Author: <span>Jyllian M</span>

Every November it is the same

I am still sick from the flu I caught three weeks ago. Still feel yucky. I hope I have the energy to go to the Fantasy Ren Faire with the Bean and James tomorrow. Right now, I’m barely able to keep going. I’m very very tired. So I looked over …

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.~Ghandi

It had to happen. Some kid told our kid she was going to hell tonight. I’m so angry I”m shaking. First, the program gets changed into a pentacostal church revival meeting. Edited to add–It turns out that –the University Children’s Choir participated in someone else’s program. This guy turned the …

“The old believe everything; the middle aged suspect everything: the young know everything. Oscar Wilde

Well here is the obligatory soul searching blog post. I’m waiting to post this until after my birthday so I don’t bum anyone out. Thank you for all the good wishes. They actually do mean a lot. You learn to count your worth in FB or LJ comments (JOKE) and …

“How now, wit! Whither wander you?” ~Willy the Shake

And lo I have been gone these many days. It isn’t like I haven’t been up to lots. I’ve actually had more to do than I know how to deal with.  Good work, difficult work. A wonderful vacation. some loss Well. I’m back. And there will be more soon

After great pain a formal feeling comes–

The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs; The stiff Heart questions–was it He that bore? And yesterday–or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round A wooden way Of ground, or air, or ought, Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone. This is the hour of lead Remembered if outlived, As …

If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.

~Thoreau (right?) Somehow I always want to attribute this to the Die Blechtrommel. I march to a very different drum. Part of this has to do with my past. It wasn’t easy and that is a considerable understatement. I hope, in the near future to be able to work with …

My land is bare of chattering folk;

the clouds are low along the ridges, and sweet’s the air with curly smoke from all my burning bridges. Dorothy Parker (1893 – 1967), SANCTUARY Welly well. I’m sitting down and having a beer before my Spring break. Not the Spring break of my 2nd graduate degree, but the spring …