Two Words

I guess because I'm an English major I tend to notice certain oddities dealing with language. (Although, I must admit, I detest saying that because then everyone assumes I'm perfectly competent in every aspect of the language, and as a result should never err in any form of writing or speech. But, in fact, I'm far from such a status, and perhaps the reason I'm pursing English is to amend those inconsistencies. I think this tangent stopped making sense, and it's very possible I'm imagining this to be true, when, in reality, no one has even noticed.)

But back to what I originally meant to say: I've noticed something. Two particular words, that is. These two happen to be: "Whet" and "Pique." The reason I bring these to your attention is because they're almost always associated with the phrases "Whet my appetite" and "My interest is piqued" or any variant thereof. However, what I don't understand is why these words have unique spellings as opposed to "wet" and "peak"? You see, when I ruminate the notion of becoming hungry and smelling some delicious morsel I'm about to ravish, what happens? I salivate! AKA, my saliva glands start.. getting wet! Not "whet," but wet. Follow? So let's apply the same logical approach to my interest and/or curiosity. If my interest in a subject matter is "low" that indicates boredom. If my interest in a subject matter is "high" that indicates.. interest. Therefore, if my interest has climbed to a high reaching level--it's highest, in fact--why then, can't my interest be "peaked"? So my conclusion resides in this inquiry: Why!?

I hopelessly demand answers!

Henry David

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."

Why is it that among all our peers who are supposed to, and intended to be there for us--we're still decaying internally? Where is the upfront, honesty and accountability that's supposed to exist in community, and more importantly in our fellowship with other Christians? Where did it go, and what have we become as a result?

Same Old Politics.. or is it?

Okay, so right now on the news, they're watching/debating the new senate bill that's being voted on today. The most prevalent aspect they're covering is the choice of Sen. Olympia Snowe. She's a republican from Maine and according to the pundits, 'her vote is going to make or break this bill.' She's under scrutiny because she is still undecided. Hold Up. She?? She's still undecided? How is that possible. She is a representative of the state of Maine, representing the will of the people she represents. Have I made my point clear? It's not up to her! It's up to the people and she should be voting to whatever the majority of the state desires! The state and people that she serves. Someone explain to me how we got this way? Has it always been like this??

When a government is no longer about the people, it's no wonder why our country is spiraling down the drain.

Excerpts and Indolence

All week I've been palm-to-foreheading myslef for my negligence to update this blog on any regimented schedule (aka at all). There were a couple ponderings I intended on pontificating about, but naturally the second I sit down to write them, my mind becomes a gray, mushy blob. Er.. wait? Never mind. Suffice to say, I forgot them. In substitute, I've provided the beginning of one of my stories which, like a million others, fizzled out quite undramatically. The rub is that I approved of this opening, but practically nothing to follow. If anyone wants to write the rest, I'm game.

Rain fell on the field. Heavy blankets gusted westward along the sun bleached grass, overgrown and bending in the wind. Drops rattled percussion on the roof and splintered across the windshield. Newly formed streams carved pathways between the clumps of summer dust and residue.
The peaceful rhythm of rain was interrupted by a crack of thunder nearby. The car rattled briefly, awakening its passenger, reclined and asleep in the driver’s seat. The rain continued swirling as she breathed in long, steady breaths, coming to life with the world of the waking. From underneath dark hair, her eyes watched as the drops continued battling against the pane. The collected pollen and splattered insects had been cleansed away. A blurry, hardly translucent image of the empty expanse lay ahead. Beyond the field were an undisturbed line of poplar trees. Barely visible, she could make out their thick, contrasting green from behind the veil of the rain, bubbling and popping as larger drops began colliding amongst the smaller vibrations, like the shake of maracas welcoming in a celebration.
But this was not a celebration. This mere chance of a summer thunderstorm did not seem chance at all. Instead, it was as if the rain knew, and had arrived for that purpose. This was goodbye.

Gone with the Wind

It is absolutely the most beautiful day out right this moment. This is seriously the weather paradise should have. Sunny, 68 degrees, and blustery. I was standing in the kitchen a few minutes ago and all the windows were open, the sun was shining in and a huge balmy breeze blew right through. I opened up my arms and just stood there. I wanted to start twirling and singing "The hiilllls are alive with the sound of muuuuusic!" But refrained. It was tough.

Gosh this is amazing.