Merry Christmas to you all!
Please leave me a note so I can know who's been by. I haven't a clue if anyone is actually reading this blog.
Be sure to check out the link for a special Christmas Poem written by my daughter, Katie, with original accompaniment.
May you and your family experience the Spirit of the Christmas Season which is God's Love for you.
-dan'l
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Poking Out from Behind the Curtain
"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! The Great and Powerful Oz has spoken!" -- The wizard
I've come to a place. It's a place I'm not entirely comfortable with, but then I never am comfortable. So I suppose that's irrelevant.
I've come to the place where the Wraith Surfer is no longer needed. You see, I watched the World Wide Web grow from its infancy, and saw the stories on TV about how people were hunted down and stalked based on information they gave away on the Internet. And I was intimidated. I still am. So when I ventured out into the Web myself for social reasons, I did so under a guise. I didn't want spammers taking my e-mail address, so I used an anonymous webmail account for anything I thought might cause spam to be generated. And it was! I get a TON of spam at that account. That much was a great idea!
But then I began to find my friends online. And I tried to come out to play, but they didn't recognize me behind the space suit of the Wraith Surfer. Today (sniff) I was taken to task by a friend for "hiding". I was hiding, but only from the strangers! Well, the disguise was too good, and even my friends were leery.
So today, the suit comes off. The steps I already took on YouTube to lose the Wraith persona not come to my other accounts. I'm going to be "dan'l" again. Ok, so it's still a persona, but it's the one I wear at home. Deal with it.
Time to put Major Matt Mason away, and find a decent portrait of my own self to put up. It isn't there yet, but keep an eye out for it. I'll find something.
Props to Bonnie for poking me. :-)
Now, where did I leave the keys to that balloon?
-dan'l
I've come to a place. It's a place I'm not entirely comfortable with, but then I never am comfortable. So I suppose that's irrelevant.
I've come to the place where the Wraith Surfer is no longer needed. You see, I watched the World Wide Web grow from its infancy, and saw the stories on TV about how people were hunted down and stalked based on information they gave away on the Internet. And I was intimidated. I still am. So when I ventured out into the Web myself for social reasons, I did so under a guise. I didn't want spammers taking my e-mail address, so I used an anonymous webmail account for anything I thought might cause spam to be generated. And it was! I get a TON of spam at that account. That much was a great idea!
But then I began to find my friends online. And I tried to come out to play, but they didn't recognize me behind the space suit of the Wraith Surfer. Today (sniff) I was taken to task by a friend for "hiding". I was hiding, but only from the strangers! Well, the disguise was too good, and even my friends were leery.
So today, the suit comes off. The steps I already took on YouTube to lose the Wraith persona not come to my other accounts. I'm going to be "dan'l" again. Ok, so it's still a persona, but it's the one I wear at home. Deal with it.
Time to put Major Matt Mason away, and find a decent portrait of my own self to put up. It isn't there yet, but keep an eye out for it. I'll find something.
Props to Bonnie for poking me. :-)
Now, where did I leave the keys to that balloon?
-dan'l
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Exhaustion Bites
Who said the weekend was a relaxing time? I often look forward to the rest that comes with a normal work week, after the stress of a weekend. Maybe God rested on the seventh day, but do we? I think NOT!
To be fair, this weekend was NOT your usual fare.
We did an event for the Band Boosters (in support of my daughter, who is in the band) this weekend. On Friday night, we set up tables, unloaded factory equipment, and folded boxes in preparation for Saturday's Pie Factory. The Pies were already pre-sold, and we knew we needed to make 1551 Apple Pies. That meant folding 1551 cardboard boxes to put them in, and counting 1551 pie tins. It meant mixing up gallons of flour, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg (Boy, did it smell good!) All this had to be completed Friday night.
On Saturday, we arrived at 7am at the school, got the coffee pot going, and waited for the Apples to arrive. At 7:30 we unloaded 136 bushel of apples, stacking them near the apple peeler/corer. We suited up into aprons and hairnets, and the day's work began. There were about 45 on the line. The first two placed apples on the peeler/corer, which automatically peeled and cored the apples, dumping them into a bin. The bins were passed on to a team that trimmed the remaining peel and core parts off. Then off to the slicer, producing nice, even apple slices, and sending them up a conveyor belt. At the top, someone trimmed away any more unsightly parts, and the apples were ready for the pie.
Over at the dough station, ladies mixed dough for crust. Another team weighed the dough, stuffing it into a die plate. Pressing down on the handle the dough was cut into many parts, evenly sized. Some went to the "top crust" station to be floured and shaped, while the rest were placed into the bottom of a metal pie tin. Two heated presses were used to squish the dough ball into a flat bottom crust. Perfect every time.
