Literally.

When people misuse the word literal, it literally makes my head spin. 

WRONG. See what I did there? I'm sure that other people rant about my word choices at times, but this is just one word that I could write a letter about. I don't know where I would send the letter. I'm sure Morgan Freeman would share in my plight.

Oh dear. I looked it up in the dictionary...and due to modernized, hipster circumstances, the definition has completely changed. *le sigh* (I don't really know where I got that. How does one sigh in French? Probably with excessive drama and phlegmatic effects). 

Pliers with a Purpose

Yesterday, I found a pair of pliers at my parent's house. Now, normally, I would ask myself if I cared and my self would answer, "...No. Why are you even asking yourself that question?" (which gets a little confusing when your own self starts talking to yourself. Just stay with me). At any rate, I did care. Because it was actually a pair of multi-purpose pliers, complete with several blades and what looked to be a nail file...though it probably does something different entirely, such as scrubbing off the stain on that plate that you really should have washed the night before, or perhaps something more manly like rubbing off a beaver's nose (I don't know. I don't know what they do all day. Men, that is).
I asked my dad if I could have them, expecting him to say something like, "don't be a cotton-headed ninny-muggins." but he said I could have them. I held it in my hands, testing the weight and durability and, less importantly, the fact that I could make it stand by itself. What an interesting contraption. Someone who invented a pair of pliers with several blades on it must have had led a pretty adventurous life, or perhaps lived on an island where he had to change a lot of tires.

So I got me to wondering.

How many purposes can a multi-purpose pair of pliers actually have?

My mom had a go at it.

"You could use it to pluck your nose hairs."

Tempting, oh cherished parent of mine. But I'll pass. I think I have come up with a list that I may or may not use them for:

1. Pull up your socks when you're wearing boots.
2. Bring it with you to restaurants in case they've run out of silverware. I'm sure this happens a lot.
3. Opening up the stupid child-proof things that have been stupidly invented for adults that just need some peace of mind or a pickle.
4. Instead of trying to open cereal bag and ripping it everywhere and from that point on having your cereal forever getting trapped in the black hole that is the box.......cut it with a knife.
5. When your friend has something in their teeth? Cut it with a knife.
6. Thread on your shirt that could go around the world twice? Cut it with a knife. (or just buy a new shirt. Unless it's your favorite shirt that's falling apart. If it is....it's time to let go).
7. When your washing machine is broken, hold the pliers and stare longingly into the pit that is your machine, and maybe by simply holding them you'll be a better repairman. Or wasting your time, depending on if the washing machine is half empty or half full.
8. Pull out all of the blades and pretend you're Wolverine.

So, actually, for being a practical tool.....

I have no idea what I'm going to use it for.

But I still feel pretty awesome with it in my purse. And one of these days someone is going to be carrying a jar of pickles in the park and they're going to say, "golly. Wish I had a multi-purpose pair of pliers to open these with. Or maybe just a hug." And I'll jump out from behind a tree like Wolverine and they'll have a heart attack and die and I'll get all of their pickles.

I never said it would end happily. I just said it would serve a purpose.

Apple and orange

A few weeks ago, I joined the conformity that is the iPhone. As a pro-PC user, I was against anything Apple...but I just couldn't resist. The tantalizing idea of more things to drop and break was simply too much to handle. Speaking of fruit...

I love the color orange. In fact, speaking of Apple, I got an iPhone case that is bright orange...in fact, it's my favorite color.

I really only had to include something about orange so that I could have a catchy title. If you didn't understand the title, I would like to point out the similarities between that and the phrase, "apples and oranges." There is nothing inherently applicable between that phrase and my title...I just felt like blogging my feelings to the world today.

On a side note, did you know Ryan Gosling's in a band? My friend just showed me today.

Bebe (Beebee) and other great pets

I'm feeling rather nostalgic today, so eat your heart out. (Where do people get these phrases?! Eat your heart out?! I'm not quite sure what would ever possess you to do such a thing, or why I even suggested it, but there it is).

