An open status letter from the author...

Hello, hope all is well with everyone.

A couple of announcements to explain my delay in posting...

First off, I have at long last added some much-needed links to almost all of the sources I have mentioned here in my posts. I have tried to group them as best as I can, and you can now find these links in the right hand column of this blog.

Secondly, I have also completed some deletions of some troublesome posts and reviews. If you don't like my blog, great...comment once if you want to, and then move on. Intentionally attempting to destroy it is something else entirely. And, yes, you've been reported to the authorities here and elsewhere. Do us all a favour and find yourself a constructive hobby for a change.

Now that I believe I have cleaned up this mess, I am ready to go forward and develop this blog into what I have always wanted and/or imagined it to be. I have several blog ideas 'in the hopper' (so to speak), so come back and interact with me often. I'll be busy the next few days trying to make up for lost time.

Many thanks to those who wrote me about this and enquired about when the blog would be updated again. I appreciate the concern and also the many words of encouragement.

Regards,

The Marquise

Found Treasures

For better or for worse, I am entering a local amateur photography contest. The entry fee is small, and better yet, all of the fees go toward helping local children go to art camps during the summer. It's a shame to think that as a hard-working taxpayer here that locally the school kids nowaday only get about 2 hours of art and/or art exposure a week, and then only through the lower grade (primary) school years. I have no problem with supporting most any summer art camp that will help kids get the enjoyment of art that I have now: I can't even fathom how much I have learned...on my own, mind you, after getting the inspiration in a 3rd grade art class...because I got fascinated as a young child with the great Leonardo da Vinci. In our beloved country's rush desire to 'make sure no child is left behind', I'm so glad we've also decided that the artists can be...starting at age 12. (No wonder there are so many complaints about the status of American artistic culture.) That abandonment (let's call a spade a spade, folks) must be nothing less than heartbreaking for the budding artist who may not have the proper artistic support or funding to keep up their dreams at home. Anything that helps these kids, I say.

Although I must also admit that I'm feeling more than potentially anxious about the level of my work being submitted. I used to love art and did something artistic every day until high school graduation...and just somewhere along the lines of securing a paycheck, I left my own artistic dreams behind. Sure, I've dabbled here and there around the holidays and all, and also with a band for a short period of time...and I like to think I am an expert Christmas shopper and gift-wrapper...but sometimes you need to create art just for the sake of creating it, even if it stinks. I used to paint and sculpt and 'throw' pottery and make jewelry. Now I make ledger sheets and Excel spreadsheets and accounts payable files. No wonder I keep thinking work has to got to mean something more substantive to me than this...and I even like almost all parts of my job.

But I digress, as usual. I found these gems among my files the other night, as I trying to desperately narrow down to two final entry candidates. While I eventually decided with the help of an exceptionally gifted expert friend on my selecttions, (2 from Oz, wouldn't you know LOL), these were taken on my historical trip to Egypt a few years back. Historical in the sense it was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, but also historical in that the last night in Cairo...September 11, 2001...my tour group and I cowered in our hotel rooms and watched small crowds celebrate the day's events outside by burning anything they could find American in a huge bonfire in the street. It was, hands down, the beginning of the scariest week of my life...and I thought I'd seen some massively scary things before and survived. And, unfortunately, even when I see these beautiful pictures even now, that image outside the Sonesta Hotel in Nazr City never, ever goes away.

P.S.: I will be updating and adding some things here over the long holiday weekend. Please forgive me if the blog is temporarily unavailable some times during this period. I've been woefully neglectful of it, and I need to make amends. LOL.

Meeting of the Minds Exchange

In the spirit of "damn, I wish I had known about this before my last trip," I found a great little website that is essentially a 'free' book club. 'Free' in the sense that you 'release' a book of yours 'to the wild' unknown, in a cab, in a taxi, on a plane, in a hotel, etc. There are ways to track where it goes if the finder decides to play along and it sounds like a very interesting way to 'contact' people and also share the love of reading, too. And there are ways to help 'find' any 'released' books, too, so you can get something back in return. Interested book lovers should check out Bookcrossing's site. I so wish I would have known about this prior to my international trips, especially this last one to Australia. (As most people know, the Aussies are a barbie (BBQ) fanatic group and NC is known as a BBQ fanatic state...yet very few citizens of either place know the recipes and goodness of the other. Next trip, I promise...LOL.) And since we live in a society where even our current President admits he reads very few books (explains a lot in some ways, doesn't it?), we need to get all the 'free' and good books out there to the public at large. Stat. If we can't stop Dubya in the office now, we can at least help prevent future Dubyas from occurring.

