I truly do believe that if people stopped themselves more often, and decided over and over again, as many times as they needed to, to honestly go about being themselves to the best of their abilities, that this world would be a more compassionate place. Maybe this is naïve. Maybe my battles with humanity should be aimed at getting people to be better, to strive for some ideal, maybe there is something fundamentally wrong with us we need to correct. I might be more successful reminding people to act more lovingly, more responsibly, with more solidarity or courage. I don't think that the fact that we lack these things is because we don't have them, I think we aren't true to them. I prefer to make war against ignorance. Self-ignorance, and voluntary ignorance. The worst crime is mediocrity. The worst failure is fake.

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I have been reading Plato, Oscar Wilde (The Importance of Being Earnest), Shakespeare (Twelfth Night) and Jorge Luis Borges, listening to Josh Ritter, "Bob Dylan", Vico C, Cat Stevens and Stars, in case anyone wishes to attempt a trace of why I am thinking about this right now.

We read a short story called "The excavation" by Augusto Roa Bastos in Spanish Lit today. The lifespan of humanity is equated with digging an escape tunel, the end of which we never find, until we die. The protagonist is escaping a jail, he is a political prisoner during the paraguayan civil war in the late 40's. I think in every story we have read in this class so far, except one, the protagonist dies at the end. No wonder Latin American literature carries such heavy connotations to me: they deal with heavy subject matter! My prof is really sweet, you should see him get excited, explaining the end of the story. His whole demeanor lights up, and he bounces in his chair.

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spray paint, such a uniting activity. music, too. undercover operations. secret conversations. two flags curtain us off from the view. houseplant is looking a little droopy. how much time needed to BS a geography lab? defrost a bagel? the profound and the frivolous, the shallow... the strong sense of self. the sacrifice. what an undeserving thing you are.

i saw a beautiful man that kissed me on all my a thousand cheeks, and i knew then that i’d know him forever and ever -zulu poet

Ecuadorian minister dies in air crash

Guadalupe Larriva, the Ecuadorean defence minister, has been killed in a helicopter collision in the Pacific port city of Manta.

Monica Chuji, a government spokeswoman, said: "We can confirm the death of the minister, of one of her children and two pilots in the crash of two helicopters."

According to local media reports, the two Ecuadorean military helicopters crashed in mid-air at about 9pm on Wednesday (02:00GMT Thursday). Rafael Correa, the president, was flying from the southern port city of Guayaquil to the scene of the crash.

Larriva took office on January 15 after being named Ecuador's first woman defence minister by Correa, the newly inaugurated president.

Correa appointed seven women to his cabinet, saying he wanted to promote gender equality in his country. Larriva was a university professor and leader of the country's small Socialist party.

She had promised to strengthen presidential control of military ranks, improve salaries for the armed forces and make the promotions system more transparent in a country where the military has helped to remove three presidents in 10 years.

Correa asked the country to "pray for the soul of Guadalupe, her daughter, her family and the government of Ecuador".

Source: Al Jazeera English Edition

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I can't believe this. I will wait until the independent investigations from Chile and France reach their conclusions, but it all seems too much. There was a lot of anger when she was chosen as Defense minister: she was the first civilian ever to occupy that position, and a woman to boot. This is really bad.

Bethany and sister

I saw my dear Katie this weekend. Of course, her compulsion to leave indiscreet comments on my blog following this encounter must be some horrible lapse of judgment caused by the shock of saying goodbye once more.

I am pretty behind on school work, after taking off for the weekend, also. How does that make any sense. I took my laptop and work with me, filled with good intentions...

I went to church this morning. I had some thoughts. My thoughts are growing less and less share-worthy. Neglecting all airs and appearances I could put on, I just don't get it anymore. Why is church this way? Why am I this way? Where is the lie, because it is somewhere, inside of me, or is it just everywhere. There is a lie floating around, I swear it, and once I can put my finger on it, there will be no more believing it.

Garrett Mason - Diddly Diddly Daddy

This is the guy

Mac help

Some small questions I couldn't figure out, even with Mac Help:

-How do I install fonts again? I downloaded them, clicked the little "Install" bubble on the font file when I open it, but it doesn't appear automatically in my Font window when I open Pages. I am missing a step there. In fact, I only have about 15 fonts for use in Pages, but about 50 installed if I open FontBook. Confusing.

-Copying a non-music Cd. Is there a proram I can use? iTunes is fine for music CD's, but making a straight copy of a CD or DVD seems quite the procedure.



<---also, I now have skype...for those interested. groundhog593

the last day

hey kate, sorry i couldn't make it for the mock funeral. today and tomorrow will be full of thought as it is.

