I'm glad I'm a journalist because when I need to find some, I know how to do it.
Kate borrowed my chem book for the second half of the semester, and I thought I had taken it down from amazon.com. Apparently, I hadn't, and Kate still had the book when I got the "sold! please ship within 2 business days" email. I didn't have Kate's number.
I called Katie Rose, the reason I met Kate, but she didn't have Kate's number.
I checked Kate's facebook page (I'm not her friend, but I could see her profile) but her phone number wasn't there.
I went to the Hillsdale student directory and found her address, but her phone number wasn't listed.
I went to white pages on yellowpages.com and typed in her last name and zip code, but again, her phone number wasn't listed.
I went back to her facebook and clicked on the most recent post on her wall. The link sent me to Elizabeth's profile. I don't know Elizabeth, but I checked her profile for her phone number--she probably had Kate's number.
Elizabeth's number wasn't listed, but I saw that she was "in a relationship with Mitchell," and I had Mitchell's phone number--he and a couple other people and I studied philosophy together first semester freshman year.
While the phone rang, I saw that Christina had posted on Kate's wall as well. I talked to Christina over aim quite a bit--she and I were in the same Latin and Greek classes and we sometimes rode to Mass together.
I called Mitchell and started typing a message to Christina. Mitchell answered before I was finished typing, so I asked for Kate's number, and he gave it to me.
I called Kate.
Kate said she'd ship the book tomorrow.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Adventures of George the Viking
an anachronistic and heartily plagiarized tale mostly by Mary Petrides, about a year ago
Chapter One
How George the Viking Conquered England
Once upon a time there was a Viking farmer who had three Viking sons: Alexandros, Pip, and George. The farmer grew old and died, leaving only his tiny hut as inheritance, so the three sons set out to try their luck.
One day they came to a hill of silver. “This is all I need,” said Alexandros, and he filled his bags and pockets with as much silver as he could carry and returned home. Pip and George continued on in hopes of something better further on.
Later they came to a hill of gold. “This is all I need,” said Pip, and he filled his bags and pockets with as much gold as he could carry and returned home. George continued journeying.
George walked into a great forest that seemed to have no end. He climbed the tallest tree and looked around and all he could see were treetops, stretched for miles in every direction. “Frick!” said George. Wondering where he would stay the night, he exclaimed “what I wouldn’t give for Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos!” He climbed down the tree and there on the ground was a tablecloth with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos. Without asking where the meal came from, George ate to his heart’s content. When he was finished, he picked up the tablecloth and took it with him.
He journeyed further into the woods and he came upon a charcoal burner. “Good day,” George said to the charcoal burner. “Potatoes for supper again?” “Yes,” said the charcoal burner, “and though it isn’t much, you may be my guest for supper.” “Thank you,” said George, “but I’ll be treating you to supper tonight.” The charcoal burner couldn’t see how George could fit a supper into his pockets, but George pulled out the tablecloth and laid it on the ground. “Tablecloth, set yourself!” George commanded, and the tablecloth was immediately filled with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos.
When George and the charcoal burner had eaten their fill, the charcoal burner said “what I wouldn’t give for a tablecloth like that! I have a knapsack in my hut that has magic powers, and I’ll trade it to you for the tablecloth.” “First,” said George, “I’ll have to know what those magic powers are.” “When you slap the knapsack, a corporal and six soldiers appear, armed to the teeth, and ready to do whatever you command.” “A fine trade,” said George. He took the knapsack and left the tablecloth with the charcoal burner.
George walked further into the woods. “Let’s see if this knapsack really works!” he said. He slapped the knapsack and there appeared seven men, armed to the teeth, just as the charcoal burner had said. “Go back to the charcoal burner and demand that he give my tablecloth back,” George orderedthem. They soon returned with the tablecloth: they hadn’t asked the charcoal burner; they’d just taken it. George dismissed them and continued on.
Soon he came upon another charcoal burner. “All I have is two potatoes,” the charcoal burner said, “but you are welcome to share them.” “Thank you,” said George, “but I’ll be treating you to supper tonight.” The charcoal burner couldn’t see how George could fit a supper into his pockets, but George pulled out the tablecloth and laid it on the ground. “Tablecloth, set yourself!” George commanded, and the tablecloth was immediately filled with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos.
After George and the charcoal burner had eaten their fill, the charcoal burner said “I have a hat in my hut, and this hat has magic powers. If you put it on and give it one-quarter turn, a battery of guns begins firing. I’d be happy to trade it to you for the tablecloth.” Once again George made the trade, and once again he slapped the knapsack and sent the soldiers back to regain the tablecloth.
George continued walking and saw a third charcoal burner. “You are welcome to be my guest tonight,” said the charcoal burner, “if you don’t mind potatoes.” “Thank you,” said George, “but I’ll be treating you to supper tonight.” The charcoal burner couldn’t see how George could fit a supper into his pockets, but George pulled out the tablecloth and laid it on the ground. “Tablecloth, set yourself!” George commanded, and the tablecloth was immediately filled with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos.
George and the charcoal burner finished eating, and the charcoal burner said “I have a horn in my hut that has magic powers. When you blow the horn, the earth shakes and buildings tumble so that not one stone is left lying on another stone. I’ll gladly trade it for your tablecloth.” “A fine trade!” exclaimed George, who made the trade and promptly sent the soldiers back to retrieve the tablecloth.
“I have a magic knapsack, a magic hat, and a magic horn, not to mention a magic tablecloth,” said George. “I’ll go home and see how my brothers are doing.” He went home and found his brothers living in style in a mansion with gold, silver, and lots of fancy electronics. When his brothers opened the door and saw him in an ugly sweater and green pants, they laughed at him. “You can’t be our brother!” they said. “Our brother passed up silver and gold for better luck! He wouldn’t come in an ugly sweater and green pants!” They slammed the door in his face.
George slapped the knapsack several times until he had whipped up a good-sized army, then he ordered the soldiers to harass his brothers. The king sent his army to counter them, but George slapped his knapsack several more times and whipped up an even larger army. The king sent reinforcements, but they accomplished even less. George demanded to marry the king’s daughter, and the king had no choice but to let him. The princess was highly disappointed to marry George, and George was highly disappointed to find out that she was an ugly Puritan named Buttercup.
