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So today I "was invited" to help give the refletion (which is what the sermon's called when it's not a sermon) by the minister. Which means, I proposed this idea and the minister agreed and thought of another person who could speak on the other topic he wanted discussed, came up with the unifying theme, and helped me outline what I should say. I spoke for a little under 5 minutes about the white ribbon and December 6, another woman spoke for about 5 minutes about the red ribbon and AIDS and December 1 (which is World AIDS Day), and Arlen did both a little introductory speech and a followup speech.
This is the bulk of what I said -- there was a little bit of filling in and changing I did on the spot because originally, we were supposed to light candles, but that got changed to just affixing these big huge ribbons Arlen had made (and to which I refer) onto the banister behind the Communion Table and in front of the not quite pulpit (the pulpit was pulled out because of the Christmas Concert on Friday and won't be back for a little over a week because the Jubilation Choir is having their annual concert Thursday through Sunday evenings). I don't have a perfect memory, so this is reconstructed on the slightly awkward side.
So, without further ado, my "sermon".
( Cut because I care. )
The reaction was good -- quite a few people told them I'd moved them to tears, many were thankful I addressed the issue, and a few people were also happy that I expressed a message beyond commemoration. So, all in all, I'm satisfied.
For those who hadn't read any of my preparation for this, I pulled the background material from the Wikipedia, and wrote up the monstrous middle paragraph last year on December 6. Current Mood: remembering
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The journal is black today for two reasons.
This morning, Yasser Arafat passed away in his hospital bed. For his efforts at winning peace, for realising compromise was necessary to gain that peace, and for his sheer determination, I honour him. May his successors seek peace and harmony.
Today is also Remembrance Day here in the Commonwealth. Even though this date marks neither the treaty of Sevres nor the treaty of Lausanne, I still pause on this day to remember both my countries' dead from WWI.
( Read more... )I have no poppy icon, so I'm using my white ribbon one, instead.
I wear my ribbon ... in protest against violence and brutality towards women. But why stop there? Women aren't the only victims of violence around the world, nor are they only the victims. The white ribbon is also a reminder of my promise to myself and those around me not to raise my hand in anger. And that's what this should truly be about: reminding us all to commit to not taking out our rage and our frustrations and anger on those around us, whether we perceive them to be weaker than us or the cause of our torment. By acting violently out of anger, we make ourselves monsters just as heinous, if not more so, than the ones we believe we fight.
Deniz Sarikaya, December 6, 2003.
Current Mood: remembering
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... chicks. Be they female or male. (And, yes, that includes myself when I'm being one.)I have, after due consideration and discussion (read: over late night kvetching sessions with the roomie), come to this conclusion. Don't get me wrong, chicks aren't all bad. But... the whole saying one thing in direct conversation and then doing and saying completely opposing things in all other interactions, the whole expecting more than they said they were expecting, the whole mixed messages, the whole expecting or hung up on marriage thing (so glad I grew out of that!) and being completely domesticated, or the whole believing everybody is out after them: chicks! *throws hands up in air*Yep. Need to find myself some dudes now. Or maybe switch hitters. Be they male or female. Hmm... there are, thankfully, prospects. Sadly, I suspect I shall, in a few years, start ranting about all the problems with dudes. And if you want to get offended by this entry, I can't stop you. But I say it not with rancour, but from pain, frustration, and bewilderment. And, thankfully, a good deal of that drama is out of my life now, so this is more a retrospective, across the years summary.Current Mood: lecturing
