. We may give ourselves different names for what we believe but that's not what matters. In the end, we all were there to praise God, learn how to love, and to support each other. This is a church that seems to have the message right: love God, follow his laws, and love each other. The rest will come along naturally.

On the Death of Pets

Pets have always been like part of the family for me. It's hard to describe their place but it is definitely there. I cannot explain to people who don't have pets what it feels like when one passes. This animal that you have raised and cared for is suddenly gone. Although they are just furry little creatures they always seem able to burrow their way into my heart. I can have an animal in my life for months or for years but it always hurts when I have to say good-bye. Maybe my problem is that I get too attached too quickly. Then again, I think that it might be my best attribute. I have always seen animals as a beautiful part of our world and it's hard to see part of that beauty leave.

Human Drama

I live on a fairly busy one-way street. Every now and then I see car accidents outside of my window. Today was one of those days. My boyfriend shouted at me from across the house that there had been a car accident and one car had flipped and was pinned between the light pole and the car below it. He grabbed his shoes and was leaving when I told him I would call 911. Since he has some medical training, he went straight to the scene. Since I don't have as much control of my emotions when emergencies happen, I went down the street. I stood in the middle of the road and directed traffic away from the accident. About 15 minutes later, a police car drove up and parked across the two lanes of the road. He quickly thanked me and I went back to the house (toward the accident). From my front yard, I searched for my boyfriend in the crowd and saw that he was still assisting people. I then noticed the crowd.

You see, while directing traffic, I noticed a few people on foot walking toward the accident. This is nothing extraordinary because there is a grocery store near there. It wasn't until I was entering my house that I noticed that the same people whom I had assumed were going to the grocery store were standing on the corner staring at the emergency team and the wreck. They had not witnessed the accident. They were not calming down the victims or helping in any way. They were just watching. It makes me feel sick. When I was 10 years old, I was in a car accident with my mom. We were on a busy road early in the evening. I watched as cars in the other lane slowed down to look at me, the totaled minivan, the other car, and, worst of all, my mom being put on a stretcher. I was doing my best to stay composed until my dad arrived. The medics and police were wonderful. The medic who drove the ambulance let me sit in the front seat and chatted with me. However, I couldn't help but see out of the corner of my eye those cars. They weren't trying to pass, they intended to stop and see what had happened.

Why do people think that this is an acceptable response to an accident? Those people they are watching aren't actors. This is a real tragedy in the victims' lives and they want to treat it like a TV show. I hate it.

However, there is a silver lining. My boyfriend just informed me that there were also multiple people who immediately jumped out of their cars to help. A worker from the grocery store jumped into the flipped car without a second's hesitation. Even though the gas tank was leaking and had created a pool under one car, they were under and on the car trying to wrestle out the passengers before the weight of the car injured them further. In the end, there were no fatalities but more than one person will be staying in the hospital today. I just thank God that for all of those people who stop to stare, there are still many that will do everything they can to help.

"La Virgo María, madre del buen Criado"

I was re-reading Berceo's introduction to Milagros this morning. It's so beautiful. You think that he's just rambling about a beautiful prado where he rested under the shade of a tree. However, he is able to tie this beauty to Mary. He's thinking about how pilgrims love to find these meadows to rest. He then thinks about the devotion to Mary that these pilgrims, and really everyone, have. He talks about Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Saint Augustine, Gideon, David, and Aaron. They all were devoted to Mary. This veneration, obsession even, is nothing new.

I really must point out my favorite stanza. I will not translate it because I feel like I cannot truly capture the beauty of Berceo's writing.

Ella es dicha fuent     de qui todos bevemos,

ella nos dio el cevo     de qui todos comemos;

ella es dicha puerto     a qui todos corremos,

e puerta por la qual     entrada atendemos.

That stanza captures what Mary is to her children. Yes, Jesus saved mankind from Hell but he can feel so far away and too mighty for humans to be worthy of bothering him. Mary is humble, she is a mother. She is the font out of which sinners drink. She gives rest to the weary, possibly in a beautiful prado with perfumed flowers. She is the first step to God toward which people in medieval Spain went. They were comforted by the idea of such a perfect haven. Who wouldn't be? Berceo wrote these stories to continue a long standing tradition of telling tales of Mary and of attributing to her how simple men were able to survive the impossible. Sounds like a perfect reason to write if you ask me.

