My favorite holyday has always been Christmas. I can remember from when I was little going to my grandparents’ house to eat good food and unwrap presents under their over-decorated tree. It was such an exciting day for me that I would make calendars to count down every day of December until it was Christmas.
Interestingly enough, that same holyday has now become my least favorite. I still enjoy gathering as a family and being together, but new light has been shed on Christmas that has changed my feelings for it. Christmas is not the day of Jesus’ birth. It is in fact, the day of Tamuz’s birth. Tamuz was the son of an Empress long ago. She claimed that the Sun God has impregnated her with Tamuz and that Tamuz was to be worshipped and celebrated. Thus, on December 25 of that year, a holy-day was erected for him. Many years later the church tried to come to an agreement or compromise with the heathens and by doing that the church changed several things about herself. 1) She gave up the seventh-day and worshipped on Sunday, 2) she melded her days of celebration with that of the heathens (I.e. Jesus’ birth which was in spring now was celebrated on Tamuz’s birthday so both groups of people could celebrate and also holydays such as Valentine’s was adopted to honor the Fertility God).
I’m sad to say that with this knowledge Christmas is a less enjoyable season for me. It seems to be frivolous and unnecessary and I wish the Seventh-day Adventist church did not celebrate it.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Number 12- The President's Sandwich... Not!
If it weren’t for that giant jar of vinegar I wouldn’t be stuck in this pickle. You see, when I was young, just a sprout, I always imagined that I would be part of a veggie sandwich that would be served to the president, or in an award winning salad at the fair. I never imagined that I would be pickled in a huge bottle of vinegar. Sad, I know. Let me tell you about it.
The first morning I saw I was just peeking out of my flower bud. I looked around and found that I was not the only cucumber in the garden. Many of the others were in different stages of development; some were fat, dark green, and curved with age while others were still a minty green and no thicker then a pencil. As we all grew older the dark green cucumbers would be picked. We would all wonder and guess about what they were being used for. I imagined the day that I would be picked. I would be the biggest, most beautiful cucumber in the entire garden and because of this I would be used for something magnificent as the president’s sandwich I mentioned earlier.
The days came and went and with each passing one I became larger and greener. It wasn’t long before it was my time to be picked and all the little buds were wondering where I was going. I knew, however, that I was headed for fame and fortune.
The gardener came and picked me and some others off the vine. We were thrown into a noisy basket full of tomatoes and carrots. Everyone was so excited that they were finally leaving the garden that they all spoke and yelled at the top of their lungs. The ride was bumpy and rather long for my liking, but I had never strayed anywhere before so I suppose I didn’t know what long was.
We arrived at the house where the gardener sorted us into various boxes and crates according to our size, color, and what type of veggie we were. Ours was the only gardener either. There was an entire building full of baskets being sorted by their reapers.
The sorting didn’t take long. The lid to the box that I was in was put over us shutting off day light. I cannot tell you much that happened now for all I knew was that there was much bouncing, groaning and darkness. I heard the words, “load,” ”truck,” “Sacramento” and, “pickles” now and again but I have no idea whether or not that had any bearing on me.
After this awful ride we were dumped out into these caldrons of water where each and every one of us were scrubbed up and down. Next these gardeners, or whatever they were, placed us in jars full of vinegar. They packed us in so tight that one could hardly gasp for air. Once the last cucumber was shoved in, the lid was screwed shut and we sat in a dark room for days.
After this dungeon like stay was over, our jar was placed on what I believe was called a grocery shelf. A day or so later a middle aged gardener, or man I think they call them, took us off the shelf and placed us in a paper bag. Again, I do not know what took place in outside of the bad except for excessive bumping and swishing around. Next thing I knew, we were sitting in front of a whole room of small men, gardeners… or whatever they are.
The lid came off and the man pulled me out of the jar and slapped me onto a piece of wood and then duct-taped me to it for, “stability.” After this two medal prongs were stuck into me that were connected to a light bulb. After the man messed with the prongs and bulb I suddenly felt a surge of energy and the bulb lighted up. He said it was something to do with, “electricity,” and ,”the pickle’s charge.”
Anyway, this is how I ended up duct-taped to this piece of wood and light bulb that you have found me on. They call you a, “Garbage Man,” right? Will you please take me off here now?
The first morning I saw I was just peeking out of my flower bud. I looked around and found that I was not the only cucumber in the garden. Many of the others were in different stages of development; some were fat, dark green, and curved with age while others were still a minty green and no thicker then a pencil. As we all grew older the dark green cucumbers would be picked. We would all wonder and guess about what they were being used for. I imagined the day that I would be picked. I would be the biggest, most beautiful cucumber in the entire garden and because of this I would be used for something magnificent as the president’s sandwich I mentioned earlier.
