Ornamental

This morning my mom dropped by with a coffee grinder and some organic sumatra whole beans which aptly go by the name of Veritas. They've temporarily moved out of their house while some people drill holes in the ceiling. At least, that's how I understand the situation, perhaps because it was explained to me in such a way that I should already know what it all means. Yesterday my mom loaded me up with some tuna, leftover fried rice and steak, a 2/3 full bottle of merlot, and some grape juice. "Here, now you take these and be on your way."

My exploration of the history of the English language winds its way into the Renaissance period, during which we see the language overcoming a great deal of opposition in order to become that of the learned men in their own country. With a great deal of struggle for its place against Latin, the age-old tongue of the learned, and no small amount of providence, English emerges triumphant and is established as a world voice for liberty and learning.
In a heart-quickening burst of foresight, Richard Mulcaster writes:

"I take this present period of our English tung to be the verie height therof, bycause I find it so excellentlie well fined, both for the bodie of the tung it self, and for the customarie writing thereof, as either foren workmanship can give it glosse, or as homewrought hanling can give it grace. When the age of our peple, which now use the tung so well, is dead and departed there will another succede, and with the peple the tung will alter and change. Which change in the full harvest thereof maie prove comparable to this, but sure for this which we now use, it semeth even now to be at the best for substance, and the bravest for circumstance, and whatsoever shall becom of the English state, the English tung cannot prove fairer, then it is at this daie, if it maie please our learned sort to esteme so of it, and to bestow their travell upon such a subject, so capable of ornament, so proper to themselves, and the more to be honored, bycause it is their own."

Because it is their own...If you could see me, I swoon. ;o) How scarce are men these days who feel no shame in loving that which is their own. Modern, tolerant thought lines these men up against the wall and shoots them in the back. Any spark of patriotism seems to have become suspect. To love your own kind, to fight for your nation's security, to be blessed with that which has been given to you and to protect it- this is what it means to be a man. I respect those who love their own kind, not to the exclusion of all others, but to take joy in what is their own and to possess the courage to fight for it. For who has breath or being except that it has been given to him by God? And if it has been given to him by God, then why should he not be filled with passion and fight for that which is rightfully his? We possess no liberty except that which we claim and fight for as children of the God who gave it. Liberty is not an arbitrary value of prosperous men. Liberty is divine. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. Where it is not, there is bondage. In all this reading of history, I am wooed, not by the words of the men themselves, but by the Invisible Hand that turned the world for their favor, inspiring the brave words the left their lips in moments of great courage, that Spirit that fought through their swords and brought victory to their hands. I am dizzy in love with the Master of this dangerous, untamable power. For who can claim that he is here on this earth of his own power? And though the lips of mortal man may be so kissably carved and bring forth the most eloquent thoughts and impressions, I see always behind them the indelible image of the Lover Himself, who has destined man for liberty. If my God gave me a crown of liberty, with ornaments all around, and if this tyrannical, death-minded world has stolen the ornaments and sought to destroy me, you had better believe that He will forcefully and systematically cause my enemies to hand over the ornaments or be annihilated, that I may live adorned as He so pleases. It is a fearful thing to stand between the God of the Universe and that which He desires. Why? Because He loves me. I will never be ashamed to surrender to the embrace of one who fights for me.

"For is it not in dede a marvellous bondage, to becom servants to one tung for learning sake, the most of our time, with losse of most time, whereas we maie have the verie same treasur in our own tung, with the gain of most time? Our own bearing the joyfull title of our libertie and fredom, the Latin tung remembring us of our thraldom and bondage? I love Rome, but London better, I favor Italie, but England more, I honor the Latin, but I worship the English." -Mulcaster

which end is up?

"I can't see why anybody- unless he was a child, or an angel, or a lucky simpleton like the pilgrim- would even want to say the prayer to a Jesus who was the least bit different from the way he looks in the New Testament. My God! He's only the most intelligent man in the Bible, that's all! Who isn't he head and shoulders over? Who? Both Testaments are full of pundits, prophets, disciples, favorite sons, Solomons, Isaiahs, Davids, Pauls- but, my God, who besides Jesus really knew which end was up? Nobody. Not Moses. Don't tell me Moses. he was a nice man, and he kept in beautiful touch with his God, and all that- but that's exactly the point. He had to keep in touch. Jesus realized there is no separation from God." Zooey here clapped his hands together- only once, and not loud, and very probably in spite of himself. His hands were refolded across his chest almost, as it were, before, the clap was out. "Oh, my God, what a mind!" he said. "Who else, for example, would have kept his mouth shut when Pilate asked for an explanation? Not Solomon. Don't say Solomon. Solomon would have had a few pithy words for the occasion. I'm not sure Socrates wouldn't have, for that matter. Crito, or somebody, would have managed to pull him aside just long enough to get a couple of well-chosen words for the record. But most of all, above everything else, who in the Bible besides Jesus knew - knew- that we're carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside, where we're all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginitive to look? You have to be a son of God to know that kind of stuff."

