Silent night, holy night...

- Traditional Christmas carol

This post isn't really about Christmas, but I've started up my carol practising with my sister. We're planning on a Silent Night piano duet this year.... we've been practising for a while because neither of us are really great piano players. (She's better than me, but whatever, let's not get into it.)

Actually, I had a funny little anecdote about Halloween, and since it's Halloween, I thought I'd write it today. Also, I just want to say that I don't really do Halloween. I've never done it, I don't dress up, I've never gone out for candy, and I honestly don't really care. I think one time I was a "rockstar" because Gina told people I was... Plus, I wear a cool leather jacket.

Anyway, back to my story... But first a picture, to illustrate to you what the rosebush in our front our house looks like. The roses looks great in full bloom, but by October, it's pretty much survival of the fittest. A few are still blooming as you can see, but the rest of it is just all tall, straggly, thorny stems that are literally taller than I am.

So anyway, I wanted to plant some curly sue tulips this fall, hoping against all hope that they would actually bloom in the spring. But then there were these ugly, half-eaten hostas in the garden, so my mom was all like, "Dig up the hostas, and put your bulbs there."


So out I go to dig away at those icky, leafy plants (I've never liked hostas), but on this side of the garden, as you can see, there were some lethal rose bush stems in my way. In my way. I wanted to tie them back, and the only string I could find anywhere in the house was this neon pink stuff that I had to (very carefully) wrap around the stems and through the trelis behind it.

Needless to say, it wasn't pleasant. I really don't like sharp things. But as they say in Italy, "Non c'è roza senza spine."

Okay, so I dug up the stupid plants, but I didn't get enough time that day to actually plant my bulbs. But then it was rainy and too cold the next couple days, and I kinda just left that pink string there, so I wouldn't have to redo it when I was ready to plant things.

I finally did get around to planting the bulbs. And then my dad told me that he saw a group of little kids come right up to our house the other day. They kind of just stood there and stared at our "decorations" probably trying to figure out what exactly it was. (Oh, if only they knew...) In case you're wondering what this must have looked like through their eyes...

"What do you think it is?"
"Obviously someone being hanged."
"In neon pink?"
"A dead fashionista, probably."
"Creepy."

Add that to the creepy dead greenery, and you got yourselves some accidental Halloween decorations, sure to please and confound the common kindergartener.



Anyway... be safe out there kids. Some people are creeps. And some people are just lazy, and don't take the random string off their rosebushes or clean up their dead plants.

...

It did eventually all get clean up, in case you were wondering.


All is calm, all is bright.

Now you feel like number one, shining bright for everyone

- Number One (Ichigo's Theme), from "Bleach"

As you may have guessed it, today's blog will be about Tite Kubo's insanely epic anime "Bleach." I would like to start off with a WARNING: please do not watch this show unless you really have the time to invest in it. I watched like 200+ episodes on animefreaktv before making myself stop. Even though I've watched so much of it, this is in no way a review. It's really just my thoughts so far.

For one thing... wow. This show is great. I actually love it a lot. To be honest, I was really just going to watch a couple episodes, because I remember my fiancé mentioning it and I thought, "Yeah, maybe I'll see what it's like and I'll impress him with my knowledge of it, YAY!!" (There, the truth comes out. If he sees this, he'll probably think, "But now she likes Ichigo better than me!") The truth is that the more I watch anime, the more I come to love it. And really, there's so much to like about it, especially Bleach.

Writers like Tite Kubo write in such a way that you immediately become attached to the strong yet flawed protagonists because they are fascinating. I mean, really fascinating. Take Ichigo for example. He's a regular 15-year-old kid, with super-strong spirit power and the ability to detect other spiritual pressures. He gets excited too easily, and his strength sometimes seems to grow in direct proportion to his ego. He's the hero of the story because he's an ordinary guy with extraordinary powers.

Ichigo meets a soul reaper named Rukia, and from the beginning they have a sort of Elizabeth-Mr. Darcy relationship that goes on forever... and ever... and ever. But anyway, through a strange series of events, Rukia is forced to transfer her powers to Ichigo. Thus begins a totally ridiculous and absolutely wonderful adventure. Ichigo becomes a soul reaper and starts having these epic battles and get more and more powerful, and meets bigger and badder villains.

And the whole time, the only thing you want to know is whether or not Ichigo and Rukia will ever admit their love for each other.

Of course, he's fifteen and she's like over a thousand years old. But then... love knows know bound. Unfortunately, Bleach is a boy show, which means we'll probably never see them together. Ever. Although, there are currently 344 episodes. Maybe if I watch more, it'll happen. Yeah, that seems like a good reason to go back to my addiction :D

Not gonna happen...

Update October 26:

This show is about a bunch of manly men being the manliest they can be, conquering the biggest, baddest villains in the land through the use of their enormous egos and large... swords. If you ever want to know who's going to win a fight, you have to watch at least ten episodes (and maybe one filler stuck in there somewhere.)

Update #2 October 26:

And girls with boobs. (As opposed to the kind without...)

Update #3 October 26:

It has pretty good voice acting too. I actually really like the guy who does Ichigo. (In English, of course. I can't really tell what good voice acting is in Japanese...)

Living out your fantasy, the brightest star you've ever seen.

Working hard to get my fill

- Journey

A few thoughts about my job...

- I work at a library. Whenever I sneeze and a customer makes a comment about possibly having a cold or something, I just tell them I'm allergic to books.