I am spending a few weeks in Missouri with my grandparents. One of my favorite parts of visiting them is seeing their Cockatiel, Bebe. Yesterday morning, however, I noticed her cage wasn't sitting in it's normal spot. I was aghast. "Where's Bebe?" I questioned my grandma. "Bebes been gone for about a year now, Bekah! You knew that." I tried to remember anyone ever telling me this. We hadn't been to our grandparents for over a year, so I chalked my misinformation up to this. I felt a sense of loss come over me. Many people would probably say she was just a bird, but Bebe wasn't just any old bird. I just couldn't believe it.

Grandma and grandpa had had Bebe for about 25 years (she was older than I was!) Bebe wasn't a particularly lovable bird; she loved grandpa, tolerated grandma, and absolutely hated the rest of us. But she was just so great. I loved watching her hop around her cage. She had a mirror hanging from one bar, and she would always watch herself curiously, as if the "other bird" in her cage would do something strange or unnerving. She had a fun whistle; it wasn't annoying or anything, like a lot of birds tend to be. When my siblings and I were younger and Bebe was in her prime, grandpa would let her out of her cage, and she would fly circles around the house, much to our delight, and would finally settle on grandpa's shoulder. I think one of the reasons I loved her so much was because grandpa did. He would talk quietly to her, and it was as if he were the only person in the world Bebe would listen to.

Grandpa has always had a way with animals. Before our beloved dog Mickey passed away, he would always take long walks with her and you would look out the window and watch him talk to her and pet her, and you wouldn't want to go out and disturb the world they shared, just the two of them. Mickey was the best dog in the world. There are a lot of pretty great dogs out there, to be sure, but Mickey was the best. She was small for a German Shepherd, but what she may have lacked in size she certainly didn't lack in heart. Mickey was somewhat obedient; she knew how to shake and sit but that was about the extent of games she'd allow. Playing fetch with her was a joke; it was more a game of keep-away than anything. I figured out her system though. I would take two sticks outside. I threw one, and then when she brought it back, I would pull the other one out. Suddenly, the stick I now held in my hand was priceless, and the stick she had was junk, not fit to be thrown or gnawed. I threw my stick, and she charged after it, leaving her old stick forgotten on the ground. I would then pick this one up, and our game repeated. It took a few years for her to figure out my game.


Another great pet was Grunty, our Guinea Pig. Grunty was extremely obese and didn't really do much. One Christmas we had brought him to our grandparent's house. One morning we woke up, and were surprised to find little baby Gruntys. I guess there was a reason for Grunty's obesity...Or should I say Gruntina? We all had quite the shock and laugh about a great petcapade.

A final pet I will mention is our cat Oreo. Oreo has been around for about 12 years; we had bought her as a kitten around the same time as we bought our puppy Mickey. Oreo has outlasted every single cat we've ever owned, and I attribute this to her fiesty and almost feral spirit. I will be honest: I am not a big fan of cats. I think they're selfish creatures. But I have a grudging respect for Oreo. She takes care of herself and could definitely hold her own in a bar fight. When Mickey died, Oreo wasn't quite sure what to do. She has come down to the house ever since, and sits in front of the door. I think she truly misses her weird friend that chased her.

We have had many pets throughout our childhood, but these few deserve the trophy.

Tebowing

I have decided, among other things (such as, "to follow Jesus, no turning back"), that I am going to marry Tim Tebow.

Now. I know what you're thinking. That there are so many other women out there that have vowed the exact same thing. But I would like to point out some differences between me and those women.

Reasons Why I Will Marry Tim Tebow:

1. Our parents were both missionaries.
2. We're both left-handed. Might not be a fact, but he might as well be.
3. ...we both throw a football left-handed.
4. We both love Jesus.
5. We both like to win.
6. We both love football.
7. I have a Broncos sweater.

It's obviously a match made in Heaven.

In all seriousness, though, I have been reading Tim Tebow's biography, "Through my Eyes". I'm finding that though he's not the best of writers, his heart for God is so clear and obvious. Even when I watch Tebow on national TV or read articles about him, he has no qualms about professing his faith in his precious and beloved Savior. It made me start to think. We all have heard the sermon about your actions speaking louder than your words, that the fruit describes the tree, etc. But it's so profoundly true. I think about my interactions with people on a daily basis; at work, school, even at home. It makes me ashamed and convicted. When I am interacting with those that I know do not love Jesus or are not following Him, why am I not sharing with them every single chance I get? My actions should scream "LORD!" louder than my words, and my words should follow it up.

