Weird Science

I can't remember how long this bowl of strawberry puree has been in the fridge. But long enough to get a carpet of mold. Some little person would thrill to have such a perfect piece of felt for their miniature house! What did I do with it you ask? I stuck it back in the fridge for further development.

Good Friday

O God in heaven, have mercy on us! Lord Jesus Christ,
intercede for your people, deliver us at the opportune time,
preserve in us the true genuine Christian faith, collect your
scattered sheep with your voice, your divine Word as Holy Writ
calls it. Help us to recognize your voice, help us not to be
allured by the madness of the world, so that we may never fall
away from you, O Lord Jesus Christ.
... Albrecht Durer (1471-1528)

I'm St. Melito of Sardis!

"You have a great love of history and liturgy. You’re attached to the
traditions of the ancients, yet you recognize that the old world — great as it
was — is passing away. You are loyal to the customs of your family, though you
do not hesitate to call family members to account for their sins."

Well how about that-this does sound like me. Check out which church father you are (if you're not shocked! shocked! at the patriarchical favoritism of it all.) As for me, I'm going to take it again until I recognize a name.

I AM...

...a pre-modern stuck in a post-modern world.

I THINK...

...pulchritude is the ugliest word for beauty.

I FEEL...

...like wallpaper. Expected to be there, but often overlooked and largely unnoticed.

Miscellaneous

Squats

Squatter communities are everywhere. People live on the train tracks, the grassy road medians, any place where they can put together cardboard, rice sacks, tarps or anything they can find to make four walls and a roof. These are the kids that grow up in them. The kids are so adorable it makes me ache to see their wretched living conditions.

Danica

I have to go all the way to the Philippines to find my name popular. Out of these 100 kids two were named Danica. I don't know why considering it's a Danish name not Spanish. Odd.

Delicacy

I have no stomach for balut a delicacy of boiled duck embryo. Fortunately Steve had the iron girded esophagus that could keep this baby down. He described it as slimy similar to eating oyesters. He didn't chew it just swallowed it whole with a dash of salt.

Sights and Smells

To and Fro

Intro to the Philippines

This photo gives but a hint of the general melee that is Manila traffic. I don't think they have a concept of right of way, but I could be wrong. You'll notice that as we are driving straight ahead cars are turning to the left and the right of us at the same time. To help with congestion they've removed intersections. Instead, you have to drive past your left turn and do a U-turn. Usually, it's you and three or four other cars all making the turn together into on coming traffic. I can't imagine a traffic light causing more confusion and congestion than a five abreast U-turn.

Steve's Aunt Alice has a unique approach to traffic cops. After making a left hand turn (which is illegal-see above about the u-turn business) and being waved to stop by a traffic cop (they stand in the street making a general nuisance of themselves) she said, "If you stop, then you'll spend all day on the side of road arguing with them." And with that, she sailed on by refusing to stop. Until, that is, they hopped on their scooters and cycles and chased us down forcing her to pull over. She's lived in the Philippines for 36 years and could count on one hand the number of times she's been pulled over. On a previous occasion a cop pulled her over on the baseless accusation that she had passed a car in a No Overtake zone. How could that be, she asked, when we haven't seen let alone passed a single car on this road? She argued her way out of that episode by telling him she was in his country helping his people so he should let her go. And he did. What makes traffic stops so annoying is that they take your license and force you to spend a day retrieving it after paying a large fine. Gov't bureaucracy...gotta love it. Can't blame her for ignoring the buggers.

Reflection

I realized, while scrubbing the kitchen sink clean of raw chicken juice, that I’m not a goal maker or goal achiever. I like to think that I am, but really I’m not. I used to contemplate resolutions and list out goals, but I never accomplished them so I only wound up depressed at my lack of ambition and my subsequent failure to produce. Yet….I FEEL like I need to be goal driven, ambitious, driven to succeed, to accomplish great things. I’m not content with being ordinary, yet I don’t have the ambition to be extraordinary. The problem as I see it is that I’m a consummate dilettante. I’m interested in too many potential life scenarios to commit to just one, or rather, be trapped by any one. If I get close to making a commitment to pursuing one particular dream, I can always talk myself out of it and into a different one. I don’t have enough passion for any one dream to get it off the ground. Should I be bothered by this or simply accept it?

I want to eat those cheeks!

I'm an Auntie!