This flows similar in vein to another very popular website I do know about, www.WheresGeorge.com. WheresGeorge allows US $1 dollar currency holders to stamp and then follow the $1 bills that come into their possession. (Canucks, don't despair: there's a version for your notes, too, and you can link to it from the same site mentioned above.) You can see where previously stamped $1 bills have been prior to arriving in your wallet, can enter your own homestead, and then follow it down the line as hopefully others do the same. I'm not sure if it's a simple, everyday demonstration about capitalism at work or something more frivolous along the lines of the popular comic game of "Where's Waldo?" (Although I suspect the latter, I'd think the former could hold true for some kids just learning about how our economy works.) I'm not sure if this is done in other countries...I only know of the US and Canada so far...but I can't imagine a scenario why not. In fact, as global a society the world is becoming, I would think that would be a great eco-political experiment for younger kids (providing other countries don't have a problem with their currency being defaced and/or recipients could read what was actually on the bills...Egyptian money, for example, is so heavily traded and so dirty, I don't think too many people would even notice any writing, let alone actually be able to read it).

Of course, if neither of these options work for you but you still want to have some 'physical' contact with unknown peoples, you can always sign up for one of those 'camera exchange' logs that tons of chat rooms and online boards have going at any time, either with a group or even by yourself. In that scenario, someone buys a disposable camera that has prepaid developing (with developing envelope), and additionally also buys a small notebook as log and an envelope to send everything to the next recipient. They then take 2-3 pictures, give a brief history in the log, then mail the camera and its final developing envelope to the next person on their exchange list. The next person takes 2-3 pictures, notes the information about them in the log, and mails the whole thing again to the next person on the list. This pattern continues until all the pictures are taken and the last person on the exchange returns the camera for film processing in the developing envelope (and online viewing, so all participants can view), and then also writes up the notes from the notebook as the final captions once the pictures are posted online. (Some groups eliminate the traveling notebook altogether and just wait til the camera is developed, and then each member responsible goes in and captions their own photos...further adding to the final surprise. Both ways work, but it depends on the familiarity of your group photographers involved a bit, too.) It's a bit more work for the first and last users, but it can be fun...especially if your group is diverse and international, or if you go into the project with everyone trying to 'do' a certain 'theme'. I've done this a few times now and have had a blast each time. Works great with kids, too, to do at birthday parties or excursions instead of mailing everywhere...although some kids do it well with their pen pals.

Haw River Festival 2006

Before going off on my Big City Rant the other day, last weekend (13 May) I attended the local Haw River Festival in what has got to be one of the cutest towns in North Carolina, Bynum. Bynum is located between the small towns of Pittsboro and Fearrington Village, and is so small that its general store (still lovingly adorned with a sign that declares "Dry Goods" out front), also doubles as half a dozen other things in town (including the US Post Office) and has very limited hours. (Think Sicily, Alaska, from the TV show "Northern Exposure".) Bynum also has the great distinction of being set upon the shores of the Haw River, and its old abandoned bridge across it actually separates the two 'sides' of town, as it were.

The Haw River Festival, (sponsored by The Haw River Assembly), celebrates this wonderful River and all of the things it brings to the local community, and not just as a water source. The festival featured live entertainment, canoe rides for the kids, food and craft vendors, and a host of environmental groups ranging from local Sierra Club activities to Piedmont Biofuels (biofuel education and production). Festivals such as these can never happen often enough: as that part of the state grows exponentially with people wanting to live in Chatham County but still work in nearby Orange County, the strain on the watershed and the pollution controls is overwhelming. And yet another reported 1000+ homes are coming into this area near Bynum in the very near future. Not to mention that Wal-Mart wants to come in there and open as SuperCenter as well. But let's not get started about that...that's another blog entry entirely and it's already been a rough enough weekend.

Reflections on The Green Sheet Man Republic

By request from a friend, who wanted to see it posted here...a previous day's unpublished entry.
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Back from the multi-city, multi-airport, multi-taxi hell that is modern life these days. And while I miss the hustle and bustle of those cities and bands (great music heard all around from 3 different ones in the last few days), I can say without reservation that I do not miss the taxi rides. I am not a patient nor spend-happy person, and I believe God created the taxi to test my skills at both. And I never win, and further, am never amused.

