Theme Week # 15 (2)

That’s called, A Charge to Keep, based upon a religious hymn. The hymn talks about serving God. The president’s job is never to promote a religion.”

America stands for liberty, for the pursuit of happiness and for the unalienable right for life. This right to life cannot be granted or denied by government because it does not come from government, it comes from the creator of life.

Faith crosses every border and touches every heart in every nation.

Every nation in every region now has a decision to make. Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.

America has never been united by blood or birth or soil. We are bound by ideals that move us beyond our backgrounds, lift us above our interests and teach us what it means to be citizens. Every child must be taught these principles. Every citizen must uphold them, and every immigrant, by embracing these ideal, makes our country more, not less, American.

Our nation is somewhat sad, but we’re angry. There’s a certain level of blood lust, but we won’t let it drive our reaction. We’re steady, clear-eyed and patient, but pretty soon we’ll have to start displaying scalps.

Use power to help people. For we are given power not to advance our own purposes nor to make a great show in the world, nor a name. There is but one just use of power and it is to serve the people.

Bring them on.

America, at its best, matches a commitment to principle with a concern for civility. A civil society demands from each of us good will, and respect, fair dealing and forgiveness.

I think you can judge from somebody’s actions a kind of stability and sense of purpose perhaps created by strong religious roots. I mean, there’s certain patience, a certain discipline, I think, that religion helps you achieve.

I am the decider. I decide what is best.

The only way we can win is to leave before the job is done.

Theme Week # 15 (1)

December 10, 2006...

Slept in late...
Forty bodies shot and tortured found across Baghdad

Ate bowl of Fruity Cheerios...
Mortar round kills 2 in Baghdad's Kadhimiya district

Drank two cups of coffee...
Bodies of 2 policeman received at Mosul Hospital with gunshot wounds

Took long, hot shower...
Gunmen attack hairdressers shop in Kirkuk killing the owner

Walked dogs in the snow...
Gunmen attack 2 Shiite homes killing 10 people

Did homework...
Clashes erupt between Sunni and Shiite militants in Baghdad. One Shiite militiaman killed, 6 wounded (5 Sunnis, 1 Shiite)

Finished knitting scarf...
Sunni families march for help saying gunmen from Shiite Militia forced them from their homes at gunpoint

Made supper...
Staff Sgt Henry W. Link, 23 died of injuries suffered when an improvised explosive device detonated

Spoke to Grandmother on phone...
Staff Sgt. Kristofer R. Ciraso 26, of Bangor Maine died of injuries when and improvised explosive device detonated

Ate bowl of coffee ice cream...
Bodies of 60 apparent victims of sectarian killings found across Baghdad

Brushed teeth...
Gunmen attacked homes of 2 Shiite families killing 9

Went to bed...
3 iraqui soldiers killed by US friendly fire

Prayed...

Theme Week # 16

“People say a word dies when it is written by the pen, but for me that word’s life is just about to begin.”
Emily Dickinson

My friend has a bumper sticker that reads, “Don’t believe everything you think.” For years I thought I could write. That’s what my family told me. Why would I want to think any different?

I remember the first time John complimented me on an assignment. “Slick”, “Can I use this as an example in my class?” See, my family was right. I do know how to write. The next papers comment; “It just doesn’t do it for me. Nahh…Nope! Not it” Having a type A personality, my first thought was, Shit! I failed. Soon my insecurity kicked in…He just doesn’t like my writing. Finally…Well, if he would just tell me in plain English what the hell I’m doing wrong!

Paper after paper, the anxiety grew. I spent hours sitting with my head back staring at the ceiling. I’d hold my breath with every reader response. “Too many adjectives. Too many adverbs. Not enough detail. Too much detail.” My pen became a prisoner of his instructions. My husband asked more than once, “Why do you care so much what he thinks?” Seemed like a pretty obvious answer.

One evening, my dreads were completely washed away. I was helping my niece with her homework. She became frustrated with me because she didn’t know how to put into words what she was trying to say. “Honey, I’m here to help you. I don’t expect you to know everything. You don’t go to school to get all the answers right. You go to school to learn the answers.” That was my ton of bricks.

I didn’t take this class for a repeated pat on the back. (I came to the wrong place if that was what I was looking for.) I signed up for this class to learn something. In doing so, my brain was kicked, twisted, yanked, and picked completely apart. In other words, it wasn’t just nestled in believing everything tucked inside of it. With every constructive word of criticism, I found another pathway. With every “There are risky topics, risky ways of writing about non-risky topics, and risky ways of writing about risky topics.” I learned a different way to write, a different way to think. Granted, I felt like I circled the barn a few times before I found the door but I really think I found it! Does that mean I’m now a writer? Nope! It just means there’s a way in, and for me "word's life is just about to begin." What more could I have asked for?

Theme Week # 14

A cure for cancer, aids, the common cold, the perfect man, or woman, car keys, the "other" sock, reading glasses, and happy endings; we spend a good majority of our lives looking for things. Much of what we search for is either lost or unattainable.

I'm beginning to think I may never find what I am looking. No, it's not the perfect man. Even I know the improbability of that. I'm just looking for the perfect pair of underwear; a pair that don't bunch, twist, ride, or cut me in half. Yes, I've tried the thong somehow believing that intentionally placing the underwear between my cheeks would take away from the frustration I feel when they creep up there on their own. A few hours of "balancing on that tightrope" was all I could take.

Unlike the three styles men have, there are as many women's styles of underwear as Baskin Robbins has flavors. Yesterday, I broke down and bought six of them. Surely with so many to choose from I would find one I liked.

I put a pair on and went Christmas shopping. By 10am, I was in a bathroom stall at JC Penney's holding a pair of scissors with my underwear pulled down around my thighs trying desperately to remove whatever was poking me in the crotch. I snipped at a piece of elastic and went on my merry way. Before three minutes passed, I was back in the bathroom with more fervor than ever, scissors in hand. Clip, clip, clip...That should do it. By noon, my new panties found their way into the bathroom trashcan. It was at that point, I considered scratching the underwear search altogether. How bad could it be? Yeah, well that question was answered rather quickly as I was leaving the bathroom and passed two giggling girls in the hallway, then I felt the draft. Needless to say, the search continues.