at my lunch table

i just started a twitter account a couple weeks ago, and so far, it's serving the purpose for which i meant it: keeping up with world news headlines. at first, it was overwhelming, the amount of things that go on; the constant update and/or correction of facts and figures. and how exactly does one go about getting- what is it?- retweeted?

aha, i see.

still, the news corporations, businesses, entrepreneurs, actors, authors, musicians; etc. that i have decided to follow on twitter have all delighted me in this one way: they all seem to follow each other.

and you're like, "Duh, Justine. Celebrities follow celebrities. Normal people wish celebrities followed them."

be that as it may, it's not just celebrities following celebrities- they are, after all, still normal people just following other normal people (for the record, they only seem so fabulously abnormal because we know them, but we don't know them- at least the strangers we encounter on a daily basis are actually strangers. anyway...); and because they're still just people they follow the people they admire, or are their friends. so when i find that MIKA follows Neil Gaiman and Jamie Cullum, and that Alton Brown follows Jamie Hyneman my first thought is: "Oh, my gosh! We could all sit at the same lunch table, and all get along!"




you ever have that writing prompt presented to you? "If you could have lunch/dinner/tea with any five people, dead or alive (perhaps not yet born) who would they be and why?" well, according to the amount i follow on twitter, i'd have a hard time picking just five, and they're all alive so i don't even have to wait for them to be born or resurrect any of them from the dead.

EXCELLENT!

now i just have to make sure i find the perfect day for all their schedules to coincide... oh, and i can't forget: i also need to find the perfect stationery for the invitations, and the appropriate location-!

IS THAT DOMINIC COOPER TOM HIDDLESTON IS FOLLOWING? oh, wait, duh- they're both involved with 'The Avengers'. right. okay. i forgot. that's about as normal as me following my friends.

okay.

man, i hope one day i get to meet some of these people, even for just a handshake.









edit: 12 November 2013--i just realized all the people i mentioned i followed are all older white males. hmm, well, whatever- we're all human, right? but i suppose that also says i really need some female role models, huh?

DUI

Last summer I received my first ticket (only $15) because I parked against the flow of traffic. I parked against the flow of traffic because I was just so exhausted, and simultaneously understood the street to be invariably traffic-less, that I didn't bother turning my car around; I just wanted sleep! I was so tired.

Not that I was expecting a ticket the next morning, but when I first saw the ticket sticking out of my window I thought I totally deserve that, and continued eating breakfast. What else was I supposed to do? React? I only react when I think something's funny. Okay, I take that back--I do react, but usually when it's something funny. (Seriously, I have, like, the most obnoxious laugh.)

Since then I've never received another ticket. I mean, it's been less than I year, I might be speaking too soon. You know, if I may be frank, I'm surprised that my first ticket was because of a parking violation. I'm surprised it wasn't for speeding (I'm a reformed speeder), or for texting (I know! I'm a horrible person!) or eating! 

And no, I've never gotten a DUI.

I can't ever get a DUI.

Not because I couldn't possibly be susceptible to drugs or intoxicants (I'm as weak as anyone else). but because I just don't like medications in general, legal or illegal. When I was in middle school I used to pretend to swallow my allergy medication, then I would sneakily spit it out. I was too afraid to choke on it. I didn't like the idea of swallowing something I'd never chewed! What if I choked and died! In fact, I did choke on one once and it left such a horribly dramatic scar that I was so worried I'd have to take my pills chopped and dipped in peanut butter for the rest of my life! 

(Nurses do this for their elderly patients, I know this because my parents are nurses and so made me take my pills like that a few times. Trust me on this: no matter how much peanut butter is mixed with the pill you'll taste more pill than peanut.)

I also don't think I ever get sick. Especially when I am sick, I am in an impenetrable wall of denial: I AM NOT SICK.

I can take pills now, so no need to worry.

And I only partially believe I can get sick.

But anyway, I've never gotten, and cannot get a DUI. (knock on wood)

I can't ever get a DUI because the kind of DUIs of which I am guilty are not the same kind of DUIs for which people get arrested. 

My DUIs are of a more spiritual nature. (Argue all you want that snorting drugs is spiritual, hence hallucinatory, but that's besides my point.) 

I am supposed to be under God's influence, yes? Yes. As a Christian my main influence is God. In everything I do, I must consult God, allow Him to speak through me; work through me. Lately, I've allowed myself to be influenced by my own plans (which aren't that great anyway), and have allowed the world to impose it's limitations upon me. 

I seem to be obsessed with hidden potential, and obsessed with how I am much more than I appear because I will be more if I'm less now. Not because I'm all that and a bag of chips, but because King David was one a shepherd. Moses was a murder and coward. Jacob was a trickster. Lucifer was an angel. 

(So was Islington, thank you Gaiman; speaking of which, Richard Mayhew became something great in London Below, so much so that he left London Above. You and I both know how difficult it is to leave behind the familiar and comfortable for what is dangerous, exciting but fulfilling.)

All these characters, real and unreal (only Islington is unreal), show that I have the potential to become better or worse than what I am now. 

I want to be better than what I am now. 

I want no queenship. I just-. I just want to stop talking about potential and start fulfilling my potential. 

And the only way I can do that is if I'm guilty of a (forgive me) godly DUI. (I am murdering all good and decent colloquialisms today!) It doesn't matter if I read my Bible daily if I don't practice what I'm learning. I know, I know. I've heard this before. You've heard this before. But the amount of hearing such truths makes them no less truthful. Redundant, but never less truthful.

So this morning I've learned (again) that I really need to step up my prayer life. Again, and again, I need to be reminded that if I want to be as great as I hope to be I need to believe on something greater, outside of myself. Even Richard Mayhew didn't know where he got such courage to kill the Great Beast of London, and he's hardly under godly influence. How much more should I, could I, be if I've got God on my side?

But truly God has listened;
he has attended to the voice of my prayer.
Blessed be God,
because he has not rejected my prayer
or removed his steadfast love from me. 

pebbles and stones: life or death.

because a few thrown pebbles
might annoy you more than one thrown giant stone.

a pebble can poke your eye,
cause it to bleed,
and you can't get to a sink quickly enough
to wash out the pebble
so,
potentially, you're blind in one eye for the rest of your life,
and everyone you know will call you Pirate Frankie behind your back.
to your face they'll call you by your name.
but behind your back it's Pirate Frankie.

even your tombstone will read Pirate Frankie,
what with your request to be buried with your silkworm silk eye patch
which you made yourself.

you're so proud of that eye patch.

a giant stone
will just completely obliterate you:
break all your bones and
your consciousness.

there's no potential eye-poking,
which means your eye won't bleed
which means you never needed the chance to wash out your eye
to wash out the pebble,
so now
there's no potential to be called Pirate Frankie behind your back.
you won't have ever made your own eye patch!
or its matching accessories!
and your tombstone will just have your name.
your real name.
but your DOB and DOD will be much closer together.

because when someone throws a giant stone at you?

you, my friend, are dead.