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I am declaring Drop Dead Drama Day to everybody around me and to the Fates. If you have drama you want to involve me in, drop it dead for a day. If it's still relevant drama after my day of reprieve, I'll pay attention to it then. If you try to bring drama to my door during this day, I will inform you to drop dead or to bugger off. Chances are, after a day of not worrying about this alleged drama that allegedly involves me, you'll realise that it really isn't that important. And if you really do want to keep worrying about it, I'd recommend prioritizing it below things like tying your shoelaces and work and sleep. I do apologize for people with whom I had scheduled drama and non-drama related get-togethers in the nonce, but I need this hermit time. My plan for now is to go home and get a lot of sleep (possibly vegging in front of the freshly hooked up DVD machine -- depending on how much energy I have). Why? Because I have just been handed a boatload of responsibility at work (not complaining, I did volunteer for this as it is right up my alley and exactly what I'm very well suited to do -- the timing just could have been improved), my voice has been absent for three days due to inadequate sleep, the household errands have been sufficiently run that there are no emergencies for me to attend to, and I'll be damned if I burn out in the middle of a week. That's what Mondays are for. Good night, all. Over and out. Current Mood: emphatic
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The awful, terrible thing about hosting a party (which I still need to write up)? All the food left over. None of it is good. It's all bad. Some of it, I suspect, has even gone off a bit. That's why I can't let anybody else have it. I must insist. I will suffer the hardship of choking it down and possibly poisoning myself and upsetting my digestive system's delicate balance. And if something falls on the floor, I suppose I'll just have to eat it that much faster. Don't mind me sitting in the corner gorging myself on leftovers. My licking my fingers does not in any way whatsoever mean I'm enjoying the food. And if you see me napping afterwards with what appears to be a smile of bliss on my face, rest assured it is simply some peculiar grimace. Current Mood:  suffering
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I overheard a conversation once, while sitting in a metro station waiting for the train to arrive, which has stuck in my head.
Two girls were talking about various things and eventually got to the topic of the Ice Storm of '98, when nearly the entire island of Montreal lost power for a while, or so it seemed.1 One of the girls was talking about how she and her mother were listening to the radio, listening to figure out just what was going on and just how bad this blackout was. When her mother started grasping the full scope, she told the daughter they needed to go and find someplace else to stay. The way she did this, though, was to turn to the daughter and say, with a straight face, "Sauve qui peut!"
I don't know why, but because of that one overheard conversation, that phrase now never fails to bring a smile to my face. Assuming, of course, that the building isn't actually on fire or somesuch.
[1] For those of you reading this not from around here, this was a storm with ice deposits of a magnitude we only see once every century or so, and some long-haul power transport pylons collapsed under the weight of it. I know some people who were without power in January for about 3 weeks. I had one friend who never lost power. Myself, I lost power for a little over two days -- long enough to have to throw out all the food in my fridge, but not long enough to feel like a vagabond while crashing at friends' places for company.
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Now, this is what I call a thunderstorm! Woohoo! Severe thunderstorm warning on Environment Canada website? Check. Lightning? Check. Thunder? Check. Rain enough to make a full lane on each side of the road inaccessible to pedestrians wishing to keep their feet dry? Check. Time to turn off all the lights, run from window to window, and enjoy! If it were a little bit warmer, I'd prolly toss on a swimsuit (neighbours) and run around outside screaming. Silly Canada doesn't get warm enough. Update (20:57): And, of course, now that I waited a few minutes to enjoy the storm before writing about it, it's done. It passed on a minute or two ago, and now I content myself with watching the cars try to speed up since their windshields are no longer obscured by perma-rain even though the streets have yet to drain. Sometimes I really love this city. And then, at times like this, I love it even more. Current Mood: exultant
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It's the 38th general election, Canada. Go vote. If you don't like any of the candidates in your riding nor the parties they represent, go to your polling station, get marked as having shown up, and decline your ballot. Don't eat it, though. Even the people at The Edible Ballot Society aren't really pushing the issue this time 'round. Because spoiled ballots don't count, and missing ballots (because they're in your tummy) mean you could invalidate the results for your polling station, declining your ballot is the recognized way to register your protest without being counted as a silent, apathetic non-voter. Also remember: every party which receives more than 2% of the popular vote will receive federal funding to the tune of $1.75 per vote per year. I've my plan for when I walk into the polling station tomorrow morning. I hope you all have yours. Current Mood:  determined
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