Last night I forced myself to watch “The Comebacks.”  It was without a doubt the worst movie I’ve seen since anything else based entirely on boob and fart jokes.  It’s only redeeming quality was the inclusion of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing.”  It reminded me of a time when the world was a better place.  Well, maybe it was quite the same as it is now…only manifested in a much more “spandex” oriented fashion.  I had also just watched “The Invasion” starring a nice young lady named Nicole Kidman.  Journey drove home the point of the previous movie.

Though I don’t consider myself a small town girl…the world is a lonely place without human emotions.  We can argue all day that war and crime are bad…but the reality is that they are a manifestation of uncontrolled human passion.  Murder, suicide, love, kindness; they are all manifestations of human passion and though some appear more grotesque…they all come from the same place.  Suffering makes us who we are.  This isn’t an invitation for people to define themselves by their suffering and become professional victims, but to simply acknowledge that Paul’s statements were universally true…for Christians, Jews, Muslims and Atheists alike.  (if you happen to belong to a minor religion, please substitute one of the previously listed ones with your own)(yes atheism is a religion..don’t be stupid)

We rejoice in our suffering because suffering produces perseverance, perseverance; character and character hope.  Hope doesn’t dissapoint us because God has poured out his love into our hearts.

Some of the most beautiful people I know, love and respect were produced by a life of suffering and trials.  Broken homes, loved ones lost, shattered hearts and bruised bodies made us who we are.

___

For the record “fart” is not in my spell checker’s dictionary?  What the crap…

This is what I look at when I write to you…for the record.

There it is.  Virginia and I are now a smaller part of a larger corporate scheme to advertise tot the masses by appealing to their pride.

Incidentally this was my christmas gift this year.  Very Cool!

I spent a few months on Facebook. It was private, personal and relatively non-consumeristic. With the recent addition of public access and media overload, I’ve abandoned it on account of it being a piece of worthless crap. This is my opinion.

So phuey. No more FB.

Well, School is almost over and I must say, it’s been a helluva ride.  I’m way behind on taking car of my website and now that mommy has high speed internet, she’s become my biggest critic…”where’s yer papers?”  she sais…well, give me another week to finish two exams, 4 papers and a day of playing computer games and eating takeout and I will have that up and running for you.

Without regard to his personal privacy…my dad is moving to a new job.  Today is in fact his final day working for a company that he has served for 19 years.

He’s moving on to a job in the prairies building something new all over again.  Gilbertson’s was a rather small company when he started there and he watched it grow into something bigger than I think anyone imagined.  Now he gets to watch something else grow as the site he’ll be working at next is a mere bush lot in Northern Manitoba.

I’ve taken for granted perhaps the time and proximity that he and I have shared over the preceding couple of years and I will certainly miss them.  Building a relationship with my father is something I will never regret doing since opportunities for that were absent in my youth.

So, congratulations Dad.  I wish you the best a pray for the rest…to sound a might cliche.  May the success of you past follow you into your future.

This is take three of Norah Jones’ “Don’t Know Why.”  Do enjoy.

– LINK -

I never thought I would cross into the realm of hoity-toity fresh pasta making granola eaters…but alas, I have.  My mom came to visit this past week and bore gifts of great joy for Virginia and I.  One I cannot speak of until such time as Virginia’s birthday, the other…a pasta making attachment for my Kitchen-Aid.  Here’s a couple of pictures of my first kick a the can.

Chef Boyardee can kiss my French-Canadian butt.