What's Molly Dreaming Now?

I have always had strange, evocative dreams. To me, they're just dreams, but when I explain them to other people, they tend to cock their heads to one side, raise and eyebrow and walk slowly away backwards, so I'm assuming that means the dreams are strange. Quite often themes and locations repeat in my dreams: tornados, alien invasions, my small nowheretown; but just as often - more probably - they're just strange cinematic quilts.

Tonight I think I should start a series: "What's Molly Dreaming Now?" Whenever I have a particularly vivid or bizarre dream, I'll post as much of it as I can remember and I'll let you, the readers tell me what you think it means. I will also include a little background on what I think some elements were inspired by and you may feel free to agree with me, or come up with something entirely different.

Here goes:
~Dream January 27, 2007~
I have just stepped out of some building that serves a public service. A school, a church center, a community recreation building, something. I step into the courtyard. The place is teeming with people. They're all wearing bright colors, period, professional or cultural costumes or otherwise funky fashions. The courtyard is huge: easily half a football field and the building - a deep red brick color, four or five stories high - encompasses the whole courtyard. (though i suppose that goes without saying.) It's probably summertime or late spring. People are dressed loosely. It's pleasantly warm outside; 80 degrees at least. No breeze, but no humidity, either. It's about 4:30 or 5PM, but because I'm inside the courtyard surrounded by the walls of the huge building, it feels like twilight.

For some reason, I think I'm wearing a pinstriped Edwardian era day dress, along the lines of what darling Kate wore boarding the fated ship in Titanic. But mine was less suit like and more regular waisted and breezy, if that makes any sense. If the sun is setting in the west, then I enter the courtyard from the southeast corner. I believe I'm looking for someone, or at least I feel deeply compelled to consult with someone. I can't recall if I was told to seek someone or not. The courtyard is just teeming with people - they're all content. I think I'm content, but tinged with malaise about something.

A woman comes up to me. She is molto pregnant and wears a two piece beach garment. (I don't want to call it a swimsuit, because it may be a skirt or something on the bottom; I pay more attention to her belly and her prescence than her bottom.) She is black and her hair is short, kept in stubby, springy baby dreads. She smiles alot and is pretty darn comforting to be around. I'm mostly at ease, but I'm still unsure. What if she's not the one I'm supposed to consult? What if her consultation leads me awry? Her outfit is burgundy and on the left side of her bikini top are a cluster of tiny sea shells that run from just above her breast up an inch or two up the strap of her halter. The sea shells are also at her hip. She is very pretty, but more than that, she's captivating and magnetic. She knows she is the one I am supposed to confer with and as soon as I see her, I accept that she is the one I'm meant to meet. We trade greetings, but before we can go any further, something is happening on the northeast corner of the courtyard.

A massive space ship - probably an acre at the base - that looks like the tip of a giant bullet is preparing to blast off. I'm a bit concerned that maybe we should clear the area, but say nothing. I know that this ship is important to us for some reason and I'm as excited as anyone about its departure. Then a crane next to the ship, which ostensibly assists the ship, swings its arm out in front of it and dangling from the arm are a quartet of tall, limp men. They hang from some support under their armpits. They seem to be unconscious and quadruplets at that. They wear blue pin-striped pants, and button-down tops. Everything about them is a pale wash of blue, from their hair - long and natty - to their shoes. They look like a cross between the scary twins from the Matrix sequels and the 5th Element from the 5th Element. It becomes apparent that these men are essential the liftoff sequence for the ship, but I don't really know exactly why. I don't know if they're strapped to the outside or what. And I infer from the woman beside me that sacrificing them is both evil and necessary and that they are equally good and evil and that there was some question about whether they really volunteered for the liftoff.

When I look back, the ship is roaring off the launchpad. No sign of the blue guys. I'm filled with fear and awe and hope. This launch is very important for some reason. The ship produces no smoke, but rather burns clear fumes, lots of them, like what you'd see on a really hot day in Phoenix. It slowly climbs into the sky and leaves a white vapor trail. The sun has begun to set.

Other random items not part of the "plot," but there viscerally: a younger friend with whom I trade emails once every 6 - 18 months, whom I have not seen in 10 years and who is doing well in his industry and for and about whom I am very proud; Tony Danza; the year 2003 and feeling bad about that year until I started recounting to someone in the dream the trips to Europe I took that year.

The only item from life I can think of that may have inspired this dream, or one part of it: we watched an episode of Battlestar Galactica last night that we had been hanging onto for a month in which the diaspora-ed humans, starving to death, had to go to a planet covered in algae to find food.

