Ours is not to complain.

It's been a rough couple of days.

Tuesday evening I started feeling sick.
Wednesday morning I woke up with a full-blown cold.
When I walked outside to enjoy the morning, I found a dead momma bird in my garden.
I then began to develop a strange rash, which I'm guessing is poison ivy (I've never had it before, so this is an unpleasant new experience).
I learned that my friends' dad has cancer.
Today I woke up feeling a little better! ^_^
But then I felt terrible again.
It's raining, and we are supposed to go camping.
There's a strong possibility that my wii is dead.
C-group is cancelled because our leader is suffering extreme mouth pain.
et cetera

But you know what? God is good. He is so good that even when I feel like getting in bed and staying hidden under the covers for the rest of my life, I am comforted by Him. Everything is in His hands. NOTHING catches Him by surprise. As I told the little kids in Sunday School last week, "God is Never-Tiring, and He sustains us." What need have I to complain? He is not unaware of my inconveniences - He planned them for my good and His glory. I will glory in my Redeemer, and rest in His faithfulness. Praise be to our Eternal Sustainer! ¡El Señor es siempre bueno!

[Note: My wii is NOT dead, and after some spicy egg drop soup, I think I'm on the mend! I am so blessed!]

On the Experience of Facebook Withdrawals

So I gave up Facebook for Lent... and it's killing me.

This is SO HARD! I want to know what's going on out there! AUGH! I feel like I've suddenly lost all connections to the outside world. Almost Helen Keller-ish. I knew I had an addiction, but this is ridiculous!

Granted, it has led me to be praying a lot more today. In between studying and such, my day has pretty much gone like so:

Facebook! 

*Wiggles finger on mousepad to turn off screensaver*

No Facebook! No connection with anyone! Ahhh!

*Remembers Who is most important to stay connected with, and prays*

That doesn't change the fact that a bazillion fantastic ideas for status updates have gone through my head today, or that I want to upload a picture of ashes on my forehead.

When it comes down to the nitty gritty, though, I would rather have a good relationship with my Lord than ever mess with Facebook again.

Zounds. Mrs. K just commented on my status... stupid email updates...

Anyway, this has all been an excellent reminder to me that I am but dust, and to dust I shall return. I don't have the fortitude to give up 40 days of my social life without help and accountability. How on earth could I save myself? I am in desperate need of a Saviour, my friends. Desperate need.

At least maybe now I'll be better about writing on my blog. I haven't done much of anything since I joined Facebook.

A Txt on How I Feel...

I hate being sick!

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Good Riddance

Okay, so I'm back from a great time at Grandmas' houses. My sister and I are worn out, but we had a lot of fun. 

But for more exciting news:

Bandit is a devil dog and he's going bye-bye. I had considered putting the following on here:

Wanted: A good home for a bad dog

Family must be willing to have all belongings destroyed, visiting children bitten, incessant barking when there are visitors, and never go anywhere but their own house. It should also be noted that dog suffers from Separation Anxiety and something else that could be called plain selfishness if he wasn't an animal. Dog was given the name Bandit, but never answers to it,  loves to run free and terrorize  the neighborhood, while rolling in roadkill and picking fights with bigger dogs. Dog suffers from a bite from a neighboring dog that is finally healing. Future owners are advised to never leave him locked up or on a chain, as this will cause noises that make your neighbors think your torturing him. Also, no drug can knock him out. Please RSVP as soon as possible, as his favorite human cannot take anymore.

Yes, I considered putting that on here all by itself, but then I got home.

I never thought that I could despise the dog that I once cherished. With all of his thousands of faults, he has always been my puppy. my baby. my hot-water bottle. No more.

Bandit Bit Dad

So there's not much more to say. What makes me REALLY mad is that Dad wasn't being mean to him or anything. The only reason the dumb mutt bit him was that... well... there wasn't a reason. And what Really Really makes me mad is that the only reason the stupid dog is still living a great life in my house is me.

So it's time to say good bye to Bandit. Or good riddance. If you want to, you can think that I am very cruel, that I haven't done right by the animal, that I am a horrible-awful human being. Go ahead. You haven't lived through Bandit.

Be a dentist...

wahhhh!


Well, I just got back home. I was pretty nutty when they woke me up, but now I'm just miserable. The drugs made me super emotional and the numbing is wearing off, so now I hurt. The back of my throat hurts too, Mom said that they probably had some kind of tube down there to keep me from suffocating.

I really loved my nurse. Even though she had to interrogate me to no end over whether or not I could be pregnant or if I was taking any kind of birth control (FYI - the answer is NO) she connected to me pretty well. She buys pretty journals at book stores and never uses them, too.