Vacation

My vacation for this Summer was this past weekend. Here's a quick run-down of what happened:

1. Sunday: Arrived safely at my parents' house with boyfriend and two dogs. Car receives a stain from a car-sick dog.
2. Monday: Accidentally soak my contacts lenses in a hydrogen peroxide solution. Able to rinse eyes in a timely manner.
3. Get plant killer in my eyes while helping my mom at her rental property. My boyfriend safely guided me to the water hose in time to rinse my eyes.
4. Do more yard work at the rental house and a little bit at my parents' house.
5. NAP
6. Enjoy evening spending time with my boyfriend and parents.
7. Tuesday: Start the day off at a waterpark!
8. About to leave waterpark for lunch when I realize I lost the canister holding my boyfriend's credit card and my keys.
9. Freak out.
10. Find out that a decent person found the canister and gave it to a lifeguard. Calm down.
11. Lunch at Sonic.
12. NAP
13. Putt-putt and arcade games with the boyfriend. I won putt-putt.
14. Guy on moped drives into the lobby of the arcade. We are the only two that seem to find this odd.
15. Wednesday: Awesome homemade breakfast cake. Finish tokens at arcade.
16. Find out that one dog had destroyed a pillow, a napkin, and vommitted twice on my parents' carpet.
17. Get home safely with one boyfriend, and two dogs. No new stains on the car. Hamster and fish survived a few days by themselves.

I've had enough excitement. Back to work on the thesis!

Mistakes

Having gotten to later miracles in Milagros de Nuestra Señora, I have found myself very wrong about a few things. Firstly, not all of the miracles have a male as a sinner. This makes the feminist in me very happy. However, I do have a few thoughts on the significance that miracle #21 has a pregnant religious woman. She is the sinner in that story. My modern mind doesn't like the fact that the man is not seen as a sinner. However, I can appreciate the fact that the woman had taken very specific vows of chastity. It still irks me slightly. Secondly, not all of those who find themselves receiving help from Mary are Christian. I don't know how I feel about this. Spain has had some anti-Semitic feelings for, well, most of its history. My gut reaction is to say that it is anti-Semitic because the author pins a Jew for sinning but then I realize that the author pins everyone for sinning. Using a Jew is just to illustrate one of the basic ideas of Milagros: everyone can be, and is, a sinner. Jews, Christians, men, women, priests, and nuns are all sinners.

Well, I need to finish up an annotated bibliography for tomorrow. It's the first one I've ever done. It's kind of a pain in the neck but I can definitely see the appeal. It's great to have a run down of books that could be useful for a paper (and why) and a list of books that have nothing to do with the paper. It's hard to really say which ones are "useful" right now because I'm still trying to figure out what exactly is my thesis. Then again, I think that's why I'm making an annotated bibliography. One of my former teachers advised us that we had to go through a lot of books and articles to get an inspiration for the paper and then we could think about our topic. We had to wade through books on Don Quixote and then, by reading some, find what interested us. Then we could go back and pick the books that discussed in detail the topic we had decided upon. That was the first teacher that ever told me how to start a research paper. I am very grateful for that lesson.

Mary: Defined by Men

While reading all of these books about Mary, I've noticed a pattern. She is always defined by her relationship with Jesus or Joseph. No one seems to want to talk about who she is; everyone talks about who she is to her family. Now, I do understand that when looking at the Bible there isn't a lot of information on Mary and that is understandable. The New Testament revolves around Jesus, as it should. However, why haven't people even speculated on Mary as an individual? Marianism is prevalent even today as you can see with the many religious orders devoted to her, the religious rituals around her, and even simply the prayer The Hail Mary. I have been told my whole life that I should imitate Mary and from that I have become a slight Marianist myself. However, I can't help but notice that other than the obvious wonderful qualities such as chastity, devotion to God, and humility, this seems to imply some qualities that I am not sure I really like. To be like Mary, do I also have to be defined by the men in my life? Do I have to be "Joseph's wife" and "Jesus' mother" and nothing else? I beg my readers to understand that I know these are wonderful and honorable titles. Being the mother of God incarnate is the highest honor for a woman. However, I feel like scholars have mostly ignored any other titles she bears. Even in Milagros she is looked at via her connection with a man. Look at her apparitions in Fátima, Portugal, Our Lady of Light, or in Lourdes, France. Why are we not truly amazed by these? Why are Christian children not taught this in Sunday school? It is so wonderful to me to hear of my religion being truly alive! Am I the only woman who feels that these apparitions by Our Mother are as significant to our religion as the work of the original apostles? I feel that the only reason they are not given as much respect is because they do not include a man.