The bottom crust moved on to the filling station, where a spoonful of flour/sugar/cinnomon/nutmeg mixture from the previous night was added. On top of that, a pile of apple slices, and another scoop of flour/sugar/cinnamon/nutmeg.
Meanwhile, back at the top crust station, dough balls were fed into a press, making elongated oval patties. These were run through another press/roller sideways to form a perfectly round top crust of the perfect thickness, which was quickly draped over the waiting pile of apples in the pie tin. From here, another person tucked the apples neatly under the top crust, making a healthy pile in the center. The pie then went on to the crimping station, where workers took out their aggressions slamming the crimper die down onto the pie. This sealed the top crust to the bottom and trimmed away the excess dough. A quick spin to clean the crumbs off, and the finished pie was slipped into a bag, sealed with tape and boxed for delivery.
I had the honor of walking the finished pies to the Order Pickup station, where sellers collected all the pies they'd sold, to deliver them to customers.
Whew! We were done making pies by 12:45 pm, but then we had to clean up, return tables we'd borrowed, and dispose of the apple peels and cores on a nearby farm.
We'd have been done by 2pm, but my sister-in-law locked her keys in the car, and I had to drive her all the way home to get a spare set. We got back to the house at about 7pm, just in time for my son's birthday party.
Cake, ice cream, and a slice of apple pie, and I was sugared up pretty well. I was too tired to post my video on YouTube, though. Maybe Sunday?
On Sunday, I went to church early. My quintet was singing, which is always stressful, but it went ok. When the family didn't show up, I ran home to find that my daughter was worried about her present for my son. It was the same thing that he got from Grandma and Grandpa the night before. Oops! Off to the store for a quick switch, then back to church for second service. Now I was crashing from the morning's stress, and I think I slept through the sermon! After church, we rushed off to Chuck-E-Cheese for a couple hours of Birthday fun with 5 boys. Play games, eat pizza, dance with the mouse. Then home to video games and LEGOS.
I skipped choir practice to manage the boys, and we returned them to Moms and Dads at evening service at the church. After evening service, I had a meeting, and arrived home at 9 for Supper.
Too tired to post my video of the pie job, I went to bed.
Which led to Monday morning. I got up and got the kids on the bus, but then I was not feeling well. I laid down to rest for a minute and woke up at noon. Total CRASH!
Yeah, so the weekend was the most exhausting time I remember in a while, and I look forward to getting back to the usual day-to-day work schedule.
This all hit home for me, though, when I think back on it, because a friend and neighbor had a heart attack last night. He's doing well today, but it makes me think. How much can I keep going on 4-6 hours of sleep a night, and pushing all the time?
The videos will get done, and I'll do my best, but not at the expense of taking care of myself first. We need our rest to be at the top of our game.
Be well. Thanks for stopping by.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Just a quick note...
I've changed usernames at YouTube. The Wraith Surfer is hanging up his board over there. Meet me at http://youtube.com/DanPostropheL (dan'l)
Friday, October 12, 2007
Looking in the Mirror: Am I cracked?
What is it with Periurban on YouTube? Here's a guy with a great voice, creative songwriting, and interesting views on -- even a passion for community. His gentle manner and compassionate tone draw you in, and you feel like this guy could be your friend if he wasn't five hours ahead of you on the clock, almost a quarter of a world away. Just when I decide here's a musician I care to keep an eye (or an ear) on, he turns suddenly against the USA, and suddenly, the songs are no longer comfortable to listen to. In fact, they're painful.
Then again, so is looking in a physical mirror. :-)
My patriotism is stung by the sand he's kicked up from the playground, and the child in me wants to come out swinging. How dare he?
Yet the disillusioned, tired citizen in me wants to scream out in the moment, "Yes! Yes! It's cruel what our country is doing in the world!" The part of me that believes the conspiracy theories and doesn't trust the likes of a Washington Politician is pierced to the heart by Peri's words, because I feel trapped. Trapped in a country that has taken down the government of a foreign country under what I believe to be false pretenses, unable to do anything to stop those who would continue to feed our sons and daughters to an enemy that considers their lives to be worth less than that of the family pet.
"It's a democratic country, though -- you can vote! Choose better leaders! Look at the funny Americans in the US that choose such horrible leaders! Hahaha...." Would that my vote were that powerful. I dread the upcoming election. There's a very real possibility that we'll see another Clinton White House, but roles will be reversed. The field of candidates is just that -- a vast field, and the possibilities are many. And is any one of them without corruption? Does any one of them speak for me? How to decide? Choose the Devil you know? The lesser of two evils? I vote so I have the right to complain, and the rest vote to give me something to complain about. Such is the nature of election. I only wish I had a choice of an honest candidate.
Fail to vote and not only do I forfeit my right to complain (In My Humble Opinion). I'd be no longer a part of the solution -- but I'd be part of the apathetic problem. Lumps-on-a-log who don't care, caught up in our own personal lives... Self absorbed.