They were married nonetheless, but Buttercup was determined to kill George. She took off her ugly Puritanical bonnet and her ugly Puritanical dress and asked George to get rid of his ugly knapsack. “I won’t,” said George. “Why not?” Buttercup asked. “It’s embarrassing to me. It’s ugly.” George suddenly found her beautiful, or at least passable, or anyway, as good as an ugly Puritanical lady named Buttercup was going to get. “My knapsack is my source of power,” he said. “Every time I slap it, a corporal and six soldiers appear, armed to the teeth, ready do my bidding.” “Oh, George!” said Buttercup. She threw her arms around him as if to kiss him, but deftly slipped the knapsack off his shoulders and ran away. She slapped it once and ordered the soldiers to escort George out of the palace. They forced George off the property and obtained a restraining order, but as soon as George’s hands were free, he turned his hat and the battery of guns began firing. The king and his daughter had to let George back into the palace.
Buttercup was still determined to kill George, so again she took off her ugly Puritanical bonnet and her ugly Puritanical dress and asked George what was the source of his power. “It’s my hat,” said George, again finding her suddenly beautiful. “When I turn it, a battery of guns begins to fire.” Buttercup threw her arms around him as if to kiss him, but she slipped the hat off his head and ran away. Again she had George escorted off the premises. George blew his horn over and over again and the castle tumbled down and his brothers’ mansion tumbled down. Not a single stone was left on another stone, and his brothers, the king, and the king’s daughter were killed. George retrieved the knapsack and the hat and got to be king over the whole country.
Chapter Two
How George the Viking Discovered New Lands and Went to Russia
Soon George the Viking became bored of England, so he picked up the knapsack, the hat, and the horn, and, not forgetting the tablecloth, set sail for Russia. George was a clever man and thought to get east by going west. On his way to Russia, he accidentally bumped into Canada, a land which no one had ever seen before. In Canada there lived mythological creatures like elves, dwarves, and meteors. George was deftly navigating his way between the islands of northern Canada when the water froze over, trapping his ship. He slapped the knapsack with his frozen hands and the soldiers appeared. “We’re army men, not navy men,” said the corporal. “Don’t ask us what to do with a ship.” George dismissed them. He was at his wit’s end, not knowing what to do, when suddenly there appeared a draagyn. George whipped out his sword, ready to slay the draagyn. “Wait!” the draagyn cried. “I’m not a dragon! I’m a draagyn, which is very closely related to the dragon, but we’re not the same thing. Draagyns are good; dragons are evil. Don’t slay me!” “Frick!” said George. “I was hoping there was a beautiful princess to rescue!” “No,” said the draagyn, “but there is one in Russia.” “Oh, good,” said George. “I was on my way to Russia. But then I got stuck in the ice and now I’m not sure what to do.” “I will help you if you promise to offer a ride to anyone who asks for one,” said the draagyn. George promised, and the ship sprouted wings and flew off in the general direction of Russia.
Soon, George heard a voice and stopped the boat. “I’m listening to everything in the world, but I need a ride to Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George. The man who listened to everything in the world climbed aboard the boat. Later, George heard a voice. “I unstrapped one of my legs so that I wouldn’t reach the end of the world in one bound, but I left the leg in Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George. The man with one leg climbed aboard. Again, George heard another voice. “I can shoot a bird at a hundred miles, and I did, but it’s in Russia, and I need a ride to pick it up.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George. The man who could shoot a bird at a hundred miles climbed aboard. “I need a great basket of bread for breakfast,” said another voice, and yet another said “I could drink a whole lake and still be thirsty.” “I’ll give you a ride to Russia if you’d like,” said George. “I’ve never been to Russia,” said the hungry man. “Neither have I,” said the thirsty man, and the two of them climbed aboard the ship. Another voice said “I have a straw that makes everything cold, and Napoleon’s about to invade, so I need to go to Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George, and the man with a straw that made everything cold climbed aboard. Yet another voice said “I’m a tailor with a magic needle. I’d like to try my luck in Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George, and the tailor with a magic needle climbed aboard. Still another voice said “I’m a perfectly normal person. Can I come, too?” “Frick!” said George. “Normal people aren’t supposed to show up in fairy tales! But I suppose I must give you a ride. Come aboard, then.” The perfectly normal person climbed aboard the ship as well and gave George a squeaking haggis.
Chapter Three
Why It Was George the Viking’s Fault that the Princess was Turned Into a Flower and How He Saved Her
The ship landed in Russia and everyone got out and scattered. George took the knapsack, the hat, and the horn, and, not forgetting the tablecloth, got into a canoe and followed a river to a mystic seaport in Byzantium. Mist swelled and ebbed about the dock, and a distant chorus chanted “unus … nullus … ullus … solus … unus … nullus … ullus … solus.” “Why is there a seaport on a river?” George wondered, but not for long because he glimpsed a beautiful lady with red hair flowing to her waist, skin the color of snow, and eyes green like the sea after a storm. The mist flowed over her and when it moved again, she was gone.
“Who are you!” George cried. “I will tell you about her,” said a voice. George turned and looked and saw a little green alien. “Tell me!” said George. The little green alien began:
“Ich will euch etwas erzählen. Ich sah zwei gebratene Hühner fliegen, flogen schnell und hatten die Bäuche gen Himmel gekehrt, die Rücken nach der Hölle, und ein Amboß un ein Mühlstein schwammen über den Rhein, fein langsam und leise, und ein Frosch saß und fraß eine Pflugschar zu Pfingsten auf dem Eis. Da waren drei Kerle, wollten einen Hasen fangen, gingen auf Krücken und Stelzen, der eine war taub, der zweite blind, der dritte stumm und der vierte konnte keinen Fuß rühren. Wollt ihr wissen, wie das geschah? Der Blinde, der sah zuerst den Hasen über Feld traben, der Stumme rief dem Lahmen zu, und der Lahme faßte ihn beim Kragen. Etliche, die wollten zu Land segeln und spannten die Segel im Wind und schifften über große Äcker hin: da segelten sie über einen hohen Berg, da mußten sie elendig ersaufen. Ein Krebs jagte einen Hasen in die Flucht, und hoch auf dem Dach lag eine Kuh, die war hinaufgestiegen. In dem Lande sind die Fliegen so groß als hier die Ziegen.”
