In exactly one month from now I will be on a plane, heading to East Asia. Nervousness, excitedness and general unknowingness fill my mind with what the adventure on the other side of the pond will bring. It will only last for a week, but I am praying for God to move in big ways. But...I tend to start in little ways. A language book is my first order of business, and as I boggle and bundle my way through rather ridiculously, my lips sputtering and tongue slaughtering the words, I think "I need of a tutor." English is my spoken word, but I have always had a fascination with other cultures and their speech. German, Spanish, Italian and Mandarin Chinese are now among my attempted languages, hopefully the last one won't end in frustration like the former. Thus, my tutoring begins. Luer Jin is my unofficial interpreter and official friend, willing to help me when I feel like throwing my book in the dirt. Her accent is beautiful, but she slows her perfect pronunciation ...
No, my '84 Ford Crown Victoria (a.k.a. Queen Vicky) has not had a break down. Yet. Yes, her Majesty squeals and complains with a low intolerance for being ignored, but she still has a huge heart. And a huge body. More on her later... Actually, mental breakdowns are the life ordeals to which I am referring. Everyone has them (this is not based on any statistic or figure, just plain human nature). They are defined as those times in which one completely loses oneself mentally, becoming unstable, irrational and an overall nutcase to be around. Now, there are perfectly justifiable reasons why breakdowns should occur, too many for me to calculate at this time, in fact. Financial stress, occupational stress, emotional stress (for women, you know to what time of month this applies), physical stress, etc, etc, etc. My personal breakdowns happen to be a combination of most all of these factors. I was talking to a friend and the subject of future plans and family expectations came up, which o...
You know those certain memory-joggers that make your day? My memory joggers usually come in the form of a snippet of song or a movie quote. I hear a little tune or catch a line and my mind goes on a roller coaster ride of remembrance. I'll be having a normal day, brushing my teeth or sorting my mail and wham-o! That forgotten song comes on and my mind skips and speeds on my memory's tilt-a-whirl. When I make it to the end of the ride I can't get the smile off my face. My day has been made. My current memory-jogger came in the form of a brilliant mash-up of two of The Rivington's tunes. It's called "Bird is the Word"and whenever I hear it, my day is never the same. It causes my mental roller coaster to zip away to a night where strangers became friends. It was an impromptu get-together with a few fellow college students who were naturally awkward and inclined to social shyness. But, when one of the company burst into a solo rendition of "Bird...
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