- I've been working here for about a year and a half. I have one co-worker who's the type of person to always so your name when he talks to you, one of those really polite things. It's like how I always try to maintain eye contact with people to show respect. Anyway, for the last week, this co-worker has been calling me by the wrong name... in fact, he's been calling me by another co-worker's name that happens to start with an N. He's never had a problem with my name before, and I thought it was just a fluke the first time he did it a couple days ago. Now it's just too awkward to correct him. Today he did it in front of my circ partner, and she and I had a good laugh over it after he walked away. I have a feeling that if I work another branch for a bit and come back, he'll say the right name.

- I wear a nametag. Did I mention that? And sometimes I go home with it still on, and I'll sit with my family for the longest time before anyone mentions it...

- I am sick and tired of hearing the whole "I can't believe you charge us overdue fines. I pay your wages you know" thing. I put up with it for a while when I first started there. But now I've grown bold enough to humbly point out that I pay both taxes and fines.

- I love books. WAYYYYY too much. Like... I see books and I just have to have them. Anyway, I am a book lover, and I love taking walks... *sniff* I'm sorry, I'm thinking about books again. I just want to have them in a basket and in my bed... And all over my floor. Sorry, I'm getting emotional... I think about how many don't have a home and how I should have them. I just love books!!

- I'm pretty sure I could get drunk off the amount of hand sanitizer I use at work. I hate to say I'm a germophobe, but like... do you even know how many people touch the stuff that's in the library? Let me tell you... it's a lot.

- Today, someone told me that I was his favourite because I remember him and because once he forgot his card and I let him take out books because he knew his card number. I'll be honest... Yes, I do let people take out books if they know their card number. Because, really, that's the important part, right?

- See? I told you I really love books.















Yes, that is a shelf just for bibles and dictionaries.

- Pages are the backbone. Do not mess with the pages. Do not under-schedule them. Do not, for any reason, make them not want to do their job well. Because you really really need them to do their job well.

That is all for now. I'm sure there will be a part two, at some point. Maybe even a part three. I think a lot about my job (and of my job), so I have a lot of random things to say.

Everybody wants a thrill.

The shadow of your smile when you are gone...

- From "The Sandpiper"

Two weeks ago today, a very wonderful woman died. Her name was Maria and she was a mother, a grandmother and great-grandmother. She was my grandmother. I didn't exactly see her "breathe her last," but I did see her not take in another breath. I was with my mom (her daughter) and one of my sisters. She'd been breathing really slowly, like that was all her body could handle. Like breathing was the one last thing she could do. Every time she exhaled, I'd watch and wait for what seemed like forever to see her finally breathe in a quick, shallow breath. It was around 2am, and we weren't even really paying attention, but somehow the three of us all seemed to turn at the same time to watch her. And watch her. And watch her.

Finally, she stopped inhaling. Her breathing stopped, her heartbeat stopped. Everything. She just stopped living.

When I started making the rounds to my friends about telling them that Grandma had died, I thought about how they would react. Would they feel sympathetic? Of course they would. My friends care for me as I do for them, and of course they would feel bad for me. But did they know why they felt sad for me?

It occurred to me that many people don't give a second thought when an old person dies. I mean, they're old, and they won't live forever, right? So, it's not exactly a big shocker. But for me... wow. I wasn't shocked, and I'm still not shocked. She had too many things happening with her body, and these last few weeks were obviously just too much for her to handle. But the thing is that... she's just always been there. There was only really a six-year period of my life where she didn't live with my family. She helped raise me along with the rest of my family. She was always, always there.

I knew during these last few years that her health was failing her, that she was just getting worse and worse. I tried to mentally prepare myself for her death without getting all depressed over it. I knew it would happen. I'd get up every morning and go to her room to see if she was still breathing while she slept, or I'd find her already awake and she'd smile and say hello to me, ask me what time it was. I'm ashamed to admit that it scared the crap out of me every time I did this because I didn't want to be the one to find her dead one morning.

And of course, I did find her dead one morning, but at least I knew it was coming and I wasn't alone. But it still hurts like crazy that she's dead. Picking out a coffin felt so surreal. Talking about what would happen with her stuff brought out bitter-sweet memories. Watching her coffin go up in her special tomb next to the grandfather I never knew and listening to my brother sob was too much for me to handle.

Two weeks later, and I still have to remind myself that I don't have to get up and give her breakfast and her pills. I don't have to check on her to see if she's okay, I don't have to bring her something to drink... I don't have to do all those things I resented while she was alive. And now I wish I could have one day back just to sit with her, just to kiss her cheek, to listen to one of her crazy stories from back home. I can't have those things back. I don't ever have to painstakingly explain the time of year to her or answer the same question five times in a row. But I'd give almost anything to do that again.

She was such a part of me, my siblings and everyone who knew her the way she was. She was such a strong woman, so wise, so full of vitality. She certainly could complain about the pain she was in, and yet she still worked so hard. She was amazing and now she's gone. How am I ever supposed to deal with that?

My only consolation is that I know that those who believe in a risen Christ will never truly be affected by death. I know that even though death can take the physical form, can literally take the breath right out of you, it can never take your soul. Never. And I know that my grandmother is alive in Christ. I know she has no pain, no weird memory loss, and that maybe she's with my grandpa, the love of her life, right now.

Ever since my grandma's death, I've been looking at the people I love and thinking about how one day they'll die. I know for a fact now that those people won't live forever. And I may not even see them all die, but they will. This may sound extremely morbid, but at least I have the comfort of knowing that most of my loved ones are also believers. And for those who aren't, well... don't believe I won't try my hardest to convince them to be. Because as much as it hurt to lose my grandma, it would hurt even more to lose someone who isn't a believer.

The day before my grandma died, I came to see her at the hospital and called her name. It was clear her body was shutting down, but her eyes fluttered open very briefly, recognition dawned and she smiled wearily at me. Grandma... I can't wait to see your smile again.

... will colour all my dreams and light the dawn.