Nicole Hearn
This morning I got an email from the comment moderation service on one of my numerous neglected blogs. It informed me that someone had commented on my blog with an eloquent two-word comment, and I quote, "Nice blog." It was also accompanied by a smiley-face. So, not recognizing the name of the commenter, I clicked on their profile and found their blog. The title of the blog sharply contrasted the monosyllabic words they used to compliment me. It was, and I quote again, "Technical Analysis Japanese Candlesticks Charting Stocks Forex Commodities Futures Indices". (No, seriously.) What a mouthful!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
I Am A Baby
by Katie Townsend
I am a baby, and right now I live in a sac of water,
but my Mommy doesn't want me, my Mommy is taking me to slaughter.
Mommy doesn't know that I am alive,
she doesn't realize that when they kill me, she'll never get to hear me cry.
She says it's all for the best, laying me in my grave to rest,
She says there is no other way, so she's going to murder me today.
When it's all over, and I'm disfigured and dead,
Mommy will start thinking about me, laying there on her bed.
One tear will come, then two, three, and four,
because she sees now that she wasn't so very poor.
She sees now that killing me was not the best way,
but praise God, as a result of this, my Mommy gave her life to Jesus today.
I am a baby, and right now I live in a sac of water,
but my Mommy doesn't want me, my Mommy is taking me to slaughter.
Mommy doesn't know that I am alive,
she doesn't realize that when they kill me, she'll never get to hear me cry.
She says it's all for the best, laying me in my grave to rest,
She says there is no other way, so she's going to murder me today.
When it's all over, and I'm disfigured and dead,
Mommy will start thinking about me, laying there on her bed.
One tear will come, then two, three, and four,
because she sees now that she wasn't so very poor.
She sees now that killing me was not the best way,
but praise God, as a result of this, my Mommy gave her life to Jesus today.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
No Coffee?
by Allie Billings
Our home-room fiddle teacher walked through the cafeteria door and everyone at our table waved to him, though we decided not to say much as he turned his head to look at us with reddened eyes and pursed mouth. That's one thing fiddle camp does to everyone - makes them a bit insane for lack of sleep. Funny how we all keep coming back. Danny continued to fumble his way over the coffee counter on the other side of the cafeteria, Camden trailing him for his second cup of coffee. Our teacher jutted his chin out, trying to focus on the coffee cups, and realized that he was in the soda section of the drink wall. He sidestepped, running into a few people and apologizing profusely. Once again, he went through the two minute routine of looking for the coffee cups, jutting his chin out and squinting his eyes. He picked one up finally, but ran his fingers on the inside of the cup and decided that it wasn't fit to drink out of. Neither was the next. Or the next.
This went on.
And Camden was standing behind him, pondering the complications of life in the morning and waiting for his turn at the coffee counter.
Danny opened the spigot to pour his coffee, and one last time, realized that the cup he held in his hand was not washed correctly (he's just paranoid - they were fine) and so he put it back and reached for his seventh cup.
"There's this little bit of grundge on the sides of the cups, see?" he said, turning to Camden to show him. Camden smiled his "whatever you say" smile and nodded his head, but kept watching the coffee run out of the cantine.. onto the drink counter.. onto Danny's leg.. and finally to the floor.
"Um, Danny - the coffee, it's-"
"Oh. Oh, my. Oh, no. This is terrible. There's none left." Danny looked like he was going to cry. He aggrievedly put his cup back onto the counter, a bit remorseful that he'd spent all that time trying to FIND one in the first place, and meandered away listlessly.
Camden, raising an eyebrow at his teacher's not-totally-awake-state, stepped up to the coffee spout, tipped up the container, filled his cup, and bounced off to relocate the sugar and creamer.
Our home-room fiddle teacher walked through the cafeteria door and everyone at our table waved to him, though we decided not to say much as he turned his head to look at us with reddened eyes and pursed mouth. That's one thing fiddle camp does to everyone - makes them a bit insane for lack of sleep. Funny how we all keep coming back. Danny continued to fumble his way over the coffee counter on the other side of the cafeteria, Camden trailing him for his second cup of coffee. Our teacher jutted his chin out, trying to focus on the coffee cups, and realized that he was in the soda section of the drink wall. He sidestepped, running into a few people and apologizing profusely. Once again, he went through the two minute routine of looking for the coffee cups, jutting his chin out and squinting his eyes. He picked one up finally, but ran his fingers on the inside of the cup and decided that it wasn't fit to drink out of. Neither was the next. Or the next.
This went on.
And Camden was standing behind him, pondering the complications of life in the morning and waiting for his turn at the coffee counter.