What do y'all think?
Have fun!

They ARE after you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ... and what we remember.

I found this article on MSNBC.com about a guy in Australia who was being mauled by a great white shark from the top down. The diver pried himself off enough to poke the jurassic beast in the eye, right as he was coming down for a second munch on the noggin. Kudos to the diver! He is a fracking bad motherfucker! God bless the Aussies!

I really like this picture to the left here, by the way. It's just cool. To learn more about how predatory fish want to find you at home while you're watching Wheel of Fortune or doing Sudoku and kill you and eat you with a side of dijonnaise, please click here.

Before I go any further, I also want to extend the warmest, fuzziest and most loving of greetings to VirginiaGal, on this the eve of her 30th birthday. (Since I'm pretty sure she'll read this on the 24th, maybe I should dispense with formality and just call it her birthday.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VIRGINIA GAL!!

... as Honey says, being 3o is orgasmic! all. the. time. I wish you many, many arousing days from here on out! (see how she blushes!) Seriously: Blessings to you on this milestone. May you have scores more! ... and if on this day that those who love you want to celebrate you, you post about being 30 and single, and not the good fortune to have made it this far, I will go cry in my milk.

Moving on!

I grew up in west Texas. Anyone who's read more than two posts (or who reads and knows me off-line) has probably picked up on that. My experience on the East Coast has been that people tend to think Texans are illiterate morons. (Pardon the exaggeration of their perception of us. What can I say, we're prone to hyperbole.) And frankly the current dipshit in chief does everything to perpetuate and affirm that ugly stereotype. I always find it amusing that Texas gets totally dissed for anything it doesn't do in a progressive manner, when there are many other states - some not even in the South - which have their own backwardy ways, too. But that's for another post. Nonetheless there are definitely aspects to life in Texas that many of us who no longer live there - and those who still do - are either irritated by or downright pissed off about. The amount of children uninsured for one. But as I was having drinks with friends the other night - two others of whom spent their youth in Texas - I was struck by their memories of public education.

One woman grew up in and graduated high school from Amarillo. The young man lived in a suburb of Houston till he was 15. I spent my entire life pre-18 in the Panhandle then the southwest hunk of the state. Houston to Amarillo is a 12 hour drive on a good day, to where I lived it was 13 or 14 hrs. Amarillo to the desert southwest section is about 8 hours. For Sonnjea in CA or Joe in Vegas, you may know that's not a big deal, but if I have any readers on the East Coast, it indicates that people can have very different experiences all within the same geopolitical unit.

The young man from Houston said he remembered having to get permission slips/waivers signed from his parents before his school could teach him Sex Ed or evolution. My friend from Amarillo said her school would have never even broached either. But I remember the Sex Ed section of health class pretty well - it lasted at least 2 weeks - and while I don't remember a "section" or specific class lesson about evolution, I do remember in biology, we just kind of talked about it like a given. We evolved from apes; we're adapted to this or that, etc. We never had to have waivers for either concept.

I called my brother whose adolescence was split between the middle of nowhere southwest of the state and Houston. He remembers in the small town, all the 8th grade boys were coralled into the auditorium one afternoon and one of the town doctors explained sex. As for Sex Ed in Houston, he recalls a week in health class and no waivers. He remembers nothing of evolution in science class. He remembers nothing of science class. (We're more of a word family. We're happy with the Cs we worked hard for in math.) Additionally, a friend of mine from SwTX, now in Austin, recalled with me the day all the girls in HS were given a sex ed talk from a local nurse, complete with birth control options - and how we thought it grossly unjust the too-fertile boys didn't get the same treatment. Nonetheless, no waivers. But I, unlike her, have memories of people in the town we could go to for BC if we needed/wanted it. She remembers it being not available at all.

I guess I find all this curious for two reasons. Again, as much as popular as it is to lump all Texas experiences into the same basket, the communities really do vary region by region. The second reason is this: how much of memory is accurate?

Of the 5 people referenced (my brother, me, my Amarillo friend, my Houston friend and my small town friend), our time away from high school ranges from 9 to 17 years. I barely remembered anything I was taught in high school, aside from classes I liked. Most of my memories from those days are social. And, how much of our memory is affected by the image we want to retain? Does my friend want to remember no birth control options in our town? Does my other friend want to remember Amarillo as the constrictive-Bible belt city? Do I want to remember taking evolution as a given in high school Biology? I recently discovered that what I understood to be the reason I wasn't specifically taught Greek Mythology in Junior High was inaccurate. I'd picked up somewhere along the way that it was because a religious right-wing parent demanded my school stop teaching it. I learned a decade and a half later that wasn't the case. It was simply that I missed that section because in 7th grade (generally when it's taught in TX), I had moved before my prior school got to it, and after my new school had covered it.