-from Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

Him Dryhten sylf, heofona heáhcyning

I've been reading A History of the English Language lately, originally inspired by a deep curiosity about Norsemen and their influence on our language. As a side note, let me just say that Celestial Seasonings has really outdone themselves in making their Perfectly Pear White Tea! It's slightly sweet in a way similar to white chocolate, and it's caffeinated, which enables me to lie awake late at night, lost in tales of Teutonic conquest and the strange words of a people long dead. I must admit that I am slightly infatuated with the English that was spoken before William the Conqueror succeeded in claiming the English throne. It's rougher, less pretentious, and steeped in the flavor of heroism. When I move my lips to form the sounds that they spoke, it calls to everything that remains yet unconquered in me. I find myself bristling at the mention of Normandy and find that I hale Christmas day, 1066, as somewhat of a tragedy. Many English words that existed before the people were subjected by the French are much more beautiful than those of any romance language. Inherent in them are the strength and character of northern people, the distant footfalls of an era never again to be revisited.

Notes from the library...I picked up D.H. Lawrence for the first time the other day and just as quickly put him back down again. The characters he creates feel so artificial, their situations contrived and self-serving. What I wouldn't give for more of the warm, intimate psychological narrative of Tolstoy's novels. Any recommendations? I've hit upon Edith Wharton and will soon finish her House of Mirth, which I plan to follow up with Age of Innocence. At the library today I picked up Salinger's Franny and Zooey to read together with my compañero favorito, a volume of Rumi's love poems, Beowulf, and Memoirs of a Geisha. Because I have a great deal of blessedly free time on my hands, I would appreciate recommendations in the same vein as the above mentioned. I like books that are best read in fuzzy slippers with a cup of tea after everyone has already gone to sleep. My little sister is a notorious bookworm, and if she doesn't post me a list of satisfying reads, somebody's gonna catch a beat down. Hehe, just kiddin. Kind of.

WANTED: Teutonic Warrior Man. Must be fond of hats. :o)

When you say you love me
The world goes still, so still inside and
When you say you love me
In that moment I know why I'm alive

Awakening

But your dead will live;
their bodies will rise.
You who dwell in the dust,
wake up and shout for joy.
Your dew is like the dew of the morning;
the earth will give birth to her dead.

Isaiah 26:19

enriched with minerals from the dead sea

This weekend I've been on hold with my web hosting company for minutes unending. They don't make it easy. But they do play songs from Enya's "Shepherd Moons" for the on-hold music, which was the first cassette tape I ever purchased, by the way. So that made it slightly more bearable.I launched my personal website, if you want to go visit:
http://www.misscoffey.com
There is a page on there with info about my design work, along with photos of friends and that kind of thing. If you or someone you know needs some web design done, have them send me an email. I've also put up my best friend's photography website. To visit that one, go to:
http://www.goodingphotography.com There you can view his work and contact us if you want to order prints. Both of these sites are best viewed using Internet Explorer or Mozilla Firefox and have not been adapted to any other browsers. It is imperative that you temporarily disable any pop-up blockers on your browser in order to view them correctly, otherwise you're kind of out of luck.

Hibernation Northwest Bachelorette Style

I had my first visit to the grocery store since returning home from Korea, after which I was so blissfully grateful to be in America. Prior to the shopping excursion I had quite an emotional evening and arrived at Safeway red-eyed and puffy-faced in my pajamas and a ratty ponytail. I was delighted to find that the Safeway worker guys were courteous and pleasant. Two of them asked if I was finding everything I needed and if in fact I was having a nice day. Well, no, but you're kind to inquire, young man. The cashier bid me farewell with, "Thank you for shopping at Safeway, Miss Coffey. May I help you carry your bags to your car?" That won't be necessary, thank you.

I bought the food necessary to hibernate in my cave for the time being: chicken soup, mushroom soup, sourdough breadbowls, cheddar cheese chili, milk, yogurts (needed me some Tillamook), granola bars, vanilla almond shredded oat cereal, asiago cheese bagels, cream cheese, frozen pizzas, and an Odwalla bar. Who knew Odwalla was putting it in a bar now? Celestial Seasonings was having a buy one get one free deal on their teas, so I picked up the Perfectly Pear White Tea and the classic Tension Tamer. These are guaranteed to ensure fewer tearful calls to Spiderman, a more patient attitude towards my mother, and an unusually calm PMS week for all parties concerned.

Roma, baby...

You Belong in Rome You're a big city girl with a small town heart Which is why you're attracted to the romance of Rome Strolling down picture perfect streets, cappuccino in hand And gorgeous Italian men - could life get any better? What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)

Spiderman

I don't understand how Spiderman is cool. I mean, I wouldn't say that he's uncool, but I just don't understand him. Girls don't like spiders or webs or anything there related. How can Spiderman be sexy? Wouldn't he be much cooler if he had a power like flying, something completely independent from the art of web-making?

I was forced to kill a spider for myself the other night. It was a monstrous one, with a large center, possibly poisonous. One never can be too sure about these things. My first step towards killing this vicious beast was to call my mom on the phone.

Me: Mom, there's a giant spider here in my room and I need you to come and kill it.
Mom: What? Do you know what time it is? I'm in bed.
Me: But it's a huge one way up high in the corner, and...is that the TV? Are you watching TV? You're not in bed!
Mom: I am NOT coming over there to kill a spider! You go get a broom from the garage and poke at it from a chair. Goodnight!