I also always come back to my little apartment a little more thankful than when I left. It's not that I appreciate life in a smaller environment more, because at times I certainly lament how homogeneous the society is around here, how limited the food and entertainment options are. Compared to what I've seen, we have no traffic, few taxes, decent housing, a fairly literate population base, and relatively little crime. Yet we complain, as all humans do, about all of these and more. We are frivolous and fickle people, and a never satisfied bunch...no wonder we're gluttonous. I am lucky to live in a Southern version of Heaven and I know it; hell, I consider myself lucky to even be alive some days. Yet, I always come back from the Big City somewhat troubled...especially when I see the state of the homeless on our streets. I have returned home this time more melancholy than ever.

The moon, especially when it is shining high up in the sky, is a glorious thing to behold. If you can truly take the time to contemplate how it's been almost 40 years since we landed there, and even more since we used it as a benchmark of American 'success', you understand why navigators and poets and romantics alike (since the beginning of recorded time, really) are forever drawn to its calming aura. And homeless people, too...please don't forget them, as they use it as a guide and inspiration as well. I can say this not only as a person who has worked with the homeless from time to time, but as a veteran of their life, too, as one who lived (luckily) in my truck for a short period a few years back. Here out least, the moon is like a nuturing force: if you could find a place where the cops didn't or rarely patrolled and the moon shone overhead, you thought you had a decent chance to make it to tomorrow. And maybe the next day and the next. And when a truck or the street is your home, 2-3 days in the future is the most you can hope for. That and maybe a shower once in awhile and a hot meal. Basic needs are many, excessive wants are few.

I was lucky in that I had skills and education that gradually helped me find longer and longer term employment, which helped me get enough money together to at least pay for food so I could sleep in a friend's garage. Many did not have such skills nor luck in finding sympathetic friends. (And 'friends' are always willing to take you in for a few days generally, but when they know it may be indefinite and/or without pay, their welcome mats are frequently withdrawn...my experience, anyway.) My case is like many on the American streets: paycheck to paycheck living combined with a medical problem, then the loss of insurance, and then the loss of a paying job. However, of about the 120 or so that I knew locally, I truly believe I was one of the lucky ones. I never developed a substance problem, never prostituted myself, never got arrested, never was abused, and never had children who had to experience that turbulent life with me. And I had my truck, my beloved truck...I am sure it saved my life and my soul from those ravages many times. If I ever got scared or threatened, it was always a home and place of refuge that could cart me away to a safer place. And hopefully a place where I could gaze upon the moon before going to sleep.

So it is with this background that I now march around like 'a regular person' on the streets, with a job, with fairly new clothes, with dedicated friends, with cash and a low-limit credit card in my wallet, and freshly showered. And this week, unfortunately, I was the only one who paid attention to the Man in the Green Sheet. Waiting at a streetlight in the Modern Woman's Hell with Starbucks, Calvin Klein, $400 shoe stores, and countless ads for the next movie blockbusters, there stood a man dressed in a green sheet, unkempt, dirty and clearly starving. As an investment banker-type proudly held his Coach briefcase next to him, Green Sheet Man stood equally proud holding onto his shopping cart filled with newspapers, mud-splattered stuffed animals, and a half-full bottle of water. The 40 or so others waiting at the light pretended to ignore him (and maybe did); I was sitting in a traffic-logged taxi and was transfixed. It was like he wasn't even there. When the lights changed, all parties moved on to their separate destinations: the banker-type to his surely Very Important Meeting, the office girls in their stilletos to the 20% off shoe sale, the college kids to the coffee shop, me in my cab lurching toward a night of entertainment frivolity. And as the driver pulled away, Green Sheet Man was pulling on his overweight shopping cart to parts unknown, barefoot and clearly naked under the sheet.

And I just felt absolutely inhuman after watching that. You can take the small town girl from the town to the Big City, but you can never put the Big City into the small town girl.

Throughout that night, the supposed frivolous entertainment never was. Nothing was ever right, everything and everyone seemed to be having loads of fun, but I was always tense. I couldn't concentrate, mainly because of a lack of sleep and my mind whirring around about how I had blown another opportunity to help someone. Helping people is what I do, for Pete's sake.

"But how?", the devil on my shoulder asked.

"Somehow...anyhow...you know what it's like," said the angel on the other. "You are a fraud, no better than those who turned you away or pretended you didn't matter."