 I want to make an apparent change in my life. I don't want people to be surprised when they find out I'm a follower of Christ. But I think one thing I need to do is learn to love. I think about all the people in my life that have upset me or angered me. We think we know how to truly love everyone, but it is such an incredibly hard thing to actually do. I can think of many people that I can't fathom loving. And that's where I need to begin.
I've recently been looking at these people in a new light. That God created them, just like He created me, and He loves them unconditionally. So...what's my excuse?

I haven't blogged in a while, so I felt the need to write something warm and gracious...

...Good gracious it's warm in here. (Victor Borge wit).

Flies are one of my biggest pet peeves. And I don't just mean the small ones. I'm talking about those huge ones that fly around and sound like miniature aircraft carriers. They're so fat and gross. I want them to run into the wall and die a slow and fatful death. Of all God's creation, I just can barely tolerate bugs.

Even butterflies.

Yeah, I said it.

Butterflies give me the creeps. Have you ever looked really close at one? They look like they're sucking the brains out of flowers. I can just hear women around the world gasping, holding hands to fluttering hearts. "Butterflies, Bekah?! My stars. Their delicate wings of supernatural beauty! How could you say such slanderous things?"

[It's a good thing fat flies are so slow. I killed him. The fly, that is].

What I have to say is this. Yes, butterflies are pretty fromest afareth. But have you ever been in a swarm (hive? Murder? Herd?) of butterflies? They make it look pretty in the movies. But I've worn bright pink shirts out in the wilderness and let me tell you...it quickens the heart a bit.

I also have a marginal discomfort with large swarms of birds. I was never the same after seeing the movie "the Birds" in 10th grade. A scarring film.

[Okay. I seriously killed that fly, and now there's another one. It's like the mythical Hydra; except when you kill one fly, a gatrillion take it's place. Messy].

I didn't really have a point to any of this.

Bugs are gross. I don't think there will be bugs in Heaven. And if there are, there will be such things like Heavenly mosquitoes. They will spit out rainbows or something.

Philoso-FIN (see what I did there? Mixed subjects here), and many other quandaries.

Well. I got my first quiz back in Philosophy. As soon as I saw it, I dreaded telling my mother...I knew she'd manage to make a point on how she told me I should have taken a math class instead.

I was TOLD by my advisor that art students could take Intro to Moral Philosophy as a math credit. It sounded so simple; so easy. I figured I would just learn the material and tune out for the most part, as I generally disagree with most of the opinions stated anyway...

Math for art students. PFT. I had forgotten that half of my brain even worked...

I've also decided that it's weird when people say you're acting like an animal. Urban dictionary defines the term "animalistic" as:

acting like an animal or beast. acting crazy. But I ask you this: do animals kill their own? No. Animals are instinctive creatures. They do exactly what they were made to do. They take care of their own. If anything, we should be saying "you're being humanistic." Or "peopleistic".  How crazy is crazy, anyway? I've seen some pretty crazy people... I also want to know why Police radar detectors (that you can buy pretty easily) are not illegal. Riddle me this. Have you ever had that awkward moment when you see someone you know and you wave but they don't wave back? Or when you both have obviously seen each other, but you avoid eye contact and pretend to texts whilst the other does the same? Or...you say the same thing at the same time? "Hey how's it going?" Did that today. Exact same time. On a scale of one to awkward I'd give it a 62.786. Today, a grasshopper attacked my face in my car while I was driving. Needless to say, I was NOT happy with it. I pulled over and when it finally flew outside I prayed that a car would run it over and it would melt to death. I've been off coffee for a week now, and I already feel like I'm detoxing. I need it. I crave it.  Yes, I think abortion is wrong. Yes, I still sometimes catch myself thinking they're saying "Youth-in-Asia". No, I have no concept of politics and don't really intend to start studying such things at a scholarly level. Yes, my professor reminds me of Mr. Frederickson from "UP". There. "And that's my new philosophy!" You're welcome for that reference. Have you ever stared at a word for so long that it starts looking really weird? And you keep saying it over and over again, then all of a sudden the feeling's gone. And it's just a word again. Like, deja word. A writer on crack might know what I'm talking about.  I really, really need some coffee.