I'm sorry -- I'm typing while tired again, and I'm having trouble keeping a thought....
The point is: Periurban gets my ire up because the things he says about the US are true -- to an extent. I'm frustrated because I can't make him a liar. When I hear his lyrics, I see myself, part of my country, responsible for the leaders I sent to Washington, responsible for thinking that the war on Iraq could be justified, and I don't care for what I see. Whether we were lied to, or the threat was an honest mistake, we attacked, and now we're losing boys and girls trying to hold it together over there. If we stay, we're evil for continuing the battle, and if we pull out, the power vacuum will be filled with civil war, and we'll be responsible for that. We're left with no out.
And I don't care for being trapped like that. What must it be like to be a soldier facing these feelings each day... My heart cries each time I lower the flag for one of our own killed in action. The flag has seen a lot of half-staff days this year. May it end.
Meanwhile, Periurban, write your songs, but don't think for a minute that every US American is behind this war. Don't think we aren't pained. Indeed, maybe your music will help us feel that pain "enough".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMmixsh9sYQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VpYUhlKO-o
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_P_E91KabMY
Then again, so is looking in a physical mirror. :-)
My patriotism is stung by the sand he's kicked up from the playground, and the child in me wants to come out swinging. How dare he?
Yet the disillusioned, tired citizen in me wants to scream out in the moment, "Yes! Yes! It's cruel what our country is doing in the world!" The part of me that believes the conspiracy theories and doesn't trust the likes of a Washington Politician is pierced to the heart by Peri's words, because I feel trapped. Trapped in a country that has taken down the government of a foreign country under what I believe to be false pretenses, unable to do anything to stop those who would continue to feed our sons and daughters to an enemy that considers their lives to be worth less than that of the family pet.
"It's a democratic country, though -- you can vote! Choose better leaders! Look at the funny Americans in the US that choose such horrible leaders! Hahaha...." Would that my vote were that powerful. I dread the upcoming election. There's a very real possibility that we'll see another Clinton White House, but roles will be reversed. The field of candidates is just that -- a vast field, and the possibilities are many. And is any one of them without corruption? Does any one of them speak for me? How to decide? Choose the Devil you know? The lesser of two evils? I vote so I have the right to complain, and the rest vote to give me something to complain about. Such is the nature of election. I only wish I had a choice of an honest candidate.
Fail to vote and not only do I forfeit my right to complain (In My Humble Opinion). I'd be no longer a part of the solution -- but I'd be part of the apathetic problem. Lumps-on-a-log who don't care, caught up in our own personal lives... Self absorbed.
I'm sorry -- I'm typing while tired again, and I'm having trouble keeping a thought....
The point is: Periurban gets my ire up because the things he says about the US are true -- to an extent. I'm frustrated because I can't make him a liar. When I hear his lyrics, I see myself, part of my country, responsible for the leaders I sent to Washington, responsible for thinking that the war on Iraq could be justified, and I don't care for what I see. Whether we were lied to, or the threat was an honest mistake, we attacked, and now we're losing boys and girls trying to hold it together over there. If we stay, we're evil for continuing the battle, and if we pull out, the power vacuum will be filled with civil war, and we'll be responsible for that. We're left with no out.
And I don't care for being trapped like that. What must it be like to be a soldier facing these feelings each day... My heart cries each time I lower the flag for one of our own killed in action. The flag has seen a lot of half-staff days this year. May it end.
Meanwhile, Periurban, write your songs, but don't think for a minute that every US American is behind this war. Don't think we aren't pained. Indeed, maybe your music will help us feel that pain "enough".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMmixsh9sYQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VpYUhlKO-o
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_P_E91KabMY
Friday, October 05, 2007
Sanity in Question
How does one decide whether one is sane or not?
I mean, I believe myself to be sane. But don't most insane people?
(brief interlude while switching monitors -- mine just died...)
Sorry about that delay. Technical difficulty. Back to our examination of belly buttons...
Is it true that believing you are insane is a sign that you are probably not?
Or, as I suspect, am I perfectly sane and simply believe that I may not be?
Who can tell? I mean, I don't feel qualified to judge the sanity of another. And neither do I trust another person without access to my thoughts worthy of judging me?
Which leads me to my next thought. Have you ever wanted to be another person? Feel their feelings, and think their thoughts? If we could, this whole question of sanity would be more easily satisfied -- or would it? If a sane person was able to be me, and I am insane, wouldn't they become my insanity? Or would I become their sanity.
Dobson says when you work in the garden, the dirt never gets glovey.
Don't be so sure, though that the sane would become insane. Who is to say that what we call sane today is the appropriate state of mind? The "right" state of mind?
That ice cream was good. Maybe I'll have another before bed.