A fraud and a coward. I had become One of Them. Yep, that was that gut-turning feeling deep inside me.

Later in the evening, as frivolity turned to absurdity, I gave into trying to help a friend accomplish a goal she held dear (to get a memento of the show we attended), as she clearly had more fun than I did because of my uneasiness and preoccupation. Yet, I guess I held back in helping her as much as I could because it just didn't matter to me that much right then. I was hearing various nonsense about the lifestyles of the rich and famous, all the while wondering how Green Sheet Man existed in the City without shoes. And my dear friend the Moon was clearly visible in the late night sky...at least in the wealthier side of town. I wished I had my truck to go find him and a cheap pair of shoes so at least his feet wouldn't get cold. After sleeping outdoors for a while, truck or no truck, you're always cold. It's a cold that gets down deep in your bones and you can never quite shake it...even in the hottest of summers you still feel it, like a ghost intermingling with your blood. I don't know if it's called Hunger or Pain or Desperation, but you die with it.

After I returned my friend to the modern-day comforts of an over-priced hotel, I was hungry and still spiritually unwell. Despite the late hour, I wandered for what seemed like hours and admired my friend the Moon, who glowed a welcome amber. I eventually found myself at a 24-hour convenience store that apparently specialized in every muffin variety and lottery ticket in a 4 state area. The clerk, who seemed somewhat surprised at me being there for whatever reason, was a nice Pakistani man who kept reminding me the muffins on display were the previous morning's, but still very good. I made my selections and stood in line. The man before me was short about five cents and he was bargaining. The clerk would have none of it. While they squabbled, I took out what was due and put it on the counter. They both stopped and looked at me like I had sprouted an extra head.

"It's only a few cents," I said. "I can afford a few cents."

With some hesitation, the clerk counted the change and my added amount, declared the man's half-wrap sandwich free and clear, and slammed the cash drawer shut. The man left, and typical of this world I guess, forgot to say thanks to either of us. Not that either of us expected a thank you, but it would be reassuring to know those two words are not just spoken in the rural areas of this country anymore.

The clerk returned to his former sunnier disposition with me and seemed happy I took him up on his suggestion of the muffins. I decided to enjoy one then and there, and am happy to report the blueberry one I sampled was fantastic...far better than anything made back home here. Ahh, yes, the Big City pleasures.

I was half-talking to the clerk as I stood in the doorway, looking at the mostly quiet street outside. With still much time before departure and no real place to go until then, I was debating whether another muffin was in order for the hours ahead. My thoughts were broken from the sound of trash can lids hitting the sidewalk across the street. I looked and saw 2 women searching for food from a Chinese restaurant bin, one more frantically than the other.

"Pay them no mind," warned the clerk behind me. "They're looking for change. They bring what they can find in here and change it out at dawn." He finished ringing up another customer, then came over to me at the front entrance. "Don't give them any money when you leave. They will try and rob you."

They may have been looking for money, but I also could not help but notice that they were eating half-eaten egg rolls, too. And the frantic one was fishing out as many of the unopened fortune cookies she could find and putting it in a garbage bag she had co-opted into a purse.

"They come in here at dawn, every morning, you say?"

"Yes, almost every day," was the reply. "Well, almost dawn. We have lots of customers, so don't want them in here after 5, really. They steal the fruit and ask for change, so I have to watch them."

I ignored his comments, not so much because I hated his description of the women, but because it was nothing new to me. I'd heard it several times in different ways several years before...but it was just said about me instead. I never stole food, but I did collect aluminum cans at night when I was short of money for the next meal, such as it was. Breaking away from Memory Lane for the moment, I checked my finances and, after allowing the outrageous cab fare to the airport, I bought three of his best muffins. He gave them to me; I gave them back.

"Keep them for when they come in later," I said.

He looked confused. "But they will expect this every day, then. No," he said, as he pushed them back at me. "You take with you. Very good muffins, you know."

I pushed them back again. "No," I said firmly. "For them. Tell them someone bought them, and then didn't like them, so you can't put them back. If they're hungry...", and I knew they were after all, "...if they're hungry, they'll take them and understand it's only once." Only once, damn it. Only once.

I held up a dollar to him. "I can pay you only this to make sure it gets done. It's all I have after cab fare..."

He held up his hand. "No, it will be done. Keep your money."