How accurate is memory, then? Especially memory of events that really don't seem to matter that much now? High school biology class? Sex ed? I already knew what evolution was and my parents, though not as much help in the department of the mechanics of sex, were always there to talk with us about the emotional aspects. It seems memory would be far more accurate, or at least impactful, for the moments that mattered: picking a name for my baby brother, when we had to put our dog to sleep, the mean teacher who gave me detention for something that wasn't my fault.

... something I do presume, though, is that in this country that is becoming more and more politicized, waivers may be becoming the norm in many parts of the state. But I wouldn't be surprised if they're becoming the norm in many states, period.

(You all know what a period is, right? I'm presuming you took some form of Sex Ed?)

Mimicking a Meme

I'm stealing this meme from from Sonnjea, because I liked it. I already left a message on her comment saying as much, so I hope she approves.
(Oh, please approve, SonnjeaB!!)


You can only type one word; no explanations.

1. Yourself: achey
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend (spouse): geekasexy
3. Your hair: ponytail
4. Your mother: conniption
5. Your father: laughing
6. Your favorite item: computer
7. Your dream last night: frayed
8. Your favorite drink: wine
9. Your dream car: efficientinormous
10. The room you are in: dark
11. Your ex: long-gone
12. Your fear: terrortalitatarianism
13. What you want to be in 10 years: momartisterrific
14. Who you hung out with last night: friends
15. What you’re not: starving
16. Muffins: belt-top
17: One of your wish list items: hybrid
18: Time: 7PM
19: The last thing you did: Eat
20. What you are wearing: pajamas
21. Your favorite weather: sunny
22. Your favorite book: Lamb
23. The last thing you ate: bread
24. Your life: wonderful
25. Your mood: content
26. Your best friend(s): Honey
27. What are you thinking about right now: movies
28. Your car: expiring
29. What are you doing at the moment: movie-watching
30. Your summer: desirous
31. Your relationship status: latched
32. What is on your tv: absent
33. What is the weather like: snowy!!! (FINALLY!)
34. When is the last time you laughed: dinner

Wobbly Wednesday

Aye-yai-yai, this week! I had a wonky rehearsal tonight; I just didn't feel 100% great about my performance. And my professors still haven't signed off on the paperwork I need for my final semester, making it impossible (literally) to register.

BUT I'm going to cut the whine and note stuff that's gone well this week:

1. first day of new job today. AND the commute is 1/4 of what my old commute was. YEA!

2. laughter. ... for the lotto.

3. hearing my brother explain how he bandit ran out of the 5K into the half-marathon he had trained for but for which he had registered too late to legitimately run.

4. the little boy at 10,000 Villages playing with the instruments.

5. Winter has finally come to the East Coast!! ... at least the temperatures are on par.

Redheaded Rover Rambles about the Afterlife

A little candy before I get into the meat.

I've noticed lately, a specific adverb. I suppose it has existed for a while, but I can't recall ever having heard it in use. Or if I had heard it used - and I don't think I've ever read it anywhere - it was so infrequent as to leave no impression on me. Here's the word: "funnily" ... as in "funnily enough, someone thought of adverbizing the word funny."

What is most striking about the use of this word is where I've been hearing it. On NPR. At least once or twice on On the Media, and an another program. Maybe All Things Considered. Why "funnily?" Why not amusingly or strangely or oddly? "Funnily," though completely valid just hits my ears at a 90-degree angle. It feels almost sophomoric. Though I suspect there may be (drum roll, please) a phonological reason for my distaste for it. But you, dear readers, were already subjected to that crap in my last post, so I'll drop it. "Funnily" sounds weird to me and it cracks up my shit that the "wordinistas" on NPR are starting to use it.

Now, to the meat.
On my last post, I mentioned that I wanted to address the subject of perceived correct response of faith. That's probably not what the subject really is, so hopefully, while writing I'll come up with a better way of describing it.

