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...

http://reflectionsoramirroroflife.wordpress.com/

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. =)

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. ;-)







M-M-M-Monday

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

The Parrot Sketch

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

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 grace...my life would be truly hopeless.

And then I really would need a crutch.

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!
 
Sooo...now 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!

KOHN for Life

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

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).