My sister finally gave birth to her first child! He was a week overdue. I was beginning to think my sister had a large growth instead of a baby in there. But no. At 4:35pm on August 1, 2006 Dexter Stanley popped out at 7 lbs 9 oz and 20 1/4" long. He's also the first grandchild for the family so my parents are probably crying from delight right about now. They've waited thirteen years for this kid to appear on the scene, not that they were pushy or anything. I told my sister she had to be the first to give birth. It's her duty as the eldest. Now that she's done it, I guess this means I'm next....eek!

A ring of hell

This report reminded me of those plastic surgery horror stories you'd hear in the 80's. I want to say this happened to Kenny Rogers, but I can't be sure. The doctore would suck the fat from thighs and buttocks but then the remaining lumps of lard would redistribute to a place more unsightly for fat deposits than the original position like the back.

We thought we excised the Taliban from Afghanistan only to witness the horror of it reappearing in Somalia. I didn't think Mogadishu could get any worse, but I'm obviously wrong. Although, some semblance of structure might be a relief to the inhabitants after decades of anarchy. How long will that relief last when you can get stoned for painted toenails?

I must admit to a morbid curiousity about Mogadishu. How much chaos, violence, and evil can a people withstand? In their case it appears limitless. After all these years Mogadishu still exists as an entity unto itself run first by warlords who didn't answer to the larger government and now the Taliban who will not defer to the Somalian government either. Who do you think has the greater resolve to win all of Somalia?

Death is not the End

My day was filled with thoughts of death. I had no intention to think about death all day. It started with Moxy (not her real name) a woman I work with telling me about her grandma. She was 87 years old and only ate hot cereal for breakfast. One morning she woke up and told her husband to prepare her bacon and eggs. She sat down across from her son and started to dig in. After taking a few bites her head fell back and her eyes rolled up. Died on the spot. That is the perfect way to die. In action doing something enjoyable with people you love all around living life to the very end. Granted it was a bit shocking to the son and husband, but I’m sure they’d much prefer that than watching her waste away in a hospital month after month day after day.

Moxy then brought up her desire to kayak around the Channel Islands, but she’d heard the water is shark infested so she’s a bit fearful. Her friend kayaked down the California coast. About the time he got to the cliffs of Big Sur he noticed a shark the size of his kayak following him. The shark tracked him for over a mile determining if this strange object was worth the effort of attack. Creepy! That got us started on the topic of violent death. Ways we'd choose to die IF it had to be violent. Any kind of death connected to water is abhorrent to me. It took living in Hawaii for six months to make me amenable to swimming in the ocean as I always had a fear of odd creatures eating my toes. My imagination kicks into overdrive especially in a lake since I can’t see the bottom and I know some snakes like lakes. About the only type of water death that doesn’t terrify me is drowning in a pool. A pool is so suburban and banal I can’t work up any fear about it.

From this conversation it seemed perfectly natural to check out the LA Coroner’s website. I’d heard that you could take a tour. I didn’t find any tour info, but I did find the section with photos of unidentified dead bodies. My morbid curiosity led me to look at all of them despite the depressing nature of their stories. Many of them were suicides mostly jumpers. Many were homeless folks with no real identification only street names used as façades for their lives between the cracks. Behind the façade is a mystery that the Coroner’s office is hoping will be solved by people like me randomly looking through photos. One of the mysteries was an Asian guy between 22 and 32. He had kidnapped one or two people and held them for ransom. One of the victims pulled free turned on the kidnapper and shot him with his (the Kidnapper) own gun. Now he’s in the morgue unidentified. So many sordid stories encapsulated in those photos.

After that “tour” I was thoroughly depressed. Depressed at the “lives of quiet desperation” they must have lived. Depressed that they had no hope, no love, and no joy to sustain them through trials and troubles. Depressed at the violence that shaped and ended their lives. Depressed because many people think death is the end. They despair of this life and hope for relief in the next or they hope for non-existence the cessation of all thought and experience. Unfortunately for them, death is not the end. It’s merely the beginning of life with God or life without God based on our choices before death. Do we believe in the promise of life given to us through Jesus Christ or not? This life is preparation for the life to come.

I leave you with the lyrics to “Death is not the End” by Nick Cave:

When you’re sad and when you’re lonely And you haven’t got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that you held sacred Falls down and does not mend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
When you’re standing on the crossroads That you cannot comprehend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all your dreams have vanished And you don’t know what’s up the bend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
When the storm clouds gather round you And heavy rains descend
Just remember that death is not the end
And there’s no-one there to comfort you With a helping hand to lend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
For the tree of life is growing Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation Up in dark and empty skies
When the cities are on fire With the burning flesh of men
Just remember that death is not the end
When you search in vain to find Some law-abiding citizen
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end