VirginiaGal and I got to have dinner together with mutual friends last week. It was lots of fun, but she posed a question to me. Here was her scenario: VA Gal, who is Muslim, was in a situation recently where she was having a conversation with a Pentecostal military chaplain. Somewhere in the conversation she told him that she thinks God doesn't really discriminate who gets into Heaven based on religion. The chaplain disagreed and questioned her own religious loyalty if she didn't believe God only allowed Muslims into Heaven. Then she wondered if maybe he was right. She posed this to me. I basically said, "I can't judge that." That was weak. This is my attempt to elaborate.

During the holidays there was a radio ad that ran on a couple of stations, for a local church. "The only problem with religion is you don't know which one is right until you're dead."

Needless to say that's not the only problem. One of the big problems is I don't think anyone really agrees on what religion is. That's totally for another post which has been steeping in me for a few weeks. In reference to the above ad and to the chaplain's offense, though, the problem isn't you don't know until you're dead, the problem is making that item, that post-life certainty the core focus of religion and one's faith in God.

Like VirginiaGal and the chaplain, I believe in Heaven. Unlike the chaplain, but like VirginiaGal, if God is love and as my Muslim cousins pray, that He is benevolent, and like we are taught, that He is omniscient, I cannot imagine that God would reject the soul of one who has led a worthy life and who did good works just because she prayed to Jesus instead of 5X a day toward Mecca or drank Maneschevitz or because he wore saffron robes in Tibet. I tend to lean toward the Prayer of Thomas Merton school of thought: I trust my desire to please you pleases you.

Also, I would presume, unlike the chaplain, who gets into Heaven is of less concern to me. Largely because of what I stated above, but also because A) it's none of my business; I'm not the one making the guest list and B) when one focuses too heavily on the guest list per se, I suspect there's not enough focus on what needs to be done in this life. If we concern ourselves too much with the Grape Shasta and Fruit Roll-Ups at the end of the game, it really distracts us from the present, from what needs to be done to make this world a better place.

... besides, what if we don't know who was right at the end? And why does there have to be one who is right? At a Bible study one night years ago, I proposed the idea that maybe God speaks to us in the cultural vernacular we understand; maybe when Islam was ascending, the people of that region needed to hear God speak in an Islamic way. Maybe the dissenting Jews and the syphillitic Gentiles of the Roman empire needed the hippie reformer Jesus. Maybe the folks along the silk road needed Buddha. Maybe God is still talking and there's no terminal religion. (No better way to keep God in a box than to say you've got the only message forever.) Focusing on "who's right" is not only a distraction from what needs to be done in the present, it is a major hindrance in building community which not only seems spiritually shallow, but immoral in the modern world.

Ultimately, what the chaplain took issue with was the idea of religious identity. His sense of religious identity is tied heavily into Heaven and his perception of the one narrow path in. Islam, I think, has a similar doctrine and he didn't know how VirginiaGal could be a good Muslim and not accept every last scrap of doctrine. Maybe she can't. Maybe I can't be a good christian because I do not accept every last scrap of orthodox doctrine (though my preferred denomination's loosely official doctrine is "no creed but Christ," so I have some elbow room). Maybe my Jewish friends can't be good jews because they eat bacon. But maybe God cares less about the doctrines we impose than about us just having a relationship with Him and with those we come in contact with.

Really, we're all just doing the best we can during our short time on this spinning mudball, right? Then I'm back to my first answer: I can't judge that.

Pronu-phono-nunciatio-logy and faith ... or not

There are two subjects upon which I feel I should blog, tonight (or soon, anyway): perceived correct pronunciation and perceived correct response of faith. Since I am giddy about one and reflective about the other, my post will be guided entirely by my own attention span and the battery life of this laptop. There is currently 1 hour and 37 minutes left on this juicer; let's see how far I get.

Sonnjea had a really delightful post the other day about language pet peeves. The pecadillos she focused on were mispronunciations or over pronunciations of brand names. People calling Ikea "ee-kay-uh", Swiffer, "swifter" and Toyota "tie-oh-tuh," were the examples she listed. I don't know that I've heard anyone call any of these brands by those pronunciations - except maybe Toyota, and even that might've been a slightly different pronunciation in the case or two that I've heard. But I have every confidence that there are people who pronounce those words like that. Because I'm a linguist (since I'm a semester away from graduation, I'm finally allowing me to call myself that), I was immediately drawn to the phonological issues at work in all three of these words.

Frankly, I'm not sure exactly what's going on with Ikea being called "ee-kay-uh," other than people are probably overlaying their perceived foreign pronunciation onto a known foreign word. I don't know any Swedish or fjordish tongues, so I don't know how Ikea is pronounced there, but it wouldn't be surprising to me if it were not at all like "ee-kay-uh," which is probably closer to how it is pronounced in Mexico City than Stockholm. (Pissed Off Pencil, are you out there to comment?)

