Thursday, October 4, 2012

Moving Time!

A big thank you and greeting to the faithful, few followers! I actually have big news for y'all - ready for this? We are moving!

Before you get all concerned, let me reassure you: we're not moving far. Just a hop, skip, and a jump over to Wordpress, which I am assured will be much more readable and professional looking. If you would like to come along for the journey, please: follow the link below and hit subscribe when we get there. Thanks ever so much! Appreciate you guys...

Word of warning to the wise (or just those leery of change) - there will be many fluid changes going on, as I try to make it the best I possibly can. Therefore, it may change from day to day. Just bear with me, and I think everything will be...hunky-dory. =)

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Days of Color

I do not care for Mondays (see: loathe, detest, despise, ad infinitum...). Therefore, I am exceedingly glad it is a Tuesday, which is a very non-Monday sort of day.

Days of the week, to me, all seem to possess their own sort of personality; for example, Monday is a stressed, frazzled being, a Nervous Nellie, and continually mutters to herself, trying to remember that one thing she has forgotten to do - probably Algebra. Or some other frightful thing.

Ahhh, but Tuesday...Tuesday, on the other hand, is not quite smug, but very close. She has the self-complacent air of "Well, I'm not perfect, but at least I'm not Monday." She is relaxed, easy-going, and also prone to forgetfulness, though her's is more from an attitude of "Welp. I think Monday did Algebra yesterday; therefore, that knowledge should carry over today." Tuesday is also prone to philosophical ramblings, which aids and abets her lack of ambition.

The other day, I read the most amazingly colorful description of the days of the week, voiced by L. M. Montgomery's Story Girl.

The Story Girl, Sara Stanley, has the magical gift of storytelling, and the enchanted voice to match. During one particularly brilliant session of storytelling, Sara remarks to one of her cousins that "There ARE times when I can't think anything but gray thoughts. Then, other days, I think pink and blue and gold and purple and rainbow thoughts all the time."
"The idea! As if thoughts were coloured," giggled Felicity.
"Oh, they are!" cried the Story Girl. "Why, I can always SEE the colour of any thought I think. Can't you?"
"I never heard of such a thing," declared Felicity, "and I don't believe it. I believe you are just making that up."
"Indeed I'm not. Why, I always supposed everyone thought in colours. It must be very tiresome if you don't."
One of her cousins later remarked that "We thought the Story Girl was making fun of us. But I believe she really had a strange gift of thinking in colours. In later years, when we were grown up, she told me of it again. She said that everything had colour in her thought; the months of the year ran through all the tints of the spectrum, the days of the week were arrayed as Solomon in his glory, morning was golden, noon orange, evening crystal blue, and night violet. Every idea came to her mind robed in its own especial hue."
I literally heaved a sigh of jealousy. To be able to think, feel, describe in color. Story characters have all of the luck. Then I discovered that this is an actual "condition" (though I still crave it) called "Synthesia", in which the special beings among us literally see the world, sequences (i.e days of the week, numbers, etc.) in the most vivid and intriguing of ways.
Oh, oh...hang on a sec. I think I feel the condition coming on now...
Yes, indeed. I have had a colorful epiphany. Monday, the day we love to hate, is sort of a muddy-complexioned brown - yeah, that sounds right. And Tuesday? Tuesday is a veddy, veddy self-satisfied purple, shot through with glorious streaks of pink and orange.
And to the rest of you poor non-synthesia peoples: you are all pea-green. With envy. ;-)

Monday, October 1, 2012


My unfailing reaction to Mondays. (However, this one has been...*whispering*...pretty good. Don't tell Monday. Please.)

Saturday, September 29, 2012

The Parrot Sketch

How is it that though they never seem amused, Brits possess some of the greatest humor in the world?

Monday, September 24, 2012

In the Beginning...God

In the beginning...God. The One who was. Who is. And Who will be. God, the all-knowing, the all-powerful, the all-sufficient. The all-loving.

In fact, this God loved so passionately, so incredibly, that He created man, purely for the joy of creating life and enjoying His creation.

And man was perfect and whole, completely enchanted and overwhelmed by the magnificent glory of His Creator. He walked and talked with the God of the Universe in innocent and joyous companionship. But then man sinned (as is so often the case), and his very being was ripped in two. No longer was he complete, clothed in God’s glory; instead, the perfect companionship was broken, and man was now alone, filled only with a gaping, God-shaped hole in his heart.

