airport imaginings

This is kind of a long-standing tradition with my sister; we're each writing a sentence (or impassioned paragraph) to create a stunningly brilliant short story! kai shi ba!

bonus points for pp who can tell which narrator is which sister.

Once there was graceful young porpoise who loved to swim among the swaying seaweed off the coast of Tasmania.

This porpoise was very delusional, for she believed she was a mermaid and swam around humming tunes about princes and lobsters and fish named Flounder.

In her quest for a prince, she stumbled upon a family reunion of merpeople who were welcoming back a constantly singing redhead who promptly slapped her for trying to steal her story.

The spiteful princess Ariel continued to harass the poor porpoise until she was well outside of the barriers of the kingdom. Overwhelmed as her blissful ignorance was shattered, the poor dear aimlessly swam deeper and deeper into the unknown depths of the uncharted seas........

Suddenly her snout scraped against coral, and, smarting, our heroine Blenfulsy realized that she was entangled in the Great Barrier Reef. As she collected herself, a band of clownfish solemnly assembled.

Taking one look at her, they uniformly shook their heads and, in unison, grimly informed her that she needed to get her act together. After helping her dislodge herself from the coral, they gave her pointers on embracing the beauty of the porpoise, the true essence of her species. The first thing to changed had to be her name. Instead of the common mermaid name of Blenfulsy, she would now be called Seastar... a coveted name among porpoises.

Blenfulsy blinked. Could she really take on another name? She started to hyperventilate, her whiskers annoyingly getting sucked up into her nostrils. Yes, she could. And she would! "Thank you, my little friends. I will gladly take up your name for me." The newly christened Seastar thanked the kind but grim little clowns, and twirled upward.

Though Seastar now understood that her standards for a man must change, she still wished to find the prince of her dreams. However, why stop at porpoises? Why not a killer whale, or a shark, or even a whale? She had heard there are plenty of fish in the sea and she set out to test the theory.

Seastar now traveled west, set on Italy and dark-eyed Italian killer whales with smoking eyes and accents. She practiced "Ciao!" and "T'Amo" with newly found chuzpah. But just as she was passing South Africa, she heard the most dreadful noise--

She looked over to see a fellow porpoise belting his heart out to the languid tones of Celine Dion. She scrunched up her nose in disgust and began swimming off as fast as she could.

"neear, faar, whereEEEEEEEEVVEEER you are, I beliiieeeeve that our hearts wiiill (BREATH) go ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooonnnnn....."

Seastar swam faster, wincing.

Suddenly the porpoise stopped and said, "Wait, I hear you, who are you?" Surprised by the odd wording, Seastar turned around to discover that the porpoise was actually blind! Having not quite let go of her previous fantasy she said in her sweetest mermaid voice, "My name is Blenfulsy!" To her joy he replied "Oohh I've never met a mermaid before! It really is a pleasure!"

"The pleasure's all mine!" she chirruped. "I'm just on my way to a European cruise. I hear that Grecian beaches are just deLIGHTful." The porpoise sang out jubilantly, "Hallelujah!! I was just heading that way myself! Please allow me to accompany you, beautiful mermaid. My name, by the way, is Gus."

So they set out together! Everyday Seastar would tell Gus magnificent stories about the glamor of being a mermaid and the burdens of the beauty and fame that accompanied her race. He would drink in every word with an a awe and reverence that never failed to boost her confidence level even if it all was a lie. Until, one day, Gus confessed

"I'm not really a singer." Seastar gasped. Gus whimpered. "I never was! I always wanted to be, but everyone told me I was awful. that's why I was wandering around alone in the ocean. I was trying to practice." Seastar comforted him, "Well, I've gotten so tonedeaf since listening to you, I think that everything else sounds worse! You can always sing for me, Gus."

Gus, tears still bubbling, slowly turned toward her--

"I'm also not blind Blenfulsy, or whatever your real name is. I was only wearing these glasses to gain inspiration for my rocker image. But now, after spending so much time with you, I am convinced that you are far more beautiful and glamorous than any mermaid that ever lived."