It is these Marian apparitions that bring peace to me. She told Sister Agnes Sasagawa in Japan (1973) that "Those who place their confidence in me will be saved." Berceo certainly was thinking that when he was writing Milagros. Maybe Berceo helped boost the popularity of seeing Mary as a holy entity by herself. After the middle ages we seem to see more and more the works of Mary. Maybe while living in our world she was simply a servant of God, a woman devoted to the men of her family. But now, as part of the community of saints, she is Our Mother. She is loving and protecting us by herself just as every mother loves her children. Maybe we have seen her works more because we need to believe in her more. Maybe this world is searching for it's true mother and she is desperately trying to tell us that she has always been here.

A Feminist Mary

While at the library today, I had a pretty cool little thought about Mary (mom of Jesus, not Magdalene). In Milagros de Nuestra Señora, when we strip every story down to the basics, they always have  a woman (Mary) save a man (a sinner). Considering that this was written in medieval Spain, that's a pretty big deal. It has that feminist "anything you can do, I can do better" feel to it. Mary confronts Satan over the souls of these men and always wins. As my boyfriend pointed out, Mary in the Bible is exactly what feminists are fighting against: being type-casted as a mother, homemaker, virgin, quiet, obedient to the male rulers in her life, etc. In Milagros, she is a feminist hero. Damsel in distress? No, we have idiotic men being saved by Mary. Yes, she still is very feminine but not in the derogatory way of being weak and without a backbone. In a polite medieval way, she is kicking a$$ and taking names for those who love her. She doesn't need any help from a man at all. That's not to say that I don't respect Mary for being humble, chaste, and a mother. I just think it's nice to see her in a more powerful role. Instead of suggesting Jesus helps (wedding at Cana), she takes charge herself. Man, thinking about all of this woman-power makes you want to burn a bra.

Idle Hands

At this juncture in my life, I am taking a Summer course while my boyfriend has the Summer off. Like any relationship, we have had our ups and downs. However, it seems that having one of us working while the other is on vacation is a definite down. He feels like I will bite off his head if he interrupts me while I'm working (which is fairly accurate) and I feel like I don't have a chance to do my work because I need all of my attention on my task at hand. So we had a long discussion today. Lesson: we grew up in very different families and we work in two totally different ways. We are learning how the other person functions and are trying to adjust to that. I have to be very verbal about when it is ok and not ok to interrupt me and he has to be more verbal about what his plans are so that I can figure out my day to mesh with his. In the end, it's all about communication. Slowly but surely we are getting into each other's mind and we are seeing a new world. Let me tell you something: those shades of gray are really tough to distinguish.

Wow, this is probably the worst writing I've done in a while. I blame the time of day and the stress I'm feeling. I'll admit that I half-assed this. Oh well. Next time I won't have six pages of translations to work through. Oh my gosh, I ended a sentence in a preposition. I ought to get to bed. My writing is only getting worse as the hours pass by me.

I speak for the trees!

While walking from my car to class this morning (since I'm too cheap to get a parking permit), I noticed that some university employees were cutting down a tree. I am assuming and hoping that it was diseased or dead already. While thinking about the poor tree, I remembered a little story from my days at nerd school.

Before I arrived at this particular school, there was a beautiful, large tree next to the dormitory. It provided shade for the book nerds and something to climb for the athletic nerds. However, to the shock of all the residents, it was cut down one day. It had been declared dead and a risk to the building if it should fall the wrong way. All that was left was a stump. The nerds would not stand for this! In Dr. Seuss fashion, a Lorax was carved into the tree and the words "I speak for the trees" were etched next to it. You see, once the tree was chopped down, it was realized that it had actually been completely healthy. After a while the school took away the stump and planted a new tree upon the request of the students.

So here's your lesson for the day. Measure twice and cut once . . . or never!