But the all-knowing God had already forseen this tragedy and had designed a redemption plan. When all was complete, He waited with outstretched hands for His creation, His beloved ones to return to perfect fellowship and a new sense of purpose – to live for His glory.

Fast-forward many, many years to our lifetime. The sin pattern is still the same. I sin (as is so often the case), but now, because of our Lord’s sacrifice, I am not left alone, wandering hopelessly through an empty world. God restores me to His fellowship and shows me once again that without Him I am nothing. That without Him, I have no meaning. Only through Him, can I find my true self and purpose.

What's that you say? Ah, you think this is just a nice story, created by someone who needs a crutch? Well, let me tell you...

I do need a crutch. In all honesty, I cannot make it in this life without help.

And if you were honest, you know you can't either. But now, I'm being honest - so I ask you: Is not my crutch better than most? It doesn't leave me sick and hungover, wondering what in the world I did last night. It doesn't cause me to injure others in a self-absorbed daze of oblivion.

My "crutch" inspires. Gives me something to live for. Someone to live for. Mostly, it gives me a hope that my life will actually count for something.

'Cause let's face it: if this is it...

Yeah. This life is amazing, don't get me wrong. But it's certainly not perfect. Horrific things happen every single day, and sometimes is feels as though everything, at any given second, could spiral completely out of control...and then what?

In my case, then God...because, I know that without Him and His promises, hope of eternal life, and amazing life would be truly hopeless.

And then I really would need a crutch.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Thank You in Every Language

This post is actually more of a thank you than anything else - although a bit of giddy celebration may slip in every so often. Just...forgive me when (not if) this happens. =)
I so appreciate the readers who take the time to browse through this blog, and even more the ones who take the time to post such encouraging comments. You are all amazing! for some stats. Those who have blogs may be interested - or not. Those who do not have blogs - you may be excused. You probably will not be interested in my blow-by-blow account of how someone in Latvia (where in the world is that, anyway??) once read my blog.
That being said: U.S. of A., coming in at 598 views! (Thanks, mom!) Seriously, thanks to my very favorite country in the world.
Russia, coming in at 38 views! спасибо! I truly hope that says "thank you"; if not, Google Translate has taken complete advantege of my trusting nature once again.
Germany, coming in at 13 views: Danke!! (The fault is mine alone if that's wrong; of course, if it is, I'm a disgrace to my part German heritage.)
Latvia, coming in at 2 views: Paldies! (Again, Google Translate - I hope you have my back. Or this could get ugly.)
And Indoneisa, United Kingdom, and Thailand with 1 view a piece: Thank you for accidentally stumbling upon this bit of randomness. May your cursor go nuts and accidentally click on this again sometime. ;-)
'Til next time!

Saturday, September 15, 2012

KOHN for Life

Hi. My name is Allison Bunke. And I am an unrepentant

I know, I know. Shake your little pointy heads at me and waggle your fingers accusingly. *Hushed whisper* But it really won't make a difference. Wait, if it makes you feel better - how does "a keen observer of human nature" sound? Good? Good.

All right. Keen observer of human nature it is. KOHN fo short. But people, if I didn't "observe" keenly, would I have the opportunity to hear amazing conversations like this? I ask you...

Bethany walks into my parents' bedroom and notices Em crouched silently in a corner.

"Hey, Em," she greets the small mite cheerfully. "What you doing?"

Em sighs wistfully, her face propped on her pudgy hands. "I is sinking."

"You're sinking?" repeats Beth, bewildered.

Slightly annoyed, Em said, "No, I say I was stinking."

"You stink?!"

A long, pregnant silence reigns.

"I," Em finally said patronizingly, "was si...THINKING."

"Oh." Bethy said. And walked off.

Now, I ask you: is that not sheer gold? And would I not have been an absolute fool to walk off at the moment they started talking?

I rest my case.

Hi. My name is Allison Bunke. And I am a KOHN. (You can be a Kohn too - life is sooo much more fun).

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

A Lyrical Masterpice: Or Not

I love music. Apparently, so have many others throughout history - you know, those no-names, say Beethoven. Or Bach. Other little people like that. Some have even been so moved by music that they composed lyrical words in praise of it...

I am one of those people. Now, I did not say that they were good lyrical words - but they are words. And they are mine. So that's a start.

Right? Right. (I like you guys. Always so agreeable).

Without further ado: "The Spirit of Music" (Please. PLEASE. Hold the applause until afterwords. Thanks).