Seastar sighed in delight. "Reeeally?" "Would you like me to sing it to you?" Gus offered. "No, no, I believe you dearest," Seastar hastily replied. "Let's just elope to New Zealand. My name is Seastar, by the way."

"Charmed," said Gus gallantly.

the END

a very not-deep post. about time.

It's a blogging day. ;0)

This post is going to be entirely girly and not well-thought out, very not-deep and rather silly. Are you ready for this?

SHOOOOOOOPPING!

I've never been that much of a shopper. 98% of my clothes up until the age of... 17? 19? have been given to me or occasionally from a thrift store. Which actually has always been fun. We'd get huge garbage bags of clothes from various sources which my sister and I would voraciously rip into with all the joy and wild desire of Christmas.

At one point I needed a black skirt, really wanted one, and knew exACTly what kind I wanted. So I asked God for it and sure enough, in a garbage bag a few months later, there was the very skirt. Two similar ones, in fact.

Whatever desire I possessed for shopping was further destroyed when I, for the first and last time, shopped on Black Friday. For 10 hours. In a city were there are beautiful beaches. Oh the insanity!!

It was fun to hang out with friends, but I gained no love for lines or florescent lights. They give me migraines.

BUT very occasionally, if you can kind of afford it (or if you've already blown your budget and figure, 'what's another $20 or $30 bucks? no good, people. no good), shopping is fun. I went to Plato's Closet and got a pretty dress and necklace and earrings and chatted with other shoppers.

It's fun... clothing stores are kind of like modern day harems where women congregate and do girly things and chat about all things girly. Without the whole concubine thing.

Advice about color and style is readily given and received, and women lament the size of their feet or thighs in sympathetic (and also lying) company.

All this has made me realize that your frame of mind is critical when shopping. If you're having a crappy day, don't you cross the threshold of a store and think that trying on skinny jeans is gonna make it better. ARE you insane??

You need to go in like a queen, on the search for that lucky piece of clothing that will reveal just how gorgeous that body of yours really is. um... but not too much.

That's my shopping philosophy, anyway.

Women are so interesting when they're in herds. :)

Like at Wisdom, it is a rare bird that can buy a slice of apple pie without saying she shouldn't, asking if she should, and saying that at least half if is for her husband. I've become quite an expert on womankind from 30 to 90 from working there... it's pretty fascinating, endearing, and just sometimes a little bit scary.

Now I'm not one to be down on women. Not at all! They're a wonderful breed, and have many lovely qualities.

But I can empathize with the men who are scared off by a group of them. The noise that emanates remarkably resembles hyenas.

I just hope that as I grow older:

~My wrinkles will be laugh, not crying or frown, lines.

~I will be filled with grace, patience, and compliments for the people serving me. I get so many little compliments from middle-aged women. It's kind of sweet. I think they think I'm 18.

I vacillate from looking 18 at Wisdom to (hopefully) looking 25 or 26 when I teach. The transformation? Lipstick, a skirt, and sometimes heels. And eyeshadow.

~If I'm going to get a dessert, I'm not going to apologize for it.

~I'll wear pretty things and cool jewelry.

~I will exercise. And eat good food that includes, but is NOT limited to, salads.

~I will have amazing things to talk about and only stay the most beautiful things about my family and kids and husband.

~I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER get botox.

Tigers

I've always liked tigers. Partly because I am one (born in the year of the tiger, according to Chinese traditions. There's a 12 year cycle: my sister's a monkey, brother's a dragon (very auspicious), Mom's a dog and Dad's a snake. We're a very interesting family!

My mom even had a dream about a tiger right before I was born, and I've always felt connected to the beautiful tiger.

However, little girl tigers did not always get the respect we deserve. There's a strong cultural bias (less so now) against girl tigers where I grew up, because supposedly they are headstrong, independent and hard to marry off. We even have a picture of baby me next to an orphanage in Singapore specifically for girls abandoned in the year of the tiger.