As for Swiffer being pronounced "swifter," that's just a simple screw up. "Swiffer" is a deliberately manufactured word used in specific cases, but "swifter" is a real word in the organic lexicon that a speaker can use in many cases. It's simply easier to reach for the familiar.

Now for Toyota. Sonnjea contends that the correct standard American pronunciation is "toy-oh-ta." The last two vowels seem non-controversial for Sonnjea, as I suspect, when she says Toyota, the last vowel is more shwa-like or "uh"-like than "ah"-like. (Please forgive me, if I'm wrong Sonnjea and you have a beautiful "ah" at the end.) I suspect that the reason she hears it sometimes pronounced "TIE-oh-tuh" has something to do with the speaker playing with the diphthong or maybe he hears the first vowel differently to begin with.

You see the "oy" vowel in standard American pronunciation is made of up two different vowels elided together (a diphtong). The first vowel in "oy" is a not-so-round "oh" sound. The second is an "ih" sound like what we hear in "click" or "hit." ("oh" + "ih"). The diphthong in "eye" is made up of the "ah" sound - not like what we do when we go to the doctor, more like in the word "market", minus the "r" - followed by the "ih" sound mentioned above. ("ah + ih"). Great! You say. Clearly it's just diphthong substitution.

Not so fast! It's not just substituting any old "vowel-ih" combo for another. The "oh" of "oy" and the "ah" of "eye" are actually produced pretty close to one another in the mouth. The "oh" is in the back of the mouth and the "ah" is in the front, and both are made with the tongue on almost the same plane. And the "ah" actually requires less work from both the lips and tongue than the "oh" does. Americans LOVE to reduce vowels to schwa (the middle do-nothing vowel we probably all learned about in grade school), so this might just be a similar reduction.

Here's a link to the International Phonetic Alphabet's vowel chart. The "ih" of each diphthong noted is the "I" that looks like a capital "I", in the upper left corner. The "oh" is the one in the lower right that looks like a backward "c," and the "ah" in question is the "a" in the lower left hand corner. The chart is designed to show where in the mouth vowels are produced and how rounded or unrounded they are. For instance "ooo" is rounded, the "u" in the far upper right, and "eee" is unrounded, represented by the "i" in the far upper left.

After I figured out that Sonnjea's Toyota offenders are simply shifting their diphthongs - and my guess is that's probably a reflection of their native region or education - I had another observation. Sonnjea pronounces Toyota "toy-oh-ta." I grew up calling my family's car "To-yoh-tuh" or alternately, "Toy Yoda." I've heard both so much in pop culture, that I suspect both are equally acceptable in standard American pronunciation. The difference is really in where we break the syllables. I know very little about Japanese. If it's anything like other Asian languages I've kind of sniffed, my guess is that it disallows ending a syllable in a consonant, or if it allows syllable-ending consonants, they must be an "m," "n" or "ng." I'm leaning toward thinking they don't allow it. Using that point of view, either pronunciation is right. However, I really don't know if Japanese recognizes or allows diphthongs. If they allow diphthongs - yea! All pronunciations are technically permissible. But if they don't, then we're looking at "Toh-yoh-tah" being correct. That diphthong in English really puts words like Toyota on the fence when it comes to syllable break down, because it creates a glide there, a "ghost Y," if you will.

Sorry to geek out on y'all like that.

For the record, I agree with Sonnjea that people calling Swiffer "swifter" is annoying as hell, as anyone calling a Toyota a TIE-ohtuh would be. I'm indifferent to the Ikea/ee-kay-ah issue. It cracks me up more than anything. I just love language and simple phonology, and her wonderful post just inspired me to get out my gardening gloves. ... considering I'll have to be in that mode next week, when school starts again (groan), that's a good thing.

As for the response of faith issue (something VA Gal and I were discussing this weekend) I wanted to blog on, it'll probably have to wait till later this week when I have more time. I really wanted to make sure I blogged on this, because I'm a massive nerd. And because I like having my dessert first. ... which also probably explains why there's more of me to love these days! Yikes!

