Thursday, July 30, 2009

Quote Them

“But I should say that I, and the rest of entertainers, don’t know a god-durned nothing about policies. We’re too busy self-aggrandizing to come up with any solutions. It’s amazing how many entertainers can find time between adopting children to tell you how to live your life.”
Chris Isaak,
musician
asked by The Washington Post to comment about California's economic crisis


Saturday, July 25, 2009

Boogie Down the Aisle

A joyful bride and her merry maidens and men. Check out the viral internet sensation of the dancing wedding party.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

the Thrill of the Fight



You look different, he said.

It might have been the new shirt from Target. Or maybe it's the wind. Either way, despite my aversion to the word "change", I've had some. A friend of mine, and one of my blog readers, sent me a direct message on Twitter today about a recent photo I posted.
"Your countenance has changed. Sarah, Ayn Rand, perhaps a guy, perhaps you're older-don't know," he said.
Whatever has happened, it isn't a guy. Look at how fast we can narrow our choices! Was it Sarah Palin? Reading "Atlas Shrugged"? My new zest for teff bread? Perhaps we'll never know. There are mysteries in life that compel educated men to dig in the dirt with little toothbrushes. And still, they only have guesses and conjecture.

I gave it a little thought. A little. And with me, that means I dissected his words into letters and then into sounds and then into groanings of a primal, medieval form.
"You're blogging increased dramatically. Changed from personal stuff to natl/world matters," he said. "Definitely more driven. Like somebody plugged you into a light socket. Olderness makes people more production oriented. I've observed."

So I looked older? I'm not going there.
Actually, his thoughts sparked my thought bubble, my light bulb, my zing of understanding. Being driven. I had been thinking about that for days.

Yesterday, I got a call from a friend. It was one of those calls where you instantly know they are frustrated, not with you but with life. Pleasantries are disposed of. Instead they jump right in with, "Have you ever experienced..."
My friend had a problem of progress. He viewed his life, his accomplishments, his economic and personal status, and wanted to achieve more. In pre-Obama, pre-Lefty extremism America, you considered this aversion to status quo an attribute. Reach for those stars. Succeed. Be all that you can be. Success begets success. Those that achieved opened roads to other achievers. Trickle-down economics still dripped.

In all honesty, I'm not so sure we've completely given up the dream. We still want success. We want fame (in moderation) and fortune (in a Swiss bank account) and the good life. We want the happy ending, the thrilling beginning, and the comfy middle. We've forgotten, however, it required a fight. Or maybe our competitive muscles simply atrophied.

I don't know if I'm sandwiched between lazy generations or it's basic misconception. We've been taught you're special for being a color, not a character. Different is only good in thus, thus forms. Individuals outside the box, angling their view around current culture - from questioning global warming to Matt Damon's political prowess - should be shunned. And for too long, shunned we've stayed.

Yesterday, I told my friend, "Personally speaking, I don't know when I got the ignorant idea life was suppose to be easy. When did I decide success should come because I was ready for it?" I wasn't raised with that mentality, but my frustration at the fight ahead revealed the ugly truth: I had entitlement issues, too.

So life is hard. Yeah. It's universally known, printed on coffee mugs and embroidered on pillows. I won't be recognized as more than a state writer because I want it. That takes earning. And that's, actually, how I want it.
It won't come from catching a break. It'll come from writing a few hundred thousand more words, reading my thesaurus like a Dean Koontz thriller, losing innumerable nights of sleep because inspiration always hits at midnight, and working for it until adjectives produce beads of forehead perspiration.

At some mile marker on this journey, I realized my conservative values, as well, won't win easily. I might have to attend some rallies, write more blogs, read more history, prepare more arguments, have more conversations, encourage more voters, volunteer more time, actively and purposefully seek more personal drive.
It's going to take work. Conservatism won't win simply because we're ready, we're annoyed, we're devastated at the turn of national events. I hope I never forget: I don't believe in entitlement.

So, yes. I look different. Perhaps it's the competitive glint back in my eye. Perhaps it was a speck of dust. Whatever he saw, I feel it, like a growl rising from my throat. I'm sick of being silenced, sick of the intimidation, sick of being spurned for my beliefs. And when individual freedom is on the line, losing gracefully is only losing.

I'm so ready for a fight.
Cue the cheesy Rocky music.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

America a Christian Nation. Notice the absence of a question mark.



America wasn't founded on Christian principles. Yep. I can believe that as long as I ignore history. ALL of it.
David Barton, founder of Wallbuilders, was a man my parents introduced to me at an early age. I learned more from one of his 30-minute videos than my entire four years of High School history. And I enjoyed it.
History fun? You know it. Fiction is never better than the truth. And America's history is one of the best stories every written, with love and loss and war and sacrifice and valor and inspiration and pulse-pounding revolution.
Barton spoke this past Sunday at Dr. Charles Stanley's church, giving a brief, very brief, overview of the foundations of our nation, from why a Christian nation is the only way for all religions to be free and how capitalism is the only way for individuals to flourish. And it's all spelled out, uh huh, in the Bible.

I can't embed the video. But here is the link.
I encourage to the point of implore you to watch it. It's 30 minutes long. Break it up and watch pieces of it, if you want. I plan on watching it a few hundred times until I can grasp everything he's saying. Not kidding. I have this kind of time on my hands.
Okay, no I don't. But I'm going to do it anyway.

If the entire country could grasp only the points and facts presented in this well-done, fast-paced presentation, only these points, America would remain the last best hope for freedom. Instead, we're selling our rights off, one at a time, for the idea it makes us a better, more caring, more compassionate, more enlightened individual. When, in actuality, we're being led into economic and cultural slavery with a stupid grin on our face.

Colorado or Bust


Hello rabid Conservatives.

Tomorrow I leave for Colorado and am absent for about 10 days. Yes, I have a house-sitter. He's a big guy, too, so don't even think about messing with my property. I'm a conservative, as is he, which means we're always armed and just itching for someone to give us a reason to shoot.

In preparation to leave, I've been totally swamped and unable to blog. The amount of work you have to complete before going on vacation requires vacation when you're finished. But it will be worth it. And I need some time in thinner air to spend writing.

I may blog while I'm gone. I may not. Since it's my vacation, I get to decide and no one can complain.

Thank you to all of you, little and small, big and tall, who tune in each week to hear my poignant, succinct, and insightful commentary. And for those who sit through my garbled ramblings, too.

I do have a few things I'm wanting to post today. But, oddly enough, my priorities today are grocery shopping and laundry. As I get time, IF I get time, I will be posting today. Then I'll be gone to soon return.

Have a great week, everyone. Stay informed. And should the nation crumble into pieces while I'm gone, I'm heading for an unknown location in the Colorado Mountains, never to be heard from again.

Nah. I'll be back.

Tara Lynn