“Lügen!” cried George, and he pulled out his sword and slew the little green alien on the spot.]
“Who will tell me about her?” asked George. “I will,” said a wise old man named Gerontius Senex. “She is a Byzantine princess named Blodwyn, and the her father and an evil tyrant king wants to marry her to a man of wealth. With a sweater like that, you don’t stand a chance.” “What!” said George. “This is my best sweater!” (He was wearing the one that’s gray on top, green on bottom, and has three rows of diamonds and one of zigzags in between.) “Sorry,” said Gerontius Senex. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” “Then I shall have to see the king!” said George. Gerontius Senex pointed. George looked where he was pointing and saw a castle with walls that rose straight up to the sky. He walked in.
“Your Majesty, I have a squeaky haggis and I would like to marry your daughter,” said George. “Marry my daughter!” said the king. “You’re but a peasant with an ugly sweater! You can’t marry my daughter, even if you have a squeaky haggis! Leave my presence.” George came back the next day. “Your Majesty, I have a squeaky haggis and I would like to marry your daughter,” he said. “Leave my presence!” said the king. George came back day after day until finally the king said “You can marry my daughter if you can accomplish what I’m about to whisper in my servant’s ear.” The king leaned over and whispered something into his servant’s ear. “If you finish before I am done with dinner, you can marry my daughter.”
George left the castle. Knowing there was no way he could accomplish the task, he sat under a tree and read Manga online. Some Japanese martial arts tourists walked by, blurting out “Hic! Haec! Hoc!” when they kicked things. George paid them no mind.
Presently, the man who listened to everything in the world walked by. “Hello, George,” he said. “The king wants you to go to the end of the world and get the healing water.” “Frick!” said George. “I can’t do that before dinner!” “I can,” said the man with one leg, who had found his other leg and was carrying it with him. He strapped it on, ran to the other end of the world, got the healing water, but fell asleep by the bank of the river. The man who could shoot a bird at a hundred miles shot him. He woke up, healed himself with the healing water, then ran back to George. Then he remembered that he’d forgotten to bring healing water for George, so he ran back and got some and brought it back to George. “Thank you,” said George. George brought it to the king. “I can’t have a peasant marrying my daughter!” muttered the king. “I have another task for you.” Again he whispered to his servant.
George went outside and sat under the tree. “The king wants you to eat twelve oxen and twelve tons of bread, and drink forty casks of wine with forty gallons each,” said the man who listened to everything. “Frick!” said George. “I can’t do that before dinner! I can’t do that for dinner!” “We can,” said the hungry man and the thirsty man together. “Jinx!” said the hungry man. The thirsty man slapped him. “Go,” said George. They went. They ate. They drank. Or, rather, the hungry man ate and the thirsty man drank. They finished the meal, though the hungry man choked a bit on the bones and the thirsty man was severely hungover the next morning.
Again, George went to the king. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I have a squeaky haggis and I would like to marry your daughter.” “What!” said the king. “I can’t think of any more tasks, so I guess I’ll have to let you. But first we’re going to burn that ugly sweater of yours.” “No!” cried George, but the servants tore the sweater off him. They were about to light it on fire when the man with a straw that made everything cold put the fire out. The tailor hastily sewed the ugly sweater back together. (The tailor even fixed the holes under the arms with the magic needle, and the sweater almost looked nice.) The king sent an army in to destroy George and burn the sweater, but George hastily slapped his trusty knapsack and turned his hat a couple times, and the king’s army surrendered.
“I can’t have a peasant with an ugly sweater marry my daughter!” said the king, “even if the sweater almost looks nice now.” He turned his daughter into a flower and sent her out into the garden. She was only allowed to become human again during the night. George could save her only by plucking the right flower. If he plucked the wrong one, she would die.
George spent the night on the ground next to the garden. “Blodwyn, Blodwyn!” he murmured. “Here I am,” she called, and there before him stood the princess he had seen at the mystic seaport, only this time, she was much closer much more beautiful. Her red hair flowed from her head to her waist and her eyes shone green like the sea after a storm. Her skin was pale and she stood at about 5'8". She wore a beautiful green dress and a funny Russian hat that matched George’s exactly, except for its magical destructive powers. The two sat in the garden under the moonlight, and when Blodwyn began to get cold, George gave her his almost nice-looking sweater to wear. She was even more beautiful with the sweater on, George thought. A breeze ran its misty fingers through their hair, and George shivered. Blodwyn did not shiver because she was wearing the gray and green sweater, and George was pleased.
At sunrise, Blodwyn vanished and again became a flower. George picked up his sweater and looked at the garden: there were three flowers of exquisite beauty, all three identical in height, color, and shape. “Blodwyn, Blodwyn!” George whispered, knowing one of them was her. None of the flowers responded. George studied the flowers, and finally he knew which was Blodwyn. He plucked it, and instantly the flower was transformed into the beautiful Blodwyn. “How did you know it was me?” she asked. “Dew fell on the other flowers during the night, but since you were up all night, there wasn’t any dew on you,” he said, and kissed her.
Chapter Four
The Wedding and Some of the Events that Occurred Thereafter
George and Blodwyn were married the next day. George wore the gray and green sweater and a pair of red and green striped stockings. Blodwyn wore her beautiful dress. The perfectly normal person presided. (He had turned out to be an Orthodox bishop.) Afterwards, George pulled out his tablecloth and there was a great feast of Oreo and French fry pizza. George and Blodwyn lived happily ever after and had lots of grandchildren.
The end.
Chapter One
How George the Viking Conquered England
Once upon a time there was a Viking farmer who had three Viking sons: Alexandros, Pip, and George. The farmer grew old and died, leaving only his tiny hut as inheritance, so the three sons set out to try their luck.