Three New Beautiful Moments - Weekend Edition

I have been meaning to blog all weekend and have not gotten around to it. Please pardon me, y'all if I haven't gotten around to surfing your blogs, either. I have been remiss this week.
Quick update: I accepted the job I was ambivalent about. I start in a couple of weeks. I'll be working freelance, but without a contract. My goal is to go in, kick some ass, learn some new stuff that I can take with me elsewhere and hopefully - unless this is really the place for me - bow out by graduation time in May and get a gig on another contract. We'll see. I need to learn to play life by ear.

Since it's been a little while since I've reflected on beauty in my life, here are three beautiful moments from the last few days, a la Clare.

1. dinner at my boss' house. AND that even though Honey was called in to work on an emergency, he chose to and managed to join us for dessert toward the end of the night. there were just 6 of us. she fixed lamb and roasted russet potatoes (mmm) as well as a corn soufflet. i had a marvelous time. and the fact that Honey made it just made me all smiley. maybe i'm a dork, but i love showing him off to coworkers.

2. meeting up with an old friend we'd lost touch with at Honey's company's holiday party. Saturday night, Honey's company threw their annual holiday party. if we lived in latin america or certain parts of Europe, I'd give them holiday credit for celebrating on Epiphany (1/6), aka Three Kings' Day, but since we live in the US, I just have to recognize that they're cheap. in any event, one of Honey's coworkers is dating a friend we'd lost touch with who we used to go to church with. it was such a great warm fuzzy to catch up with her. likewise, i got to chew the fat with the fiancee of one of Honey's coworkers and she was really cool, too. anytime you go to a company party of a company which does not employ you and you get to have good conversation with neat people, that is a moment to celebrate.

3. having dinner with VirginiaGal! i always love when we get to hang out, which is not often enough any more. so i cherish it all! (oh, and the great dream i had of her last night which i hope is a harbinger/premonition of good things for her in 2007)

Feliz Año Nuevo y el poste centésimo!

Feliz Año Nuevo! Felice Anno Nuovo! Gelukkig Nieuw Jaar! Glückliches Neues Jahr!
新年好! καλή χρονιά! 明けましておめでとう! С Новым годом! Feliz Ano Novo!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!*

(*My apologies to the genuine polyglots reading this who may recognize translational errors. I actually just cut and pasted from a translator site.)

I hope each and every one of you rang in the new year to your liking and that you had a safe first night as well as a fun one. Today I am not only celebrating the birth of 2007, but I am also celebrating my 100th post on this here blog. That's right: if this were television, my posts could start going into syndicated reruns! Huzzah for Molly!

I have 90 minutes until 2007 begins her second day - at least in this time zone - so I'll try to type quickly to keep this post a New Year post.

Last night was very low key. It was the lowest key New Year's Eve I'd had in a while, I think. We had another couple over and just played board and DVD games. Then we toasted in the New Year with Dick Clark and the throng in Time's Square. Today, Honey and I just padded around the house, eating leftovers and cookies and watching movies. We've each had the last week off and we've done little else besides eating cookies, Honey's bread and watching movies. It's been Heaven! Today we watched Joyeux Noel, The Promise and An Inconvenient Truth. Let's see if I can give a quick phrase review of each, respectively: 1) never a more beautiful treason - I sobbed ... a lot; 2) lovely, viscerally freaky and thematically pointless; 3) info we all know delivered with effective impact.

New year resolutions are not something I tend to pursue. When I have pursued them, I have broken them quickly, like so many of us are wont to do. Nevertheless, I do believe setting goals is a good thing, so I will list some goals for 2007 I want to accomplish. For most of these, I will set no timeline, nor punishment if I fail to achieve them. Here is what I hope to accomplish in 2007:
1. try my hand at stand up comedy at least once.
2. refrain from beginning most sentences in my blog or any other personal essay with "I" or some other lame "I"-related word or phrase.
3. have at least one job this year that is not an entry level position
4. practice patience, particularly with regards to those who test mine the most
5. attend church at least once a month ... synagogue counts, too, if I take up that shabat invitation I had to take a raincheck on last year
6. pray my mantra daily, and not just when I'm angry or feel guilty; pray also for the success and good will of my enemies both real and perceived; and generally more often and less selfishly
7. graduate!
8. be a more pro-active, engaged citizen
9. reduce, reuse, recycle more often
10. write an honest argument counter to my own opinion on a topic which I feel strongly about so that I can see the other side's point of view
11. hell: WRITE MORE! (and my thesis doesn't count for credit towards that)
12. increase the percentage of organic foods in my diet even more
13. start jogging regularly again
14. learn that I'm the boss of chocolates and sweets, they're not the boss of me
15. learn to accept that which I cannot control