However, the Chinese zodiac animals held more cultural sway in Taiwan. For instance, my mother had literally the last bed in the hospital when she delivered my brother the dragon--everyone wanted to have a baby boy in that year.

See the blurb below:

The Gate of Hope

(taken from hyacinthus's blog: http://www.skyscrapercity.com/showthread.php?t=227971)

At this small gate of the former Convent of Holy Infant Jesus (CHIJ), many babies were abandoned in baskets to be picked by the Sisters of the Convent. This was the origin of the Home for Abandoned Babies.

For over 100 years, the orphanage was home to children from poor or broken families as well as unwanted babies. The orphanage took in many Chinese baby girls born in the year of tiger - "tiger girls" - because of the strong superstitious belief then, that they would bring bad luck to their families.

In 1988, the Mother Superior noted that this practice was stopped as there was a marked change in this superstitious belief.

---

Last edited by hyacinthus; August 26th, 2005 at 05:34 PM.

Sad, no? Now the building that this door is connected to (Chijmes) is a national heritage site, a gorgeous chapel that hosts everything from musicals to revival services. It was a little out of the way of where we lived in Singapore (as if anything was ever THAT far away!), but I went there a handful of times.

I've had, and am having, to sift through what to take and leave from all the different cultures in which I've lived. I don't want to hold on to negative beliefs, but also want to recognize how they've affected me. Also, I strongly believe that God redeems cultures.

SO I like that the tiger has incredible strength, but has no desire to show off. She's very protective of those she loves, and nurtures her cubs. She's also a deadly dangerous hunter. Knows how to relax. Lazily graceful, powerfully beautiful.

Good traits. I'm ok being a tiger. Still not my favorite animal, but a very good one. :) Nice job, God. And aren't tiger cubs absolutely adorable? I can't wait to cuddle one in heaven. Yes, I do believe there'll be animals in heaven.

all this beauty

there's so much beauty still on this tattered earth.

isn't that incredible?

purify my heart so that I never have to look away....

I've sung that. to Jesus. But maybe I don't mean it in the same way as the seraphim and the elders... maybe I mean that as I LIVE and enjoy life, purify my heart so that I never look away... wherever I look.

Whether shopping or baking or traveling or crying or talking or whatever... I'm looking into Jesus' eyes.

....~....~....

I've met revivalists who have never gazed at the moon. And artists who don't know why the F they're creating.

....~....~....

LOVE THIS VERSE:

For the earth will be filled with the KNOWLEDGE of the glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

~Habakkuk 2:14

It's the knowledge of the glory of God that's GOING to cover the earth.

His Glory is already there.

The earth is the LORD'S and everything in it, the earth and all who live in it. And the Spirit was hovering over the waters.

Imagine knowing the glory of God... and then discovering that He had knit your culture and tribe and tongue together from the beginning. Imagine seeing Love tenderly brush out the snarls that the devil tried to twist in. For God is not a God who abandons.

for God so loved the world

... do we? i've almost been trained to hate it.

whoops. how did that slip in?

Let's stop fragmenting and start reclaiming holy ground.

make something good

These are a plumerias:

They are gorgeous and smell like new creation.

Plumerias are everywhere in Singapore, white and purple and sweet pink.

Not surprisingly, remembering their fragrance reminded me of a song--

I wanted to make something sweet

The blood inside the maple tree

The sunlight trapped inside the wood

Make something good

I wanted to make something strong

An organ pipe in a cathedral

That stays in tune through a thousand blooms

Make something good

It's gonna take a long, long time

But we're gonna make something so fine

(Laura Veirs, "Make Something Good")

Being creators is weighty... but its heaviness pulls us up high.

We get to create as God creates. We get to be in the ministry of reconciliation, raise the dead with God.

The forever process of becoming holy as He's holy is treacherously unfair

until

we (lifted up on the shoulders of creating, of other brave creators) see that there are just so many more cool things we get to do if we're holy.