Phone call #2. was to Spiderman himself. Though I knew he was much too far away to kill the wretched beast, I needed his advice. This Spiderman is a strategist, I tell you. He said that first I need to secure something sturdy to whack it with. I found some newspaper. Then we brainstormed about what was in the house that could be used to kill the *whisper* ...spider... and what I should do if in fact it fell to the ground still alive and tried to escape. He reminded me of my dominion over the animals of the earth. Upon his suggestion, I found a chemical spray. With the pledge and newspaper in hand, I climbed atop a chair, all the while calling loudly and desperately upon Almighty God. I hate spider-kind. I started spraying the Pledge can, and what do ya know, but that damned spider started walking towards me on the ceiling! Could he not read the determination in my eyes? I sprayed continually until finally after a minute or so, the spider fell to the ground in a fit of convulsions. I hoped that its nervous system had been completely destroyed, (Do spiders have nervous systems?) but the beast tried its best to scurry across the carpet. It was then that I met his body with a devastating blow from my newspaper. I called all parties concerned to inform them of my victory and sat down mostly relieved. I say mostly, because I always get this creeping feeling that spiders are vindictive creatures and that somehow the anger of the other spiders has been aroused.

A dozen white roses arrived at my door today with a card that read, "I hope you're having a wonderful day off," completely unrelated to the spider incident, but very much related to the Spiderman previously mentioned. He does know how to brighten the day of the unemployed ;o) And thus continues the legend of Spiderman, elusive but ever sweet. All my days are days off lately. Yes, I'm still looking for a job.

And now I leave you with a quote from Aeschines Socraticus. I'm not a huge fan of reason, and I have several friends who would shoot darts from their eyes at me for saying such a thing, but sometimes reason brings light to passions that shroud themselves in the mysterious cloak we commonly refer to as 'destiny'.

"Unless you come to believe that there is no better man nor worthier woman on earth you will always still be looking for what you judge the best thing of all- to be the husband of the best of wives and the wife of the best of husbands."

Star of the Morning

"There was a real railway accident," said Aslan softly. "Your father and mother and all of you are—as you used to call it in the Shadowlands—dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning."

-The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis

doll making 101

An email I sent out recently...
So Friends,
Want to know what I'm up to while I'm unemployed? My sister sent me something very addictive. It's this doll-making site and I spent several hours on it last night, making doll versions of the people I know. http://elouai.com/doll-makers/timeline.php There is a "boy doll maker" and also the "candybar doll maker" which is the girl one. Not enough of these damn dolls have curly hair. How am i supposed to make me?! This is a wicked thing. We should already know that since Sponge Bob is one of their corporate sponsors. Should purple eyes really be an option? Here are the dolls that I came up with. The first one is my friend Laura from high school who is now in Iraq. So if we substitute the bunny purse for a Glock and an M4, we've got it just about right. Then I made a summer version of my Florida sunshine boy and a winter marion, and I felt downright lucky to have found a fedora on there, since it's a Korean website ;o) Then I attempted to make myself. The last one is my sister's version of me, and she thinks it looks more like me. I pounded my fork and grumbled at the lunch table today, "Marj is better at making dolls than me." and my mom said, "Be nice to your baby sister."
What else? Watching reruns of Friends and Little House on the Prarie, eating icecream...reruns and late nights are the culture of the unemployed. I hope you enjoy the doll-making website. Email me your findings.

Peeping Toms

McMinnville local news. There was a peeping tom next door at the neighbor's house the other night. I was walking over to my mom's other house, where I am staying alone, 7lb. laptop in my arms, and a bag of snack food loaded on top of that. I saw the man walking across the sidewalk and back between our house and theirs. My first instinct told me that he's some kind of pervert, but I had no idea who he was or if he lived there. Whaddaya know, but the neighbor lady comes screaming out the door and the man scampers away like a rabbit. She told me to go run after him. I looked at her, dumb-founded, quite obviously loaded up with things to carry home. Besides, he could have had a weapon. Apparently, he was peeping in her daughter's bedroom window. When I stood there without moving, she called to her son to get the car keys so they could go hunt him down, and then proceeded to yell, "I got your picture!" into the darkness where he disappeared. They eventually called the cops, and I did a telephone interview with them, as I was the only one to have seen him.
cops: "So, what did he look like?"
me: "I didn't get a real good look at him, because it was dark. I know he was wearing a white tank top, and he had a beer belly. I'm pretty sure he wasn't black. It seemed like he wasn't wearing shoes, but then again maybe he was. He ran pretty fast for a fat guy."

No, despite that excellent description, they did not catch the culprit ;o) Afterwards I vowed to hang up curtains over at my place, which is still being remodeled and presently has no curtains whatsoever in any of the rooms.

I drove for the first time in about five months. Wow, I never realized how much I brake with my tiptoes. If I'm going to live in this land, I think I will be needing a vehicle at some point in time. I really enjoyed not having one, but that golden Camelot era of my life may soon be over for good.