Danny opened the spigot to pour his coffee, and one last time, realized that the cup he held in his hand was not washed correctly (he's just paranoid - they were fine) and so he put it back and reached for his seventh cup.
"There's this little bit of grundge on the sides of the cups, see?" he said, turning to Camden to show him. Camden smiled his "whatever you say" smile and nodded his head, but kept watching the coffee run out of the cantine.. onto the drink counter.. onto Danny's leg.. and finally to the floor.
"Um, Danny - the coffee, it's-"
"Oh. Oh, my. Oh, no. This is terrible. There's none left." Danny looked like he was going to cry. He aggrievedly put his cup back onto the counter, a bit remorseful that he'd spent all that time trying to FIND one in the first place, and meandered away listlessly.
Camden, raising an eyebrow at his teacher's not-totally-awake-state, stepped up to the coffee spout, tipped up the container, filled his cup, and bounced off to relocate the sugar and creamer.
Beware Your Enemies
by Katie Townsend
My worst enemy called to pay a visit today,
It said, "I’m here to teach you, to show you the way".
And my heart, which is deceitful above all else,
Believed it, that is, my enemy called Self.
My Self said: It’s okay to skip my reading today.
And: It’s okay to not pray before I begin my day.
And there my deceived heart lay.
So I did not read, and I did not pray.
And for this, I soon began to pay.
I soon lost touch with Truth and reality,
I began compromising all morality.
And so things continued like this for a while,
I kept adding more and more mistakes to the pile.
Till one day I saw my bible on my bed,
And I thought, "it’s been a week since I’ve read!"
I began to read, and this is what it said:
"But God forbid that I should glory,
save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,
by whom the world is crucified unto me,
and I unto the world."
Then before my eyes, the banner of Truth unfurled!
I am alive to Christ, dead to the world!
I then rejected what Self had said to be the way,
And I kneeled, and began to pray.
I prayed for forgiveness and purity,
I prayed for meekness and humility.
And now I know, when Self knocks on the door of my heart,
I will firmly say "you and I have no part!"
Then I will go to my Savior and say,
"Blessed was that glorious day
That you saved me from myself,
For you are my Guide and Light above all else!"
(verse used is Galatians 6:14)
© K. L. Townsend-August 2006
My worst enemy called to pay a visit today,
It said, "I’m here to teach you, to show you the way".
And my heart, which is deceitful above all else,
Believed it, that is, my enemy called Self.
My Self said: It’s okay to skip my reading today.
And: It’s okay to not pray before I begin my day.
And there my deceived heart lay.
So I did not read, and I did not pray.
And for this, I soon began to pay.
I soon lost touch with Truth and reality,
I began compromising all morality.
And so things continued like this for a while,
I kept adding more and more mistakes to the pile.
Till one day I saw my bible on my bed,
And I thought, "it’s been a week since I’ve read!"
I began to read, and this is what it said:
"But God forbid that I should glory,
save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,
by whom the world is crucified unto me,
and I unto the world."
Then before my eyes, the banner of Truth unfurled!
I am alive to Christ, dead to the world!
I then rejected what Self had said to be the way,
And I kneeled, and began to pray.
I prayed for forgiveness and purity,
I prayed for meekness and humility.
And now I know, when Self knocks on the door of my heart,
I will firmly say "you and I have no part!"
Then I will go to my Savior and say,
"Blessed was that glorious day
That you saved me from myself,
For you are my Guide and Light above all else!"
(verse used is Galatians 6:14)
© K. L. Townsend-August 2006
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Hesperia Old-Timers
by Nicole Hearn
For years my mom has been being invited to this, "Hesperia Old Timers" party where people who have lived in Hesperia 25 years or more go to this gathering to socialize and reminisce. This year, for the first time since mom has qualified, we decided to go. (Interestingly enough, I remember my mom when she didn't qualify. She was a few years older than I am now at the time. Scary.)
We were in church until after it started but as soon as church let out we went, with potluck dishes and all eight of us. We were very out-of-place, considering the average age of attendees, but it was tons of fun and highly entertaining.
When we came in the door.....single file....I am not sure the lady at the desk actually knew what to do with all of us. I stayed behind with dad and Whitney to write name tags and enter names into the Doorprize drawing, at which time the lady cautiously asked, "So.....is this your only child?" She was gesturing towards Whitney. I straightened, realized she was talking to me, and said, perhaps a little too cheerfully, "Oh, no; she's my sister." I probably should have broken the news gently because I'm afraid that kind of news at her age was about to cause complete cardiac arrest. Once she recovered from the initial shock, she asked my dad, with equal hesitation, "So.....was she a surprise?"