The photo is my dad...he was washing dishes with Daniel out at the well, because the running water ran out. This was the teachers Christmas dinner at the camp, 2006. Daniel will be taking over camp operations, and many other things, now that my parents are leaving. He's just one of the people, who will be taking on the many jobs and responsibilities that have undergone delegation. Daniel, Rolando, Franklin, Amaryllis, Janna, Alex, Freddy, Panchita, Dale, Willian, Ruth, Sandra, and Nikki, soon. Just names to you, perhaps, but after 14 years, this is what has been constructed. People, a network, part of the greater network perhaps. We're hoping that all works together for a purpose, now that things have been stitched together to account for us leaving.

I pray for these people that remain. I pray for safe travels tomorrow for my family. I pray for us, my sister and I, that this means something deep right now and that it leads to something real.

electric blues

Garrett Mason show last night (winner of the 2005 Juno for Blues Album).It is quite the experience, I would recommend it to anyone. I went with Chelsey and Clayton and all my new friends, through the freezing freezing night to an out-of-town biker-bar-type joint called George's Roadhouse. Yes, they do still exist. The crowd was the most non-university age group of people I have seen since I went to the Anglican church.

Lots of white people trying to dance. The music was electric blues...and by electric, I mean it was a current that went through you and got your feet tapping...it was Chuck Berry, it was 50's, 60's and it was new, it was GOOD. It was filled with innovation. His fingers could bring anything out of a guitar...they were all over the place, they were active. It was a very enjoyable show.

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The oil in our furnace ran out. We haven't had heat for 24 hours. We're baking cookies and sitting with laptops on our laps, in ponchos and blankets, doing anything we can think of to bump the temperatures. Toes are pretty frozen. The Mac trackpad doesn't work if I'm wearing mittens...damn.

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Saw my future fold out before me. dreamt of darkness, felt for roads leading out. got bogged down in technocrap. moved on.

i feel swirled in a world of foreign. all of a sudden, new things are taken for granted, old faces forbidden, things misunderstood. but all is happening is learning.

in vs. out

first snow I've seen fell today. it was very wet. that is the view inside my room and the view outside my room. i still haven't exactly unpacked yet...or maybe its just the usual mess, i can't tell. its a bit of both. outside, everything is really wet, because the temperatures aren't extreme enough yet for the snow to be permanent. I'm learning how to walk on ice and slush again. My English notes from my first class have disappeared because the ink was water soluble and the water solubled in to the backpack.

Request

Can someone email me "Brown Eyed Girl"? I'm trying to learn it on the Mandolin, and I have it on my computer back at home, but not here.

UPDATED ADDRESS

Ok, the "Unit" number down below is now different, it is now #866.


Everything else stays the same.

Day 2 here. I had 3 classes this morning, of which I think I will drop 1, Macroeconomics, because he talks really fast and said something about basic mathematic skills and Algebra being used very frequently during the class...scared me right away. Maybe in some other situation, I will brave learning something that is possibly difficult for me...but not this semester. Not today. The temperatures are wacked, 12 Celsius ABOVE zero...in Canada, in January!

The classes I decided to keep for today were Intro to Human Geography (no tests, and a cool prof) and Plato's Republic (I've always wanted to read it).

New Me

Bethany Horne 152 Main Street Unit 866 Sackville NB E4L 1B3 Canada Phone number, as of tomorrow...(506) 364-8112 I'll be taking this info down off the internet in a couple days or so, so get it while you can. Its friggin cold here. But its life, waiting to happen. Its the starting line, everyone around me is revving, and I want to crawl into a corner and think until the sadness goes away, but the race is going to start and there is no time for me. No time for moping. I'm sad, yes, I'm scared, yes. But I'm ready. Please, let it ok for me to be sad for a bit.

from Bishop Lancelot Andrews:

Blot out the number of my crimes, renew the multitude of thy tender mercies. However unclean, Thou canst cleanse me; however blind, Thou canst enlighten me; however weak, Thou canst restore me; yea,though dead, Thou canst raise me. I commend to thee,O Lord, my soul,and my body,my mind,and my thoughts, my prayers,and my vows,my senses, and my members, my words and my works, my life and my death. I commend to Thee, O Lord,my impulses,my resolves,and my attempts, my going out and my coming in,my sitting down, and my rising up. Grant to me light sleep, rid me of all imaginations freshly and satanical.Yea, O Lord, nor let me in my dreams imagine things that will anger thee, or defile me. Visit me with your own visitation, reveal to me wisdom in the visions of the night. O Father of mercy, despise not an unclean worn such as I. O Lord look on me with those same eyes wherewith Thine did look on Mary Magdalene in the banquet, Peter in the hall, and the thief on the cross. So that I may confess with the thief, weep with Peter, and love as Mary Magdalene loved you.