I had my first I.V. which literally felt like a pinprick. I felt it and thought, 'uh-oh, here it comes' and they told me that that was it. But it WAS tiny. Then all of the sudden I started getting that wonderful feeling that I can go to sleep. I have a lot of experience with this feeling, because I have a hard time getting to sleep at night, so when I have this feeling, I know what to do. I started breathing like I should and boom! I was out.

Well, now I'm at home. And in pain. Extreme pain. Well, no, not extreme. I'd rather have extreme. I just pray that I don't ruin everyone's night. And all I wanna do is cry (it's the drugs). and I look goofy, to boot.

My scattered, horror-stricken thoughts typed up, but without much rhyme or reason.

This actually isn't the big thing that I was going to write about (and I will get to it eventually). I just really feel like I should. Okay. Here we go.

I need to talk about violence, like, "fake" violence such as movies. Well, let's just start with movies. Okay, how many kids 10 or under do you know that watch movies today that you would NEVER be able to watch? I just went to see Spiderman 3 last night. It's easier to watch than 2 (or at least I thought so) simply because there isn't a scene like the hospital scene in 2. Nothing like that. Just plain violent, not my-nightmares-go-something-like-this stuff. But it was still violent. People are blown up, chopped up and run into walls at a rate that makes you wonder if the writers forgot there was such a thing as a concussion. AND CHILDREN WATCH THIS. Okay, I realize that some boys take a while to hit a growth spurt and guys that are fifteen can look like they're eleven, but they don't look like they're nine. Or if you want to go back to a different violent movie (Star Wars Episode III) they don't look like the're... oh,... I'd say about six. Yeah. Just because they can watch the old Star Wars doesn't mean anything for the darker movies of today. Just because it's based on a comic book doesn't mean it's for kids.

But do you want to know what scares me in all of this?

These kids, you know, the ones way younger than me, THEY'RE LESS AFFECTED THAN I AM BY THE VIOLENCE.

Now, you must understand that I was born with one of those blessing/curse things that you find in movies. Mine is an extremely vivid imagination. So violence affects me; like, if someone is getting stabbed, I can get pretty close to knowing how they feel, so I feel really bad for them. And some things just affect me. For instance, my parents took me to Chicago for my birthday and we went to Medieval Times (which was SO much fun). At Medieval Times they have a torture chamber museum thing, and so I wanted to go. And so we went. My whole family. Even my little brother and sister. And I saw things... and I get sick at the thought of it. AND MY SIBLINGS SAW IT!... AND MY BROTHER WASN'T AFFECTED AT ALL! After I rushed through it all I wanted was to keep him from seeing it. To keep him from seeing the horror that my mind was giving me. And I couldn't.

Well, I mixed up subjects there, but now you know my side of watching violence - I'm more affected.

The rest of the world? They aren't affected.

Because it's common.

Okay, I'll talk about Video Games. Specifically, I'll pick on Marvel: Ultimate Alliance (my siblings and I just bought it). This game consists of killing bad guys. At first they're robots, so it's cool. But then they're human. And your powers get scarier, so you're zapping the brains out of one or grabbing them with your web and using them as a weapon. Now I don't think about it while I'm playing, so we just keep going on and on and on. And then my brother starts talking. And I realize that the violence has had its effect. He loves it.

When a kid says something like "There's only a little bit of blood" or even "There's no blood" you've got trouble. They ascociate violence with blood. Just to let you know, something can be VERY violent and have no blood at all. So what is violence, anyway?

Violence |ˈvī(ə)ləns| noun behavior involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something.

Yeah, I'll agree with that definition.

You can't just say that something is "fake". The point of a movie is to seem as real as possible, so while you're watching it (especially if you're young) that movie isn't fake. When war is going on in your backyard, you don't want your children to see. You don't want your children to start shooting at people. You don't want them beating people up. So why do you give them these roll models?

When you're a kid (or at least I was like this), you want to be tough, you want to be able to handle the violence. Then you see it, you can't handle it, you flip. Then you laugh at yourself, you talk yourself into believing that it's not that bad. Then you go back and watch it again. And it's not that bad.

Things need to be "that bad". Violence is shocking because it's wrong. Death is shocking because it's wrong. No one should be able to see someone die by being horribly mutilated and not be affected (I understand that this is sometimes nessesary for people in medical professions and people who fight in wars - I am not trying to say that they are wrong, actually they should be admired because they can handle it).

People are like the Romans with their gladiators. Nothing ever changes.

But please don't let your children see too much violence. Just because they CAN handle it doesn't mean they SHOULD.

Sorry. I'd love to say more. I'm just too sad.