"No," dad said, grinning in mom's direction, "We've been practicing." Apparently she thought it was the most clever thing she'd heard in awhile; I heard her repeating it to other guests later.
We sat down---accounting for about 13.3333333 percent of the audience---and shortly thereafter went to get lunch from the potluck spread, then sat down to eat. Jay started eating this cake and he was like, "I've tasted this flavor before.....but I can't remember what exactly it tastes like. Kind-of like water. The flavor is in the aftertaste." My curiosity was piqued and so I took a bite of his cake and, sure enough, afterwards it tasted like water. Then mom of course had to have some and we all eventually came to the conclusion that it tasted like mold and/or an alcoholic beverage of some kind. Daniel asked for a piece of the cake and for some strange reason Jay got him that kind. Mom, wanting healthy/un-drunk children, told Daniel that he could have a different piece and that dad would eat the "cake that doesn't taste very good" for him.
Turns out we were sitting in The Entertainment Section. It wasn't supposed to be that, per se, but this trio of very loud females was sitting near us and they regularly repeated everything that was being said at the front of the room and amongst themselves.
Someone would announce a door prize.....(this is an actual near-perfect transcription of a conversation that took place during the course of the afternoon):
"Oh, look, Sharon got a door prize."
"I wonder what she'll get! There she goes! Go on down, Sharon!" (Smatterings of applause.)
"That's nice. Sharon deserves a nice prize. I hope she gets one."
"Oh! She picked a scarf! I made that scarf!"
(Hollering:) "Sharon, Jonelle made that scarf! It's double crocheted!"
"Yes, it's double-crocheted. Look at it in the light and you can see; it's double-crocheted! Hold it up to the light! There you go. Yes....do you see?"
"Wow, so, is it for winter?"
"Yes, Jonelle can teach you how to tie it properly; it's double-crocheted."
None of this, mind you, was at all said in a whisper, meaning that while it was going on (read: all of the time) it was pretty much impossible to hear what was happening from the microphone. Not that that was much more interesting; the rare excitement was when an older gentleman came up and made some announcement about an Austin Powers dance he had conducted with some female guest on a cruise ship, and wisecracks from a woman who looked like the sixties hadn't been good to her and regularly came to the microphone to give us short messages of unknown significance.
We ended up winning two door prizes; Jay wasn't around when he won his so I went up to collect it for him and there was some mild form of panic when they realized that I wasn't Jay; it managed to resolve itself when I told them that he wasn't around and I was getting it for him. Both of our prizes were the exact same thing--a jar opener that we didn't need. (Mom suggested donating them back but under the circumstances that didn't seem like a very good idea.) The lady behind us won what The Trio Behind Us called, "A magnetic post-it!" In actuality it was a list for to-do items, with the very interesting title of, "Doggy Doo."
The Trio had many comments about that.
"Oh, Doggy Doo!" Too loudly.
"That's kind of like Honey-Do......only......Doggy Doo. You know, a Honey-Do list? But it's Doggy-Doo. Isn't that cute!"
Jay leaned over to me and whispered, "That is for single women."
For years my mom has been being invited to this, "Hesperia Old Timers" party where people who have lived in Hesperia 25 years or more go to this gathering to socialize and reminisce. This year, for the first time since mom has qualified, we decided to go. (Interestingly enough, I remember my mom when she didn't qualify. She was a few years older than I am now at the time. Scary.)
We were in church until after it started but as soon as church let out we went, with potluck dishes and all eight of us. We were very out-of-place, considering the average age of attendees, but it was tons of fun and highly entertaining.
When we came in the door.....single file....I am not sure the lady at the desk actually knew what to do with all of us. I stayed behind with dad and Whitney to write name tags and enter names into the Doorprize drawing, at which time the lady cautiously asked, "So.....is this your only child?" She was gesturing towards Whitney. I straightened, realized she was talking to me, and said, perhaps a little too cheerfully, "Oh, no; she's my sister." I probably should have broken the news gently because I'm afraid that kind of news at her age was about to cause complete cardiac arrest. Once she recovered from the initial shock, she asked my dad, with equal hesitation, "So.....was she a surprise?"
"No," dad said, grinning in mom's direction, "We've been practicing." Apparently she thought it was the most clever thing she'd heard in awhile; I heard her repeating it to other guests later.