One day they came to a hill of silver. “This is all I need,” said Alexandros, and he filled his bags and pockets with as much silver as he could carry and returned home. Pip and George continued on in hopes of something better further on.
Later they came to a hill of gold. “This is all I need,” said Pip, and he filled his bags and pockets with as much gold as he could carry and returned home. George continued journeying.
George walked into a great forest that seemed to have no end. He climbed the tallest tree and looked around and all he could see were treetops, stretched for miles in every direction. “Frick!” said George. Wondering where he would stay the night, he exclaimed “what I wouldn’t give for Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos!” He climbed down the tree and there on the ground was a tablecloth with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos. Without asking where the meal came from, George ate to his heart’s content. When he was finished, he picked up the tablecloth and took it with him.
He journeyed further into the woods and he came upon a charcoal burner. “Good day,” George said to the charcoal burner. “Potatoes for supper again?” “Yes,” said the charcoal burner, “and though it isn’t much, you may be my guest for supper.” “Thank you,” said George, “but I’ll be treating you to supper tonight.” The charcoal burner couldn’t see how George could fit a supper into his pockets, but George pulled out the tablecloth and laid it on the ground. “Tablecloth, set yourself!” George commanded, and the tablecloth was immediately filled with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos.
When George and the charcoal burner had eaten their fill, the charcoal burner said “what I wouldn’t give for a tablecloth like that! I have a knapsack in my hut that has magic powers, and I’ll trade it to you for the tablecloth.” “First,” said George, “I’ll have to know what those magic powers are.” “When you slap the knapsack, a corporal and six soldiers appear, armed to the teeth, and ready to do whatever you command.” “A fine trade,” said George. He took the knapsack and left the tablecloth with the charcoal burner.
George walked further into the woods. “Let’s see if this knapsack really works!” he said. He slapped the knapsack and there appeared seven men, armed to the teeth, just as the charcoal burner had said. “Go back to the charcoal burner and demand that he give my tablecloth back,” George orderedthem. They soon returned with the tablecloth: they hadn’t asked the charcoal burner; they’d just taken it. George dismissed them and continued on.
Soon he came upon another charcoal burner. “All I have is two potatoes,” the charcoal burner said, “but you are welcome to share them.” “Thank you,” said George, “but I’ll be treating you to supper tonight.” The charcoal burner couldn’t see how George could fit a supper into his pockets, but George pulled out the tablecloth and laid it on the ground. “Tablecloth, set yourself!” George commanded, and the tablecloth was immediately filled with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos.
After George and the charcoal burner had eaten their fill, the charcoal burner said “I have a hat in my hut, and this hat has magic powers. If you put it on and give it one-quarter turn, a battery of guns begins firing. I’d be happy to trade it to you for the tablecloth.” Once again George made the trade, and once again he slapped the knapsack and sent the soldiers back to regain the tablecloth.
George continued walking and saw a third charcoal burner. “You are welcome to be my guest tonight,” said the charcoal burner, “if you don’t mind potatoes.” “Thank you,” said George, “but I’ll be treating you to supper tonight.” The charcoal burner couldn’t see how George could fit a supper into his pockets, but George pulled out the tablecloth and laid it on the ground. “Tablecloth, set yourself!” George commanded, and the tablecloth was immediately filled with the most exquisite Chinese takeout and double-stuf Oreos.
George and the charcoal burner finished eating, and the charcoal burner said “I have a horn in my hut that has magic powers. When you blow the horn, the earth shakes and buildings tumble so that not one stone is left lying on another stone. I’ll gladly trade it for your tablecloth.” “A fine trade!” exclaimed George, who made the trade and promptly sent the soldiers back to retrieve the tablecloth.
“I have a magic knapsack, a magic hat, and a magic horn, not to mention a magic tablecloth,” said George. “I’ll go home and see how my brothers are doing.” He went home and found his brothers living in style in a mansion with gold, silver, and lots of fancy electronics. When his brothers opened the door and saw him in an ugly sweater and green pants, they laughed at him. “You can’t be our brother!” they said. “Our brother passed up silver and gold for better luck! He wouldn’t come in an ugly sweater and green pants!” They slammed the door in his face.
George slapped the knapsack several times until he had whipped up a good-sized army, then he ordered the soldiers to harass his brothers. The king sent his army to counter them, but George slapped his knapsack several more times and whipped up an even larger army. The king sent reinforcements, but they accomplished even less. George demanded to marry the king’s daughter, and the king had no choice but to let him. The princess was highly disappointed to marry George, and George was highly disappointed to find out that she was an ugly Puritan named Buttercup.
They were married nonetheless, but Buttercup was determined to kill George. She took off her ugly Puritanical bonnet and her ugly Puritanical dress and asked George to get rid of his ugly knapsack. “I won’t,” said George. “Why not?” Buttercup asked. “It’s embarrassing to me. It’s ugly.” George suddenly found her beautiful, or at least passable, or anyway, as good as an ugly Puritanical lady named Buttercup was going to get. “My knapsack is my source of power,” he said. “Every time I slap it, a corporal and six soldiers appear, armed to the teeth, ready do my bidding.” “Oh, George!” said Buttercup. She threw her arms around him as if to kiss him, but deftly slipped the knapsack off his shoulders and ran away. She slapped it once and ordered the soldiers to escort George out of the palace. They forced George off the property and obtained a restraining order, but as soon as George’s hands were free, he turned his hat and the battery of guns began firing. The king and his daughter had to let George back into the palace.
Buttercup was still determined to kill George, so again she took off her ugly Puritanical bonnet and her ugly Puritanical dress and asked George what was the source of his power. “It’s my hat,” said George, again finding her suddenly beautiful. “When I turn it, a battery of guns begins to fire.” Buttercup threw her arms around him as if to kiss him, but she slipped the hat off his head and ran away. Again she had George escorted off the premises. George blew his horn over and over again and the castle tumbled down and his brothers’ mansion tumbled down. Not a single stone was left on another stone, and his brothers, the king, and the king’s daughter were killed. George retrieved the knapsack and the hat and got to be king over the whole country.