We won't get in the way as much anymore. Pride won't push us away from God. We'll get to stay close and actually pick up an instrument and join the orchestra. Sing with the morning stars, shout for joy with the angels, heal the nations...

It's like we've jumped completely into the ocean of God's love, and after hours of stubbornly smacking our faces into waves, we can ride them. Life's a lot easier when we've just accepted that we're dead and Christ lives in us instead.

We get to pour ourselves out as God pours in.

Love will fall to the earth like a crashing wave

(Toby Mac, "City On Our Knees")

--and we'll be part of it!

I'm very very very much not there yet. But God's kingdom is breaking into the gates of hell all over the earth and heaven just smells so sweet.

The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever. (KJV)

Holiness gives us the eyes to see heaven, smell it, absolutely bathe in it.

a little thought

I had a thought yesterday as I was walking...

well, first of all I had just finished reading "Out of the Silent Planet," and one phrase stuck out--

the main character, Ransom, said that if he would be killed on the way back to earth it would be because

"life was waiting outside... waiting at any moment to break in, and that, if it killed them, it would kill them by excess of its vitality (146, Lewis)."

death swallowed up by LIFE.

Maybe that's what really happens when we die: the remaining deadness in us, the ashes left of God's refining fire, will be consumed by life.

But the thought! :)

When we're jealous or envious of people we constrict ourselves and our world, even cursing it.

But when we can admire someone we open up ourselves and enable us to love and accept them--and I think we can become what we admire.

If we're big enough to affirm someone, we become what we liked in them.

Cinders and ashes

Egyptian Cinderella's golden slippers

What if all the things we longed for as children are true?

What if the truth is far better than we've ever hoped to dream?

The force holding the cosmos in balance, the Spirit that makes the morning stars sing-- GOD

is love.

There are certain stories that have woven their way into many cultures-- redemption songs.

One is the Cinderella story. I found many versions of this fairy tale when I wrote a paper on it freshman year for Lit. class, and each version had its own crazy details.

There's a Chinese, Egyptian, Mexican, American, Italian, German, Korean, Filipino, Irish, and Persian Cinderella. And those were just the ones I had time to read.

Every story began with an abused girl with something that set her apart (beauty, kindness, unnaturally small feet, or a star mark on her cheek), and ended with her marrying a prince.

Whether she and prince charming met at a ball or in church (Irish and American versions...hmmm beginning of single's groups? man oh man), Cinderella's abuser tried to thwart fate, such as giving the poor girl (or boy, in one version) impossible tasks to finish by ball time.

But Cinderella is magically helped by either animals, a personal fairy godmother, or her deceased mother. Nothing can stop them from being together, not even ugly stepsisters cutting off toes to fit into her pretty little slippers (the Brothers Grimm. lovely).

It's fascinating to see how that story has endured through generations and cultures. The most ancient version is apparently Chinese, being over a thousand years old. I wonder how it started.

Perhaps gospel message has echoed throughout history as rumors of grace, of the poor and abused making it, whispers of magical (insert 'divine') help in the most impossible circumstances.

I think where the story falls short is the explanation of how Cinderella is worthy of the prince's affections. In the stories she is very kindhearted or very beautiful or unique in some other way.

Maybe this plot line is a concession to what humans cannot accept: nothing makes us worthy.

We are dark yet lovely just because Jesus says so, but nothing we do or no beauty we possess ever attracts him to us. We are just his kids.

He loved us when we were covered with cinders and when all our good works are still no more than ashes. He won't let sin and death get in the way, and His Spirit is making us His even as we're still sweeping the fireplace.

He lifts us from the ash heap. (I Sam. 2:8, Ps. 113:7)

He will come and marry His bride. (Rev. 22:12-17)

Sometimes it's good to get out of our heads and think back to what we've most fiercely longed for, far too deeply to ever admit. And read and listen and (with much grace and God's good hope) discover that LOVE is on the throne.

and is taking a wife.