We sat down---accounting for about 13.3333333 percent of the audience---and shortly thereafter went to get lunch from the potluck spread, then sat down to eat. Jay started eating this cake and he was like, "I've tasted this flavor before.....but I can't remember what exactly it tastes like. Kind-of like water. The flavor is in the aftertaste." My curiosity was piqued and so I took a bite of his cake and, sure enough, afterwards it tasted like water. Then mom of course had to have some and we all eventually came to the conclusion that it tasted like mold and/or an alcoholic beverage of some kind. Daniel asked for a piece of the cake and for some strange reason Jay got him that kind. Mom, wanting healthy/un-drunk children, told Daniel that he could have a different piece and that dad would eat the "cake that doesn't taste very good" for him.
Turns out we were sitting in The Entertainment Section. It wasn't supposed to be that, per se, but this trio of very loud females was sitting near us and they regularly repeated everything that was being said at the front of the room and amongst themselves.
Someone would announce a door prize.....(this is an actual near-perfect transcription of a conversation that took place during the course of the afternoon):
"Oh, look, Sharon got a door prize."
"I wonder what she'll get! There she goes! Go on down, Sharon!" (Smatterings of applause.)
"That's nice. Sharon deserves a nice prize. I hope she gets one."
"Oh! She picked a scarf! I made that scarf!"
(Hollering:) "Sharon, Jonelle made that scarf! It's double crocheted!"
"Yes, it's double-crocheted. Look at it in the light and you can see; it's double-crocheted! Hold it up to the light! There you go. Yes....do you see?"
"Wow, so, is it for winter?"
"Yes, Jonelle can teach you how to tie it properly; it's double-crocheted."
None of this, mind you, was at all said in a whisper, meaning that while it was going on (read: all of the time) it was pretty much impossible to hear what was happening from the microphone. Not that that was much more interesting; the rare excitement was when an older gentleman came up and made some announcement about an Austin Powers dance he had conducted with some female guest on a cruise ship, and wisecracks from a woman who looked like the sixties hadn't been good to her and regularly came to the microphone to give us short messages of unknown significance.
We ended up winning two door prizes; Jay wasn't around when he won his so I went up to collect it for him and there was some mild form of panic when they realized that I wasn't Jay; it managed to resolve itself when I told them that he wasn't around and I was getting it for him. Both of our prizes were the exact same thing--a jar opener that we didn't need. (Mom suggested donating them back but under the circumstances that didn't seem like a very good idea.) The lady behind us won what The Trio Behind Us called, "A magnetic post-it!" In actuality it was a list for to-do items, with the very interesting title of, "Doggy Doo."
The Trio had many comments about that.
"Oh, Doggy Doo!" Too loudly.
"That's kind of like Honey-Do......only......Doggy Doo. You know, a Honey-Do list? But it's Doggy-Doo. Isn't that cute!"
Jay leaned over to me and whispered, "That is for single women."
We're Unique. Just Like Everyone Else.
WELCOME.
Since I don't have a reputation for wonderful writing following me around like a puppy on a leash, I'm going to start this with Hi! My name is Allie, and I'm sixteen. (Children, never do this at home.) Bright, Less Bright, and Completely Burned Out is a "community" blog of sorts, and there will be several people writing for it. Enjoy - and if you have any questions or statements to make, leave a comment.
THE ORIGIN OF THE NAME.
I didn't come up with it. I promise. See, I have this weird friend named Katie, who will be writing for the Bright Blog (BB) frequently, had a Midnight Inspiration, as she calls it. I prefer Midnight Madness, but hey. Is it ever up to me?
THE PURPOSE.
This part I did come up with. The purpose of the BB is to give entertaining reading to those of you who actually have the time and are willing to split a gut laughing every once in a while. We also wish to honor our Lord Jesus Christ with this blog. If you see anything that could improve us, please! Leave a comment.
WRITERS.
Nicole Hearn, CA
Katie Townsend, TX
Thanks for dropping in!
God bless!
-Allie
Since I don't have a reputation for wonderful writing following me around like a puppy on a leash, I'm going to start this with Hi! My name is Allie, and I'm sixteen. (Children, never do this at home.) Bright, Less Bright, and Completely Burned Out is a "community" blog of sorts, and there will be several people writing for it. Enjoy - and if you have any questions or statements to make, leave a comment.
THE ORIGIN OF THE NAME.
I didn't come up with it. I promise. See, I have this weird friend named Katie, who will be writing for the Bright Blog (BB) frequently, had a Midnight Inspiration, as she calls it. I prefer Midnight Madness, but hey. Is it ever up to me?
THE PURPOSE.
This part I did come up with. The purpose of the BB is to give entertaining reading to those of you who actually have the time and are willing to split a gut laughing every once in a while. We also wish to honor our Lord Jesus Christ with this blog. If you see anything that could improve us, please! Leave a comment.
WRITERS.
Nicole Hearn, CA
Katie Townsend, TX
Thanks for dropping in!
God bless!
-Allie
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