Chapter Two
How George the Viking Discovered New Lands and Went to Russia
Soon George the Viking became bored of England, so he picked up the knapsack, the hat, and the horn, and, not forgetting the tablecloth, set sail for Russia. George was a clever man and thought to get east by going west. On his way to Russia, he accidentally bumped into Canada, a land which no one had ever seen before. In Canada there lived mythological creatures like elves, dwarves, and meteors. George was deftly navigating his way between the islands of northern Canada when the water froze over, trapping his ship. He slapped the knapsack with his frozen hands and the soldiers appeared. “We’re army men, not navy men,” said the corporal. “Don’t ask us what to do with a ship.” George dismissed them. He was at his wit’s end, not knowing what to do, when suddenly there appeared a draagyn. George whipped out his sword, ready to slay the draagyn. “Wait!” the draagyn cried. “I’m not a dragon! I’m a draagyn, which is very closely related to the dragon, but we’re not the same thing. Draagyns are good; dragons are evil. Don’t slay me!” “Frick!” said George. “I was hoping there was a beautiful princess to rescue!” “No,” said the draagyn, “but there is one in Russia.” “Oh, good,” said George. “I was on my way to Russia. But then I got stuck in the ice and now I’m not sure what to do.” “I will help you if you promise to offer a ride to anyone who asks for one,” said the draagyn. George promised, and the ship sprouted wings and flew off in the general direction of Russia.
Soon, George heard a voice and stopped the boat. “I’m listening to everything in the world, but I need a ride to Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George. The man who listened to everything in the world climbed aboard the boat. Later, George heard a voice. “I unstrapped one of my legs so that I wouldn’t reach the end of the world in one bound, but I left the leg in Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George. The man with one leg climbed aboard. Again, George heard another voice. “I can shoot a bird at a hundred miles, and I did, but it’s in Russia, and I need a ride to pick it up.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George. The man who could shoot a bird at a hundred miles climbed aboard. “I need a great basket of bread for breakfast,” said another voice, and yet another said “I could drink a whole lake and still be thirsty.” “I’ll give you a ride to Russia if you’d like,” said George. “I’ve never been to Russia,” said the hungry man. “Neither have I,” said the thirsty man, and the two of them climbed aboard the ship. Another voice said “I have a straw that makes everything cold, and Napoleon’s about to invade, so I need to go to Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George, and the man with a straw that made everything cold climbed aboard. Yet another voice said “I’m a tailor with a magic needle. I’d like to try my luck in Russia.” “I’ll give you a ride,” said George, and the tailor with a magic needle climbed aboard. Still another voice said “I’m a perfectly normal person. Can I come, too?” “Frick!” said George. “Normal people aren’t supposed to show up in fairy tales! But I suppose I must give you a ride. Come aboard, then.” The perfectly normal person climbed aboard the ship as well and gave George a squeaking haggis.
Chapter Three
Why It Was George the Viking’s Fault that the Princess was Turned Into a Flower and How He Saved Her
The ship landed in Russia and everyone got out and scattered. George took the knapsack, the hat, and the horn, and, not forgetting the tablecloth, got into a canoe and followed a river to a mystic seaport in Byzantium. Mist swelled and ebbed about the dock, and a distant chorus chanted “unus … nullus … ullus … solus … unus … nullus … ullus … solus.” “Why is there a seaport on a river?” George wondered, but not for long because he glimpsed a beautiful lady with red hair flowing to her waist, skin the color of snow, and eyes green like the sea after a storm. The mist flowed over her and when it moved again, she was gone.
“Who are you!” George cried. “I will tell you about her,” said a voice. George turned and looked and saw a little green alien. “Tell me!” said George. The little green alien began:
“Ich will euch etwas erzählen. Ich sah zwei gebratene Hühner fliegen, flogen schnell und hatten die Bäuche gen Himmel gekehrt, die Rücken nach der Hölle, und ein Amboß un ein Mühlstein schwammen über den Rhein, fein langsam und leise, und ein Frosch saß und fraß eine Pflugschar zu Pfingsten auf dem Eis. Da waren drei Kerle, wollten einen Hasen fangen, gingen auf Krücken und Stelzen, der eine war taub, der zweite blind, der dritte stumm und der vierte konnte keinen Fuß rühren. Wollt ihr wissen, wie das geschah? Der Blinde, der sah zuerst den Hasen über Feld traben, der Stumme rief dem Lahmen zu, und der Lahme faßte ihn beim Kragen. Etliche, die wollten zu Land segeln und spannten die Segel im Wind und schifften über große Äcker hin: da segelten sie über einen hohen Berg, da mußten sie elendig ersaufen. Ein Krebs jagte einen Hasen in die Flucht, und hoch auf dem Dach lag eine Kuh, die war hinaufgestiegen. In dem Lande sind die Fliegen so groß als hier die Ziegen.”
“Lügen!” cried George, and he pulled out his sword and slew the little green alien on the spot.]
“Who will tell me about her?” asked George. “I will,” said a wise old man named Gerontius Senex. “She is a Byzantine princess named Blodwyn, and the her father and an evil tyrant king wants to marry her to a man of wealth. With a sweater like that, you don’t stand a chance.” “What!” said George. “This is my best sweater!” (He was wearing the one that’s gray on top, green on bottom, and has three rows of diamonds and one of zigzags in between.) “Sorry,” said Gerontius Senex. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” “Then I shall have to see the king!” said George. Gerontius Senex pointed. George looked where he was pointing and saw a castle with walls that rose straight up to the sky. He walked in.
“Your Majesty, I have a squeaky haggis and I would like to marry your daughter,” said George. “Marry my daughter!” said the king. “You’re but a peasant with an ugly sweater! You can’t marry my daughter, even if you have a squeaky haggis! Leave my presence.” George came back the next day. “Your Majesty, I have a squeaky haggis and I would like to marry your daughter,” he said. “Leave my presence!” said the king. George came back day after day until finally the king said “You can marry my daughter if you can accomplish what I’m about to whisper in my servant’s ear.” The king leaned over and whispered something into his servant’s ear. “If you finish before I am done with dinner, you can marry my daughter.”