Lilting, coaxing, pleading, teasing
The witchery of Music lures me

To an enchanted world of magic and wonder.
A merry, elfin tune, ever changing, here
One moment, gone the next
Peeking 'round a corner, singing
Out, “Catch me if you can!”
I reach out longingly, stretching my
Hands toward the elusive promise of
Music – almost capturing, but not
Quite, nearly grasping but never
Totally. Then, like the will-o-the-wisp
She is, Music suddenly
Turns – and captures me.

There ya go. I know y'all didn't ask for this...then again, how would I know? Y'all are a pretty quiet bunch. One never knows. Therefore, we shall assume that you DID ask for this masterpiece, and that you have been on your knees, begging for this...yeah, that sounds about right. In that case:

You are so welcome.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Hitler in a Pink Tutu

You've heard of Adolf Hitler, of course? Of course. Well, I know someone who makes him look like Mother Teresa. Her name is Emily. And she lives in my house.

Little Adolpha Hitlerette (a.k.a. Em) does not look tyrannical at first glance. A tiny, red-haired moppet, Em looks like a mini philosopher, with her old-soul eyes and a stare that can make a grown man cringe. However, do not let the big, brown eyes fool you. She can rule with a rod of iron - and frequently does.

One of my favorite sights is seeing Em gesture imperiously at Jerm, who at six foot, absolutely dwarfs her, and lay down the law to him. "Come here, son," she commands grandly.

Bemused, Jerm comes, and she looks him over, then motions him away. "Okay, I doesn't want you anymore."

Jerm grins and tousles her hair, "All right, Your Majesty." Bristling, she draws herself up to her full height of two feet and glares at him for a long five seconds, before stalking away silently.

This is the Tiny Tyrant. But is this just one of the many sides of the complex one we call Em.

Here is another side:

And this...this is the side we love. The one in which Adolph Hitler is sweetly ensconced in a pretty, pink tutu.

Pink tutu = magical personality changer. Too bad Hitler didn't have that option...

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Vote - Early and Often!!

Hello blogging world!

I have a humongous favor to ask my hundreds of faithful followers...(what's that? oh, you, you're saying I don't have a hun...)

Okay, then. I have something to ask of my dozens of...(What? That's too high t...)

Fine. Mr. Bossy (A.k.a. The Little Voice in My Head) says I can't say hundreds when I really have 10. (But what he doesn't know won't hurt him, eh?)

All righty then. If all one hundred of you would march over to the link I will provide below, read my essay, and vote for it at the bottom of the page, I would be forever in your debt. Just so all one hundred of you know, this can also be a daily thing, so...hint, hint.

Thanks ever so much!! (Take that Mr. Bossy)

Friday, August 24, 2012

Romance and Cake


I like weddings. So does my mom. And my little sisters. And my brothers (surprisingly). To be perfectly honest though, I think we all like weddings for different reasons.

I just love the lovely atmosphere of weddings. Soft music in the background, the muted glow of candlelight, and the restrained feeling of nervous anticipation rustling about the room. Finally, a resounding chord crashes through the almost silence as a white-gowned figure appears and floats towards the one she will soon call "husband." It's a time of celebration, a holy joining of two lives into one, and a lasting covenant, "until death do us part."

My mom likes weddings because she is getting ideas for mine. (In the far, distant, and unforeseeable future)  ;-) She searches through the program, "Ooo, Allison, look at this! This would be perfect. Oh, but I'm not sure about the decorations...the pillars are pretty though." When she has compiled her little, mental checklist, then and only then, will she relax and watch the proceedings. (I love this little ritual because I will be a HORRIFIC wedding planner...I don't even have the stinkin' colors picked out. I have (much) younger, female friends who have their entire weddings planned and who look at me pityingly when the subject comes up).

My sisters love the dresses, especially those worn by the flower girls and bridesmaids. Colors are discussed earnestly as eager eyes drink in the different furbelows and flounces. Then come the accusing glances: "So. When are YOU getting married, so we can be in your wedding?"

Slighty taken aback, I answer, "Um. I have no clue...but won't you guys even miss me??

"Yes." Hannah answers in monotone. "I will miss you very much..." Her face brightens. "In my own room!"

My brothers just come for the cake. No cake, they no come. So, when I heard dim rumors that they were discussing weddings, I was flabbergasted. I looked down the long table we were sharing with friends at a wedding reception and demanded details. Turns out, they WERE discussing weddings...with the participants dressed up as cartoon characters. Mid-sentence, one stopped and remarked, "And this is gooood cake."