I look at people around me -- in the ether -- and I can't be certain who is insane and who is sane. Who is fake and who is real. Who is really fake? I wear a persona myself when I'm here, and that persona is not me -- though the thoughts are mine. Disjoint as they are, and unclear. Fuzzy and drunken from lack of sleep... But if I go to bed earlier, what life will I miss? And when I stay up, what life can I live? Dozing throughout the day...
Ah yes -- people around me. I browse Blogger, and YouTube, and mySpace, and take in the oddities and pearls I find there. People reveling in the beauty of the online community compared to the ugliness of the real world -- and it strikes a chord. Yet it's a harmony missing a note. Why do people post? Why do they make the videos? What is the point? What happens to citizens of this e-nation when they no longer have access to their account? Are we all doomed to the fate of Greg Solomon -- apparently not dead after all? How do we know when someone really never will come back? What becomes of their e-life then? Are they sane who post on these sites?
Some post because they are creative, and have a talent to share. Some want to capitalize on that and others want to give it away. Some post because they believe they possess a nugget of truth. Others because they believe the other guy doesn't have a shred of truth. Others I can't figure out -- producing little better than a written/musical/video fart -- so crude. Some are poets. Others are philosophers. Some share the gift of multiple creativities. Ah Utopia, but where is the place in this community for the follower? For the taker? For the one who possesses no gift to share? Where is the place for the the one unable to contribute? What gift of wisdom can I offer this place?
Questions. I can ask questions. I have those. But many will misinterpret my questioning as criticism. It's not intended as such. It's pure curiosity.
Would that I had music to give you. Would that I could write poetry. Would that I could share with you the Truth -- the ultimate prize I seek... A story. A joke. A kind word.
"Thank you." If you read this far.
No, it's too late for that ice cream. Time to go to bed. Tomorrow is never a day away -- it's already here. Maybe today will shed some light on me sanity.
G'night.
Oh, one pearl of wisdom I give you:
I mean, I believe myself to be sane. But don't most insane people?
(brief interlude while switching monitors -- mine just died...)
Sorry about that delay. Technical difficulty. Back to our examination of belly buttons...
Is it true that believing you are insane is a sign that you are probably not?
Or, as I suspect, am I perfectly sane and simply believe that I may not be?
Who can tell? I mean, I don't feel qualified to judge the sanity of another. And neither do I trust another person without access to my thoughts worthy of judging me?
Which leads me to my next thought. Have you ever wanted to be another person? Feel their feelings, and think their thoughts? If we could, this whole question of sanity would be more easily satisfied -- or would it? If a sane person was able to be me, and I am insane, wouldn't they become my insanity? Or would I become their sanity.
Dobson says when you work in the garden, the dirt never gets glovey.
Don't be so sure, though that the sane would become insane. Who is to say that what we call sane today is the appropriate state of mind? The "right" state of mind?
That ice cream was good. Maybe I'll have another before bed.
I look at people around me -- in the ether -- and I can't be certain who is insane and who is sane. Who is fake and who is real. Who is really fake? I wear a persona myself when I'm here, and that persona is not me -- though the thoughts are mine. Disjoint as they are, and unclear. Fuzzy and drunken from lack of sleep... But if I go to bed earlier, what life will I miss? And when I stay up, what life can I live? Dozing throughout the day...
Ah yes -- people around me. I browse Blogger, and YouTube, and mySpace, and take in the oddities and pearls I find there. People reveling in the beauty of the online community compared to the ugliness of the real world -- and it strikes a chord. Yet it's a harmony missing a note. Why do people post? Why do they make the videos? What is the point? What happens to citizens of this e-nation when they no longer have access to their account? Are we all doomed to the fate of Greg Solomon -- apparently not dead after all? How do we know when someone really never will come back? What becomes of their e-life then? Are they sane who post on these sites?
Some post because they are creative, and have a talent to share. Some want to capitalize on that and others want to give it away. Some post because they believe they possess a nugget of truth. Others because they believe the other guy doesn't have a shred of truth. Others I can't figure out -- producing little better than a written/musical/video fart -- so crude. Some are poets. Others are philosophers. Some share the gift of multiple creativities. Ah Utopia, but where is the place in this community for the follower? For the taker? For the one who possesses no gift to share? Where is the place for the the one unable to contribute? What gift of wisdom can I offer this place?
Questions. I can ask questions. I have those. But many will misinterpret my questioning as criticism. It's not intended as such. It's pure curiosity.
Would that I had music to give you. Would that I could write poetry. Would that I could share with you the Truth -- the ultimate prize I seek... A story. A joke. A kind word.
"Thank you." If you read this far.
No, it's too late for that ice cream. Time to go to bed. Tomorrow is never a day away -- it's already here. Maybe today will shed some light on me sanity.
G'night.
Oh, one pearl of wisdom I give you:
The only stupid question is the one left unasked.
Where'd I leave my jammies?
Where'd I leave my jammies?
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