George left the castle. Knowing there was no way he could accomplish the task, he sat under a tree and read Manga online. Some Japanese martial arts tourists walked by, blurting out “Hic! Haec! Hoc!” when they kicked things. George paid them no mind.
Presently, the man who listened to everything in the world walked by. “Hello, George,” he said. “The king wants you to go to the end of the world and get the healing water.” “Frick!” said George. “I can’t do that before dinner!” “I can,” said the man with one leg, who had found his other leg and was carrying it with him. He strapped it on, ran to the other end of the world, got the healing water, but fell asleep by the bank of the river. The man who could shoot a bird at a hundred miles shot him. He woke up, healed himself with the healing water, then ran back to George. Then he remembered that he’d forgotten to bring healing water for George, so he ran back and got some and brought it back to George. “Thank you,” said George. George brought it to the king. “I can’t have a peasant marrying my daughter!” muttered the king. “I have another task for you.” Again he whispered to his servant.
George went outside and sat under the tree. “The king wants you to eat twelve oxen and twelve tons of bread, and drink forty casks of wine with forty gallons each,” said the man who listened to everything. “Frick!” said George. “I can’t do that before dinner! I can’t do that for dinner!” “We can,” said the hungry man and the thirsty man together. “Jinx!” said the hungry man. The thirsty man slapped him. “Go,” said George. They went. They ate. They drank. Or, rather, the hungry man ate and the thirsty man drank. They finished the meal, though the hungry man choked a bit on the bones and the thirsty man was severely hungover the next morning.
Again, George went to the king. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I have a squeaky haggis and I would like to marry your daughter.” “What!” said the king. “I can’t think of any more tasks, so I guess I’ll have to let you. But first we’re going to burn that ugly sweater of yours.” “No!” cried George, but the servants tore the sweater off him. They were about to light it on fire when the man with a straw that made everything cold put the fire out. The tailor hastily sewed the ugly sweater back together. (The tailor even fixed the holes under the arms with the magic needle, and the sweater almost looked nice.) The king sent an army in to destroy George and burn the sweater, but George hastily slapped his trusty knapsack and turned his hat a couple times, and the king’s army surrendered.
“I can’t have a peasant with an ugly sweater marry my daughter!” said the king, “even if the sweater almost looks nice now.” He turned his daughter into a flower and sent her out into the garden. She was only allowed to become human again during the night. George could save her only by plucking the right flower. If he plucked the wrong one, she would die.
George spent the night on the ground next to the garden. “Blodwyn, Blodwyn!” he murmured. “Here I am,” she called, and there before him stood the princess he had seen at the mystic seaport, only this time, she was much closer much more beautiful. Her red hair flowed from her head to her waist and her eyes shone green like the sea after a storm. Her skin was pale and she stood at about 5'8". She wore a beautiful green dress and a funny Russian hat that matched George’s exactly, except for its magical destructive powers. The two sat in the garden under the moonlight, and when Blodwyn began to get cold, George gave her his almost nice-looking sweater to wear. She was even more beautiful with the sweater on, George thought. A breeze ran its misty fingers through their hair, and George shivered. Blodwyn did not shiver because she was wearing the gray and green sweater, and George was pleased.
At sunrise, Blodwyn vanished and again became a flower. George picked up his sweater and looked at the garden: there were three flowers of exquisite beauty, all three identical in height, color, and shape. “Blodwyn, Blodwyn!” George whispered, knowing one of them was her. None of the flowers responded. George studied the flowers, and finally he knew which was Blodwyn. He plucked it, and instantly the flower was transformed into the beautiful Blodwyn. “How did you know it was me?” she asked. “Dew fell on the other flowers during the night, but since you were up all night, there wasn’t any dew on you,” he said, and kissed her.
Chapter Four
The Wedding and Some of the Events that Occurred Thereafter
George and Blodwyn were married the next day. George wore the gray and green sweater and a pair of red and green striped stockings. Blodwyn wore her beautiful dress. The perfectly normal person presided. (He had turned out to be an Orthodox bishop.) Afterwards, George pulled out his tablecloth and there was a great feast of Oreo and French fry pizza. George and Blodwyn lived happily ever after and had lots of grandchildren.
The end.
Monday, May 11, 2009
on aging
I plan to be beautiful my whole life.
I don't plan to be 20 my whole life, but I plan to be beautiful my whole life.
I will grow old and get wrinkles and gray hairs and stretch marks, but I'll tell you what, they'll be sexy stretch marks.
When it is my birthday, people will ask if I'm 29 again, and I will say no, I'm 67.
I am a fallen woman, and deep in my heart I doubt. I wonder. I ask: "am I beautiful?"
I won't take my question to the world: they will say "no, you are old and wrinkled, and all beauty is vanity."
I won't take my question to my husband, a fallen man. Some days he will say "yes" honestly. Some days he will conjure this required answer.
I will take my question to God, and he will say "I made you, I created you, I know you better than anyone else. Yes, you are old and wrinkled and beautiful. You are a captivating, beautiful woman, desired and loved. Let me wash you with my blood so you can be seen." And deep in my heart, deeper than my doubt, I will know this is true.
I will empty myself and let Him fill me with His love.
And I will go to my husband and say "Look!" and I will not be ashamed of my wrinkles; I will not be afraid. I will be beautiful, and my husband will see my beauty. He will speak and I will hear Christ's voice: "you are truly beautiful."
I have no beauty that does not come from my Creator. To Him I owe infinitely more than I have or am. I deserve nothing. But "deserve" is irrelevant to love. I am empty and grateful.
I don't plan to be 20 my whole life, but I plan to be beautiful my whole life.
I will grow old and get wrinkles and gray hairs and stretch marks, but I'll tell you what, they'll be sexy stretch marks.
When it is my birthday, people will ask if I'm 29 again, and I will say no, I'm 67.
I am a fallen woman, and deep in my heart I doubt. I wonder. I ask: "am I beautiful?"