But no matter the reasoning, I think everyone loves a wedding. And with good reason...where else can you find romance? And free style ideas? And beautiful dresses? AND gooood cake?

Yes. I rest my case. =)

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Why am I here?

Have you ever wondered why you were put on this earth? Lest this set off a lemming-like thought process, "Yeah. Why in the whole world was I pu...I'm gonna go jump off a cliff. Make myself feel better..., " let me clarify. =)

I don't mean this in a purely Christian sense, though as a Christian, obviously the first answer would be, "To glorify Him, and Him alone." No. I mean - why? And what? What am I, as an unique individual, with specific likes and dislikes, loves, tastes, and interests...what am I put here on earth to do?

Sometimes, as a member of a 7.7 billion population, it's easy to think, "My stars. Okay, I could write a great mystery, about a cold, logical detective called...oh, wait. Curse you, Arthur Conan Doyle. Or...I could compose soul-stirring melodies like..." This usually ends in cursing the entire human race for being too original. Leonardo da Vinci? Really? This guy gives overachievers a bad name. I mean, c'mon. Leave something for the rest of us to do, why don'tcha?!

But then I stop and consider: the very hairs of my head are numbered by the Creator of the Universe. He called me by name in my mother's womb. He makes no mistakes, and most certainly, does not make exact replicas or robots. We are all "fearfully and wonderfully made" by the God who SPOKE the world into existence, who painted the radiant sky, purely for his pleasure, and who gives all mankind a desire to create, to discover, to be an individual.

I think, if we were all honest, we each cherish a secret dream in our hearts, one that we wouldn't dare share for fear of being ridiculed, or worse yet, taken seriously and forced to try...and perhaps fail. Isn't that the scariest thing in the world? To attempt one's greatest dream, only to fail from inadequacy? Far safer is the route so many take, hugging their dreams to themselves in that half-desperate knowledge of, "I could. I just don't want to."

My comfort zone is small. I know that. But I'd like to be willing to stretch my comfort zone to it's limits, so it's limits can expand. Is it scary? Unbelievably so. Do I often crawl back into the safe confines? Embarrassingly often. But I think that's human...and something I'll always have to deal with. Far better to have tried - and perhaps failed - than to live your life with "what-might-have-beens."

Now to take my own sage advice...think I'll go give writing another shot. Move over, Sir Athur Conan Doyle. ;-)

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Off-beat College

I have had many reactions to my degree. The main one involves first a blank stare, then an uncomprehending nod of assent as I regale my poor conversational partner with a rehearsed monologue, starting with, "I am in college. It's a program called Collegeplus! ONLINE. Yes, online..." and ending with a firm, "And I'm excited about it." They smile encouragingly as they edge away, eyes darting about for a normal college student to talk to.

The second one I enjoy even more. I had one guy nod politely, even encouragingly, through my spiel, interject a couple shrewd questions, then ask inquiringly, "So, I mean that's super cool. Saving money, doing the degree faster...awesome. But like...have you ever considered a real school?"

No. Way. Like, there's REAL schools out there? Homeschoolers really are sheltered. ;-)

The third one though...that's the one that really warms my heart. I will look into the warm eyes of someone who is genuinely interested and stumblingly begin my speech. I will be stopped mid-way through my half-defensive monologue by two brief words.

"How neat." In disbelief, I will look up, just to check to see if they really mean it, only to find:

They. Really. Do.

I will be the first to admit that my degree is sort of ...different. I might even go so far as to admit that it is slightly off-beat. However, Collegeplus! has given me the opportunity to do a 4 year degree in 2 years, for about one-fourth of the cost, and at a self-driven pace. It has allowed me to still live at home and enjoy my family for just a little bit longer. And it even offers cool opportunities like the one below:

And best of all, I have the time to do what I love best of all: write. Please, if I have intrigued you at all (or merely made you laugh, cringe, or a random conglommeration of all three), check out the link, and just see if Collegeplus! suits your college needs at all. And hey...if you do enroll, take it from me.

You will never lack for interesting conversational partners.


Friday, July 13, 2012

Words and Their Beauty

I love writing.

