Title was going to be, "My life is a poem,"
but having finished the entry, "In which Elizabeth rants" seems more fitting.
On Saturday, Ruthie took me to lunch at Biblio's -- a Lebanese restaurant in South Norwood. It's this nice little real hole-in-the wall place. She said she heard that they're going to be moving into the big space downtown where Panda Rug used to be and they're going to have a function hall and stuff. Anyway, the staff was really nice and we got hummus and pita bread as an appetizer (yum!) and i got a Tabouli Hommus rollup. I could only finish one, so i had the other one wrapped up and had it for lunch today. Yay.
This group of four women (two who looked in their 30s or 40s and two who looked a generation older) came in with this adorable baby boy. They sat at the table in front of us on the other side of the aisle, and i was facing that direction, so i got to watch the adorable baby. He was remarkably quiet. He cried for about 30 seconds and this older guy who was sitting at the table behind us on their side of the aisle turned (He had been facing away from them.) and yelled, "Shut up." It was so sudden and unexpected i think we were all a bit in shock. He berated the mother a bit for not controlling her child. The woman sitting next to the mother told her not answer him, which was good advice. She (the mother) told him that she expected more from a grownup, that the child was behaving better than he was. I told Ruthie the child had been remarkably quiet and well-behaved and if the man was really bothered he could have gone over to their table and spoken to the woman politely. Ruthie said she thought that's what the man's wife was telling him now. Later the man went over to the table and said, "I apologize for my loud outburst." The mother was in no mood to accept his apology, though, and he wasn't really backing down -- still saying stuff like, "This is a public place, and it is a parent's responsibility to control a child" and such. She said, "You don't have children, do you?" and he admitted, "No, I don't," and she said, "I can tell."
It's a bit odd. Ruthie said she wanted to have lunch with me so she could hear about my year and stuff but she actually didn't ask too much about my year. I mean, some, but less than i would have expected. Today (Sunday) after church a lot of people asked me how my year went, and i felt really awkward. I said it was good and they seemed to be waiting for me to say more, but i didn't have more to say. I did have a good year, and an interesting year, and there's plenty to talk about (though i'm so
sick of everyone i see at the library asking me how i got along with my roommate) but i'm not about to volunteer information without being asked. I didn't have one of those perfect "I got straight As, joined the literary magazine and helped put out a fabulous issue which you can see a copy of if you're interested, took a film class and discovered a passion for silent films, had a great boyfriend for a few months but it didn't work out oh well, and my roommate and i are like best friends and we're going to room together next year." I made a few good friends, i got decent grades, i got along with my roommate, didn't have a job or get involved in many activities, and was generally happy with how my year turned out. It doesn't sum up well, and i'm not exactly bursting to tell people who think i'm wonderful that i got only decent grades and didn't get involved with much and so on. I am very much satisfied, even happy, with how my first year went, but i know other people. Plus, if you wanna know how my year went, just ask me. Ask me specific questions. Care. I think i'm getting tired of being asked how my year went and knowing what they want to hear (straight As, maybe some other stuff) and letting them be satisfied with an enthusiastic "good" because they really don't care all that much.
Okay, that came out a bit more bitchy than i'd intended. Guess i had more rant to get out of my system than i'd thought.
My mom took me to the Westwood Cemetery -- which i learned is close enough for me to walk to easily -- and we stood at Olive's grave for a while and then wandered through the rest of the cemetery. It's larger than it looks, but still fairly small. It's on a hill, though, and the ground is very uneven. Odd choice for a cemetery. Then we went to Norwood so my mom could show me Phyllis's grave. My mom asked if i thought people would consider it disrespectful if someone chalked on a headstone. I said yes, most people would consider it disrespectful. She said it would be great for kids, to say goodbye or whatever. I think it's a great idea and if i have some sort of headstone or marker when i die (I'm thinking cremation or body donated to science.) i would totally love if people chalked on it.
I think i lack the proper reverence for cemeteries. I go and it just feels like any other place. Okay, so it didn't help that when we went yesterday it was in bright sunlight, but even when i've been at night it's not too much of a big deal. It's sometimes interesting to try to create stories about the people who are buried there, but there's very little information to create a story from, even in the best of circumstances (family plot, many family members, lots of stuff at the graves). Honestly, i find cemeteries boring.
A lot of the Westwood graves, and some of the Norwood ones, had "PERPETUAL CARE" carved into the headstones. Even after a Google search i still don't really know what that means. I should ask Marilyn May -- a woman at church who works at a funeral home.
I finally watched the Harry Potter
movie with my family last night. That's going to be a whole nother entry.
Today was Children's Sunday. That was okay.
There was a baptism. Taylor Davies -- female. The mom was in jeans. She looked very nice, but still, in jeans. And no father. No mention of a father. I would be interested to hear the story behind that.
There were tons of kids. Tim said, "You all look lovely," and i winced. It implies that the kids only look good when they're dressed up, and i just get annoyed by focus no appearance. The social indoctrination starts early. Yeah, i have issues. Apparently the children's message for the past couple weeks has focused on holiness. I wish i'd been there to hear Tim try to explain "holiness" to a bunch of little kids. Heck, i'd like someone to explain just what "holiness" is to me
. Anyway, today focused on listening to God. Chelsey and Andrew were the two volunteers. Tim had them walk to the back of the church. Then he said he had something to give Andrew which was good for him and he had something to give Chelsey which was bad for her. He said if they would both just come up to the front of the sanctuary he would give them what he had for them. By the time she came into my line of vision, Chelsey seemed totally nonplussed by all this, though i didn't see her face when Tim first said he had something bad for her. Anyway, they both went up front. Andrew got his item first. A small apple. He almost immediately put it in is mouth, so he was in the midst of biting it when Tim said he had to wait until later to eat it, tee hee. Now i had an idea as to what Chelsey was going to get. For her, Tim pulled out a king-size Hershey's bar. Her eyes got very big. That was cute.
The sermon was about Jesus feeding the 5000 with the two small fish and five small loaves of the little boy. Pastor Bill had three points about the boy -- he was willing, he had faith, and he didn't doubt. In my mind, the three points aren't the important part. The important part - i.e., what i found so very problematic - was the focus on the little boy, talking about all these qualities he had and stuff. The story is in all four gospels, but only John mentions the child. In the other gospels, the disciples simply say stuff like, "We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish." In John 6:9, Andrew says, "There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish." For all we know, the boy wanted to keep his lunch but Andrew told him to give it up -- the story of Jesus and the children tells us that the disciples thought little of children. Yes, as my mother says, it was implied that the child wanted to share and all, but i just feel like it's making something out of nothing. Okay, Jesus did a miracle. Spinning this whole tale about this wonderful child is just making up a story to serve a purpose (to convince people to trust God, even when God tells them to give stuff up and even when things seem impossible). Yes, this is partly my cynicism and propensity to bitch as well as a result of literary study classes which emphasize working with just the text (and the socio-historical and biographical contexts).
Okay, time to start on my long post complaining about the Harry Potter
(Oh, and i found out today that the book i mentioned in my Blade
ramblings -- the one that uses the running-water-repels-vampires myth -- is The Silver Kiss
by Annette Curtis Klause.) Current Mood: wow i write long entries