I thanked him and then stood at the doorway again, finishing my muffin before I left to go explore some more. I watched the women across the street count their fortune cookie bounty, thought about interrupting them to tell them about the muffins, but decided against it when I realized they were arguing. That's the thing about living on the street a bit, you gotta stand up and defend what's yours...no matter if it's newspapers, unopened fortune cookies, or shoes. Maybe Green Sheet Man, no matter where he is now, maybe he's found some shoes. I can only hope.

I was throwing away my wrapper and leaving when the clerk hollered at me from his register. "You know, once those people live like that, on the street like that, they are crazy. Always crazy. And use, never give back. Watch yourself when you leave, they'll know you're not a regular. But I will give them the muffins. But they don't know how to live. You do know that, right?" he asked.

"No, no, I didn't." And I walked away.

Temporarily Away

Heading out of town for a few days, as liaison and troubleshooter with the second 'job'. Will resume posting when I return, and will catch y'all up to date then.

Take care and be safe.

Saturday Afternoon: Thoughts to Ponder On

Quotes to ponder on, as I contemplate exactly what I want to do now in life:

When it's just me in my own world, it gets to be a very dangerous neighbourhood. - David Bowie

Never mind me. I'm living through my twilight hours. - David Bowie

I kiss you once. I kiss you twice. I love you more than beans and rice. - Violet (Brooke Shields) in the movie "Pretty Baby"

Go for it! You only live once and life is going to kill you anyway. - Anonymous

I want to love first, and live incidentally. - Anonymous

Danger and delight grow on one stalk. - Anonymous

I love criticism, as long as it is good. - Noel Coward

We never assert ourselves more than when we forget ourselves. - Andre Gide

One step at a time is progress. - Anonymous

The art of knowing is knowing what to ignore. - Rumi

Traveling down the road of humility, one will never find gridlock. - Anonymous

To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order, we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right. - Confucius

Start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible. - Francis of Assisi

There's time for watching and a time for doing. Think of it this way: Your life is the ultimate reality show. And you better get out of that chair and start doing your part -- because one of these days, you're going to get voted off the island. - Phil Keoghan

Courage is grace under pressure. - Ernest Hemingway

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do. - Eleanor Roosevelt

The Independent Weekly Strikes Again

Like a lot of people, I've become heartsick with the state of current events. And, yes, I can complain: I was one of the estimated 28% of voters who turned out last week in Orange County to try and make things better, if by no other means that just on paper. I think that's why so many people of my generation (mid-30s) and younger are finding other outlets for their immediate news and information fixes...we want change, yet need direction to help enact those changes. We crave someone...anyone...who will actually express some unfiltered opinions about topics, instead of some prefabricated script as mouthed by an over-priced Teleprompt reader. True, some of the opinions may be complete insanity and/or paranoia, but at least it's something original. It's choose either originality or suffocation by the main stream media....we do indeed live in a time of great unoriginal 'lemmings to the sea' apathy and its a becoming a massive black hole. And so many readers today are turning to blogs to fill that void.

Blogs, in the news and debate, information and contemplation, sense...not like my personal diary such as this. (But thanks for reading, 3 good friends who never comment...you know who you are!) And I find I am getting more and more of my news and information from them. The Huffington Post (www.huffingtonpost.com), DailyKos (www.dailykos.com), Crooks and Liars (www.crooksandliars.com), countless others. I compare what I read there to what I read and listen to from the more 'legitimate' sources...and I think I like my blogs more, although they are sometimes prone to jumping the gun so much that facts are in constant need of clarification. And I'm not sure it's the blogs themselves I like the most, or some of the online commentaries instead posted by readers that intrigue me more. Sometimes I am convinced this world is spinning to Hell quickly and at warp speed, somedays I am convinced intelligent life is out there and still inhabits this planet. And, although I don't qualify, make no mistake: I want the intelligent life people on this planet to survive, even if I don't. (And maybe some good-looking dumb ones, too, so the offspring have a fighting chance of looking pretty.)

The above said, the local alternative newspaper here, The Independent Weekly, (www.indyweek.com) features a cover story this week about blogging. "The Revolution Will Be Blogged" specifically addresses how political blogs are slowly infiltrating even conservative strongholds such as most of NC. Too bad I can't go see Kos tonight (founder of the Daily Kos site as linked above), but I do have hopes of maybe seeing some of these progressives at future political events around town now. After all, former NC Senator and former Vice Presidental candidate John Edwards has just moved into Chapel Hill and is just down the road (as everything here is). Wonder if he's blogging full time yet, or it's just his wife Elizabeth who's on point...