I won't take my question to the world: they will say "no, you are old and wrinkled, and all beauty is vanity."
I won't take my question to my husband, a fallen man. Some days he will say "yes" honestly. Some days he will conjure this required answer.
I will take my question to God, and he will say "I made you, I created you, I know you better than anyone else. Yes, you are old and wrinkled and beautiful. You are a captivating, beautiful woman, desired and loved. Let me wash you with my blood so you can be seen." And deep in my heart, deeper than my doubt, I will know this is true.
I will empty myself and let Him fill me with His love.
And I will go to my husband and say "Look!" and I will not be ashamed of my wrinkles; I will not be afraid. I will be beautiful, and my husband will see my beauty. He will speak and I will hear Christ's voice: "you are truly beautiful."
I have no beauty that does not come from my Creator. To Him I owe infinitely more than I have or am. I deserve nothing. But "deserve" is irrelevant to love. I am empty and grateful.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
prayers for finals week
From St. Thomas Aquinas, a noble, dedicated, hardworking student:
Creator of all things,
true source of light and wisdom,
origin of all being,
graciously let a ray of your light penetrate
the darkness of my understanding.
Take from me the double darkness
in which I have been born,
an obscurity of sin and ignorance.
Give me a keen understanding,
a retentive memory, and
the ability to grasp things
correctly and fundamentally.
Grant me the talent
of being exact in my explanations
and the ability to express myself
with thoroughness and charm.
Point out the beginning,
direct the progress,
and help in the completion.
I ask this through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
From St. Joseph of Cupertino, friend of those who don't or can't study:
O Great St. Joseph of Cupertino who while on earth did obtain from God the grace to be asked at your examination only the questions you knew, obtain for me a like favour in the examinations for which I am now preparing. In return I promise to make you known and cause you to be invoked.
Through Christ our Lord.
St. Joseph of Cupertino, Pray for us.
Amen.
Creator of all things,
true source of light and wisdom,
origin of all being,
graciously let a ray of your light penetrate
the darkness of my understanding.
Take from me the double darkness
in which I have been born,
an obscurity of sin and ignorance.
Give me a keen understanding,
a retentive memory, and
the ability to grasp things
correctly and fundamentally.
Grant me the talent
of being exact in my explanations
and the ability to express myself
with thoroughness and charm.
Point out the beginning,
direct the progress,
and help in the completion.
I ask this through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
From St. Joseph of Cupertino, friend of those who don't or can't study:
O Great St. Joseph of Cupertino who while on earth did obtain from God the grace to be asked at your examination only the questions you knew, obtain for me a like favour in the examinations for which I am now preparing. In return I promise to make you known and cause you to be invoked.
Through Christ our Lord.
St. Joseph of Cupertino, Pray for us.
Amen.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
a week and a half
Sr. Mary Ann: "Tonight when you're in the chapel, ask Him how much He loves you."
Jesus: "Do not be afraid of what I will show you tonight, for it will set you free."
Mary: "How much do you love me? My brain knows. Tell my heart."
Dream: I gave [G] a hug and said "Thank you for being such a good friend."
Morning: Swollen jaw, bloody nose.
Afternoon: Plans for health center Monday morning.
Monday-Wednesday: Afraid. Exhausted. [G] takes care of me and doesn't take advantage of my weakness.
Wednesday: Home. Afraid. Collegian.
Mary: "If I fall, will you catch me?"
[G]: "Look to Christ. I can't catch you every time. He can."
Mary: "I know he will always catch me. But he can use your arms, if you let him."
Thursday: Surgery. Sedatives.
Friday: Post-op. Toga. Hugs. Antibiotics.
Weekend: Walk. Speak. Listen. Shoulders touching. Humility. Tears.
Monday: Love. Gaping humility. Decision. Poignant peace.
Tuesday: Coffee shop. Collegian party. Physics lab. Pizza.
Mary: "I think I was mad at you for a long time."
[J]: "Yeah, I think I was mad at you, too."
Tuesday: Forgiveness.
Mary: "Can I tell you how we got the water filter?"
[J]: "I think [G]'s on the straight and narrow."
Wednesday: The head realized what the heart knew all along.
"How much do you love me?" I asked Him. "Tell my heart."
Soul emptied with gaping humility, replete now with love.
I have [G], and my gut is satisfied, not nagging at me anymore. And I got [J] back. And I can love wildly without reservation. Crazy men, strong men, wild men, good men, and my soul overflows with love for them both.
"Tell my heart," I told Him, and He filled me till I overflowed.
Jesus: "Do not be afraid of what I will show you tonight, for it will set you free."
Mary: "How much do you love me? My brain knows. Tell my heart."
Dream: I gave [G] a hug and said "Thank you for being such a good friend."
Morning: Swollen jaw, bloody nose.
Afternoon: Plans for health center Monday morning.
Monday-Wednesday: Afraid. Exhausted. [G] takes care of me and doesn't take advantage of my weakness.
Wednesday: Home. Afraid. Collegian.
Mary: "If I fall, will you catch me?"
[G]: "Look to Christ. I can't catch you every time. He can."
Mary: "I know he will always catch me. But he can use your arms, if you let him."
Thursday: Surgery. Sedatives.
Friday: Post-op. Toga. Hugs. Antibiotics.
Weekend: Walk. Speak. Listen. Shoulders touching. Humility. Tears.
Monday: Love. Gaping humility. Decision. Poignant peace.
Tuesday: Coffee shop. Collegian party. Physics lab. Pizza.
Mary: "I think I was mad at you for a long time."
[J]: "Yeah, I think I was mad at you, too."
Tuesday: Forgiveness.
Mary: "Can I tell you how we got the water filter?"
[J]: "I think [G]'s on the straight and narrow."
Wednesday: The head realized what the heart knew all along.
"How much do you love me?" I asked Him. "Tell my heart."
Soul emptied with gaping humility, replete now with love.
I have [G], and my gut is satisfied, not nagging at me anymore. And I got [J] back. And I can love wildly without reservation. Crazy men, strong men, wild men, good men, and my soul overflows with love for them both.