Not enough time to think of a cute title

I need to get something off my chest. I am Roman Catholic. Yes, the church along with other religions and Christian denominations can be really screwy. Yes, it is difficult to explain why I am so adamant that non-Catholics should not receive communion at a Catholic church. No, not everything we do comes from the Bible. Yes, our services are not as laid back as other denominations and it has a very certain order to it. No, I don't agree with all of the teachings of the Catholic church. Yes, I'm still Catholic (see the Nicene Creed). Now can we all just chill out? I like to discuss my beliefs and the beliefs of other people. It fascinates me how many beautiful religions we have. I don't appreciate feeling like I need to defend every detail about my faith or everything that people of my faith have done. Have major leaders in the Catholic church messed up? Oh heck yes! People are imperfect. End of story. No matter what religion, nationality, sex, gender, or age, we all err. Now, can we get back to finding out how to feed to hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and spread love? 'Cause that's what really matters.

/rant

Death and Memories

I received an e-mail today that I see all too often: "[My University] Mourns the Death of a Student". Reading that line filled my head with memories. As an undergrad in my second year, a new friend died suddenly in a car crash while driving back to school after a weekend at home. Nobody found out why she crashed into that tree that day. I was called by the school newspaper because she was a freshman and I was her Resident Assistant. They wanted to know what she was like. What could I say? I stumbled over some words about her beauty that shone through her smile and her love of reading and horses. What I wanted to say is that she was someone that, after meeting once, I had wanted to become close friends with. We had so much in common! We were both bubbly people that wanted to open our hearts to everyone. I thought that we were going to be close friends. I was wrong. I couldn't go to the funeral; I felt stupid for mourning someone I barely knew.

Death has never been too far away. Just a month after graduation, a close friend died. She had had heart surgery as a child and one night her heart just stopped. When I heard the news, my legs fell from underneath me. There was no way that a 21 year-old dancing, singing, loving girl could die.  That night, my friends became family. We had no one to help us through it except each other. Our families were scattered around the country so we turned to each other. It's been over a year since she started a dance party in heaven and I still miss her so much.

My sister was able to go to visit our first home, Virginia, a week or two ago. While there she visited the grave of our sister, Michelle. That's the last memory I have of Virginia, visiting that cemetery. I was four years old, almost five. I felt bad for leaving her all by herself. We had no other family there. Who would visit her? I think I'm the only sibling who has not gone back yet. I want to go see the house we lived in and visit Michelle. I want to place a stone on her place marker to let her know and anyone who sees her that she has not been forgotten. She will always be loved.

Can't Sleep

I can't seem to fall asleep so I thought I might write something in here. First off, I have to point out that I can hear the June bugs flying against the window trying desperately to get in. It's really creeping me out. I hate bugs.

So, I was watching a show where actors in a public place act out a true to life scene to see how people will react. One was done in a town not far from me where a bakery worker refused to serve a woman because she was "dressed like a terrorist" (that is to say, wearing a hijab). Half of the people spoke up against the worker. The other half gave him a thumbs up or told him that he was doing the right thing. Disgusting.

The reason I bring this up is that a more recent episode had a man interviewing to work at a restaurant. The interview was being held at the restaurant at one of the tables on the floor. The actor playing the manager tells the man that he cannot wear his yarmulke to work. The actor playing the interviewee says it is illegal to require him to take off religious garb. (This is very true, by the way) This got me thinking.

Lay Christians are not known for any religious clothing with the possible exception of the mantilla. (Here's the wiki article for a brief overview)A few, such as myself, wear scapulars. Few people notice this little "necklace" that I wear and most that do see it mistakenly call it jewelry. I have seen some whose scapulars are large and ornate with color embroidery of Mary. Mine is small and quite simple. One piece of cloth as a script "M". The other has a small drawing of Mary. I feel that this better embodies the idea behind this scapular. It is to remind me of my devotion to Mary and my aim to be more like her: modest and completely faithful to God. There is no need for everyone to see what I hold in my heart. Anyway, it's difficult to explain why I think wearing this will help me gain favor with Our Lady. I don't know how I would respond if an employer asked me to not wear it. I would feel naked and vulnerable. I would worry what Mary would think of me if it was so easy to convince me to take off this symbol of my love. I think it would feel almost as odd as a married person being required to take off their wedding ring. What it symbolizes is so much more important than any job or any person.

Well, my brain isn't getting anywhere past this. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel like the sinners in Milagros de Nuestra Señora. I have this crazy idea that if I love God and Mary and show that through daily prayer that I might have a chance to be forgiven of my sins when it is my turn to be judged. Then again, I might be off my rocker. It's always a little hard to tell with me.