(By the way, Edwards and Co. will be attending an Orange County Habitat for Humanity fundraiser on Monday, May 15. Features food and some live entertainment as well. $25 per person donation/ticket price. Don't know about any standard Q&A opportunities yet, but I think I may go, but then again, when do I ever miss a Habitat fundraiser? Contact Habitat or me for info.)

Moment of Zen: Australia Day 2006

Pushed for time today, as this is Day 2 of 5 of extended training for the job. God, not only do I not like Mondays, I'm starting to not like any of the other days of the week, either. And hell, I'm not even a Boomtown Rats fan, and positively have issues with (Sir?) Bob Geldof's treatment of the late, great INXS lead singer Michael Hutchence. (If I have to explain, I can...but I really don't want to. Google them if necessary.)

This said, I now give you another Australian Moment of Zen. This picture was taken on my last trip there, in January 2006, on Australia Day (their national holiday, think Fourth of July just with much better beer).. This taste of heaven features the beginning of the Sydney Harbour Boat Race (after all the boats have 'paraded' by, highly decorated), that goes from one end of the Harbour to the other. Little do I realize how much I love the place until I see pics such as these and remind myself how much I don't love it here. Sigh. Enjoy, nonetheless.

Bruce Springsteen Returns Home, Back Porch Music

Saw a fascinating CMT (Country Music Television) presentation of Bruce Springsteen's latest recording of "We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions", which featured The Boss doing 13 of Seeger's great folk tunes. It's not standard Boss fare, but it may open up a whole new set of doors (and fan base) who have only known the Bruce in his prouder (and overblown, overplayed, and overly commerical) "Born in the USA" days, and not the Bruce (and certainly better, imho) of "The River" and "Thunder Road" days. I, for one, was slightly concerned as to whether he could pull off standard folk tunes and keep a straight face. I should not have doubted the Pride of New Jersey...the album is a must hear.

NPR (National Public Radio) did a wonderful interview with Bruce about this latest offering, and it even includes some musical snippets of Seeger versus Springsteen. Sadly, they did not feature "O Mary Don't You Weep", which is the standout piece here and also on 'the making of' documentary that CMT featured.

The official Bruce Springsteen website can be found here, and it features far more information.

Also, tremendous kudos (as always) to the absolutely wonderful Back Porch Music radio show, which features such wonderful folk, blues, bluegrass, and Gaelic music on weekend nights here locally. They are part of the WUNC Radio network (also a NPR station). You can learn more about Back Porch Music here (and God bless 'em, they were the first that played any of the above Springsteen/Seeger works locally), and can listen to the show live on the web (go this 'listen now' main page, and then choose either Real Audio, MP3, or Windows Media...downloads of each also available there, too). The show lasts generally 8pm-12am US EST on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, although some programming changes are made from time to time as necessary. A truly wonderful experience...and a fantastic way to relax and recharge on the weekend.

Emotional Gauge, May 8

Okay, it's been a long weekend. Had a productive Saturday, a lazy Sunday, a relative in the hospital and a very weary Monday. The list of things to do...a list which I am making a slow and steady headways on, by the way...seems to be getting longer. And I just don't know how all of that happened, truly.

So, that said, the following pretty much sums it all up:

(Still waiting permission from original poster of this at EzBoard, because it had been lifted by someone else on another board I read. If I have to pull this, it's because someone asked me to...great anime, still the same. Will keep it up until I have to remove it, which I hope I won't.)

What Book Are You? Quiz

Sorry, folks. Have not been feeling well, and also have not been sleeping well as a result. The updates to the blog take a back seat because of those two items. When I get feeling better, I will return to being the faithful blogspondent.

Took a very interesting quiz the other day...not sure I agree with it completely, but a large part of the conclusion is true. Easy enough to do (look for link below), 64 different choices, and it's not brain surgery. If nothing else, I now want to read what I 'am'.

My results:

You're The Guns of August!

by Barbara Tuchman

Though you're interested in war, what you really want to know is what
causes war. You're out to expose imperialism, militarism, and nationalism for what they
really are. Nevertheless, you're always living in the past and have a hard time dealing
with what's going on today. You're also far more focused on Europe than anywhere else in
the world. A fitting motto for you might be "Guns do kill, but so can
diplomats."


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.