"Tell my heart," I told Him, and He filled me till I overflowed.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
crazy days
Things I've learned since last weekend (this includes the retreat and the jaw infection):
I have a theory that the most important things I'll learn in college are not academic things. Well look at that. I went to one class all week and look what I learned.
- "How am I going to find you a husband if you're going to spend all your time running away from convents?"
- Do not be afraid! It might not even be scary, and whether it is or not, He is with you always.
- If you cannot love or cannot express your love, ask God how much he loves you and allow him to answer. When you are full of his love, you can overflow onto other people.
- [G] is a really good friend, and I've greatly underestimated his loyalty.
- Your body has plenty of ways other than physical pain to tell you to slow down. Physical, mental and social exhaustion are three of them.
- When everyone else is telling you that you look like a dead rat and you should skip classes and go to sleep, that is not the time to be tough. Sometimes you actually are weak.
- Darby is a really good friend, and I haven't known her long enough to underestimate her (I don't think).
- My antipathy toward pharmaceuticals is rooted in a need for control, and I need to give up that control sometimes. Not do heroin, but just take the dang antibiotics.
- I need to be willing to give up anything if Christ asks. Including friends. The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord! Parents, when they send their children off into the world, give back to God what God has given them. I can do the same with my departing friends. Let them go, and if God wills it, he will give them back to me.
- I can decline agricola and pray multilingually while sedated.
- God's love is like the crazy powerful ocean, and we're all just little Dutch boys with our fingers in the wall, afraid to let him in. Because we know that his love is a crashing, powerful surf that will sweep us off our feet and send us somewhere we don't know. And we'll have to change. But we have to trust him and let his love flood us: otherwise we can't let it overflow into other people.
- If you're afraid, look satan straight in the eye and ask him what, specifically, you're afraid of. He probably won't have an answer. Call on St. Michael and tell satan to f--- off and you'll be fine.
- Play fighting is an expression of love, probably because we're all afraid to tell someone directly how much we love them.
- I might not have had as much pride as I'd thought resting on that prank. Maybe it was an elaborate expression of love. And maybe it was my heart, not my pride, that was angry when the whole thing was ignored.
- "Mary, I see how you work. You're more complex than that. You're not that simple."
- Everyone is shy. Everyone is afraid. No one knows what it's like to be the bad man behind blue eyes, but we all know what it's like. The only remedy is Christ's love.
- It all hinges on love. Everything.
- [G] is a much stronger, more mature man than I gave him credit for.
- We are all called to holiness, but we aren't all called to famous holiness.
- Empty antibiotic capsules are fun to play with.
- There are real deer, deer that run away from you when you're on the other side of the field, in Hillsdale County.
- Christ has no body now but yours, and when I fall, he can use your arms to catch me if you let him. And if he is giving me your arms, I should let him.
- "Why are you running away from men? You are running away from me."
- Any love I give anyone is merely His love. I am a pitcher of water. If I let him fill me up, then I will overflow and spill onto everyone else. I can't love on my own, but I can be a window showing His love. Let my soul magnify the Lord!
- Other people are windows, too, and I need to let them love me.
- It's all about love. Everything.
I have a theory that the most important things I'll learn in college are not academic things. Well look at that. I went to one class all week and look what I learned.
Friday, April 17, 2009
eithe, ei gar (yap)
I wish I wasn't afraid to tell people how much I love them.
I guess I just expect people to know. And when they say something funny I'll say "I love you" but that really only means "you just made me laugh." It's an outlet, though. It's like poking a hole in the wall around my heart, letting some of the water out but not letting all of it flow. But the little Holland boy comes running.
Sometimes I see you leave the table and I want to run over and hug you, but I don't because you'll get annoyed and won't hug me back.
Sometimes you ask why I want to walk with you and I want to say because I love you and I want to spend time with you, but I don't because you will run away.
Sometimes I ask "how are you?" and all you say is "fine" because you have no idea how badly I want to know.
Sometimes we're leaving and I hug you but not as close as I want to. And I don't know why. I'm afraid.
I don't love you for what you do. I don't love you because you listen to me or make hats for me or throw me to the ground or believe in God or enjoy Latin or make jokes or help me with chemistry. I love you because you are made in the image and likeness of God, because you are good and nothing can change that.
But I'm afraid to tell you. All of you.
I'm afraid because somewhere inside me I know that I love some people more than others and I know I ought to love everyone equally. And if I tell you how much I love you, you'll know the extent of my love. And it's nowhere near where it should be.
I'm afraid because my actions won't follow through. I can, for the most part, make my actions follow through with how much I say I love you. But I'm not strong enough to love consistently. If I say I love you twice as much, my actions ought to reflect that, but I know they won't.
I LOVE YOU.
I guess I just expect people to know. And when they say something funny I'll say "I love you" but that really only means "you just made me laugh." It's an outlet, though. It's like poking a hole in the wall around my heart, letting some of the water out but not letting all of it flow. But the little Holland boy comes running.
Sometimes I see you leave the table and I want to run over and hug you, but I don't because you'll get annoyed and won't hug me back.
Sometimes you ask why I want to walk with you and I want to say because I love you and I want to spend time with you, but I don't because you will run away.
Sometimes I ask "how are you?" and all you say is "fine" because you have no idea how badly I want to know.
Sometimes we're leaving and I hug you but not as close as I want to. And I don't know why. I'm afraid.
I don't love you for what you do. I don't love you because you listen to me or make hats for me or throw me to the ground or believe in God or enjoy Latin or make jokes or help me with chemistry. I love you because you are made in the image and likeness of God, because you are good and nothing can change that.
But I'm afraid to tell you. All of you.
I'm afraid because somewhere inside me I know that I love some people more than others and I know I ought to love everyone equally. And if I tell you how much I love you, you'll know the extent of my love. And it's nowhere near where it should be.
I'm afraid because my actions won't follow through. I can, for the most part, make my actions follow through with how much I say I love you. But I'm not strong enough to love consistently. If I say I love you twice as much, my actions ought to reflect that, but I know they won't.
I LOVE YOU.
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