I love pouring out thoughts, emotions, feelings onto paper, all the while enjoying the effect of the inky black words against the crisp white background. I love capturing a precious moment, then coming back, time and again, to relive it as many times as I choose. I love playing on people's emotions, making them feel the experience as I did - the lyrical song of a bird, the anguish of a lost loved one, the unexplicable, sheer rush of joy at this fickle thing we call life. I even love the frustration of trying to master these inflexible, stubborn creatures known as words, as I try to mould them into the lovely form I see in my mind's eye, instead of this jumbled mass of nothing.

But above all, I love other people's writing. At the age of three or four, I discovered the  vast world of books and have never gotten over its' sheer beauty. What other world contains such fascinating, witty people? What other world contains such spell-binding experiences, or inspires such a breathless wonder? In short, what other world allows you to live another's life by proxy? (In case you wondered, the answer is none. You're welcome. =)

I'd like to think of myself as an eclectic reader, but unfortunately, I'm afraid I would be better described as a sort of "Hodge-Podge Reader." HPR for short. In the space of an hour, I can be totally enthralled by the brilliance of a cold, logical detective and his trusty, often bemused, side-kick, Watson, the charm of a chatty, red-haired orphan girl called Anne (with an E), or the absolute and utter wit of a colorful children's book I picked up off the floor, one which my two year old sister had been enjoying seconds before. In truth, I could probably add "dated" to my title of HPR, because I love time-period books that whisk you away into a completely different time, one in which people really did drive wagons, and really did have kings and queens, and really did...everything differently.

So, tell me - what kind of a reader are you? Are you of the cold, logical sort and think poring over chemistry books is enthralling? (If so, please don't comment. I like reading about people like you. In real life, you terrify me. ;-) Are you the romantic, sighing type who cannot get enough of beautiful heroines and dashing heroes? The picture-loving type? The mystery lover, the sci-fi enthusiast - or maybe just...another HPR? I would love to know! =)

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

I you?

I you?

Those two words never fail to stop me in my tracks. I know that when I look behind I will see big, brown eyes, pleading with me. Two pudgy, outstretched arms. A quivering bottom lip thrown in for dramatic effect.

So I turn. Slowly. Sometimes reluctantly.

And I say, "What, Em? You wanna come with me?"

The patter of her feet always answers. She runs to me, eyes now beaming, stares up - way up, since at the gargatuan height of 5'4", I usually tower over most 2 year olds - and waits, chubby arms still outstretched.

I whisk her into my arms, and she laughs in delight.

She is coming. Her plea has been heard. And she is coming.

I look down at her wispy head, which is cuddled against my shoulder, and wonder...

Is this how God feels about us?

He stands, waiting, watching, as self-sufficient human forms mill about below. They know the right things to do, the right things to say, the right way to live - life is good.

Then the unthinkable happens...a child dies. A young life taken far too soon. A job is lost. A good family turned out on the streets.

And self-sufficiency dies. Articulate people lose the ability to speak, for there are no words to say.

At wit's end, they finally look up - and see the waiting form of the Father.

"Father," comes the broken whisper. "Abba. Daddy...I you?"

The Father hears the simple words - but He hears so much more. Father, will you help me, guide me, teach me, strengthen me. Take me with you. I want you, love you. Father...

"I you?"

The Father slowly turns...but His slowness is not from reluctance. He is savoring this moment, the cry of His child for His presence and closeness. A smile breaks across His face, and He sweeps the weary form into His arms.

And life regains meaning.

Friday, May 4, 2012


Hello, blogging world!

Brief disclaimer to start off: I honestly have nothing to say that is earth-shattering.

There. I've said it. Sigh of relief.

I know, I know. It's crazy - I mean, then why start a blog, right? If you are not going to inspire the world with witty quips, breath-taking revelations, or just a better recipe for chocolate chip cookies, why bother?

That being said, I do have a goal for this blog. I would like to share small tid-bits of my life - the good, the bad, and the ugly - in the hopes that you, my captive audience (ha!) will laugh, ponder, or perhaps just shake your heads in disbelief. Honestly, I'm good with any one of those reactions.

Seriously though, the title says it all. This blog will be a place of reflections - reflections about life, hopes, dreams, goals - the ultimate goal being that my life will be a living, breathing reflection of the Lord Jesus Christ. Imperfect, yes. Wavering, most definitely. But ultimately, reflecting his image ever clearer in the mirror of my life.

This being the first post (squeal - I have a blog!), it will be short, sweet, and to the point. However, I tend to be a bit of a rambler. Therefore, you will not get off as easily next time.  You have been forwarned!  =)

Until next time...