The days came and went and with each passing one I became larger and greener. It wasn’t long before it was my time to be picked and all the little buds were wondering where I was going. I knew, however, that I was headed for fame and fortune.
The gardener came and picked me and some others off the vine. We were thrown into a noisy basket full of tomatoes and carrots. Everyone was so excited that they were finally leaving the garden that they all spoke and yelled at the top of their lungs. The ride was bumpy and rather long for my liking, but I had never strayed anywhere before so I suppose I didn’t know what long was.
We arrived at the house where the gardener sorted us into various boxes and crates according to our size, color, and what type of veggie we were. Ours was the only gardener either. There was an entire building full of baskets being sorted by their reapers.
The sorting didn’t take long. The lid to the box that I was in was put over us shutting off day light. I cannot tell you much that happened now for all I knew was that there was much bouncing, groaning and darkness. I heard the words, “load,” ”truck,” “Sacramento” and, “pickles” now and again but I have no idea whether or not that had any bearing on me.
After this awful ride we were dumped out into these caldrons of water where each and every one of us were scrubbed up and down. Next these gardeners, or whatever they were, placed us in jars full of vinegar. They packed us in so tight that one could hardly gasp for air. Once the last cucumber was shoved in, the lid was screwed shut and we sat in a dark room for days.
After this dungeon like stay was over, our jar was placed on what I believe was called a grocery shelf. A day or so later a middle aged gardener, or man I think they call them, took us off the shelf and placed us in a paper bag. Again, I do not know what took place in outside of the bad except for excessive bumping and swishing around. Next thing I knew, we were sitting in front of a whole room of small men, gardeners… or whatever they are.
The lid came off and the man pulled me out of the jar and slapped me onto a piece of wood and then duct-taped me to it for, “stability.” After this two medal prongs were stuck into me that were connected to a light bulb. After the man messed with the prongs and bulb I suddenly felt a surge of energy and the bulb lighted up. He said it was something to do with, “electricity,” and ,”the pickle’s charge.”
Anyway, this is how I ended up duct-taped to this piece of wood and light bulb that you have found me on. They call you a, “Garbage Man,” right? Will you please take me off here now?
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said,"Everyone has the power for greatness, not for fame, but for greatness, because greatness is determined by service."Do you agree that everyone has the potenial for greatness? On your blog, state what you believe to be the qualifying features of greatness? Please dig deep! Don't be superficial. This is a concept that has actually made me wonder a lot.
I do believe that Martin Luther King Jr. is right in what he said. The reason that I agree with him is because of what I believe greatness is. Greatness is not determined by one’s fame or power but by a person’s character and the efforts that they put toward bettering the world. You can be great and still be unnoticed by everyone around you. For instance, there is a story in the Gospels about a woman. She was very poor, so poor that she only had two mites to her name. One mite is about a quarter of a cent, therefore she only had half a cent. When she attended church that week there were many rich men and women who dropped handfuls of gold coins into the offering plate while she quietly slipped in her two mites. While the rich men and women had given more money, proportionately they had given much less. She had given everything for the cause of the church and they gave enough to appear good to the people around them. Jesus saw all this and declared that she had given more. She was greater then the others even though only One noticed.
I do believe that Martin Luther King Jr. is right in what he said. The reason that I agree with him is because of what I believe greatness is. Greatness is not determined by one’s fame or power but by a person’s character and the efforts that they put toward bettering the world. You can be great and still be unnoticed by everyone around you. For instance, there is a story in the Gospels about a woman. She was very poor, so poor that she only had two mites to her name. One mite is about a quarter of a cent, therefore she only had half a cent. When she attended church that week there were many rich men and women who dropped handfuls of gold coins into the offering plate while she quietly slipped in her two mites. While the rich men and women had given more money, proportionately they had given much less. She had given everything for the cause of the church and they gave enough to appear good to the people around them. Jesus saw all this and declared that she had given more. She was greater then the others even though only One noticed.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
In Dr. Seuss's Horton's Hears a Who, Horton the elephant discovers a tiny planet of living beings on a speck of dust. Other animals urge Horton to throw away the dust speck, not believing that such a tiny world could exist, but Horton refuses. The book ends with this moral:"A person is a person, no matter how small."Write about a current political situation that you think illustrates the idea that even seemingly inconsequential people are important. Use Dr. Seuss's moral as the last sentence of your paragraph. Please cite the source for your information if that applies.
I’m not sure how political this is, but to me it is a big deal. You see, there is this new crave for coffee from a certain coffee shop called Starbucks. This crave is so strong that Starbucks has swept across the nation taking over numerous small-town cafes and coffee shops. These seemingly insignificant morning pit-stops are now being erased from the face of the earth because of a nasty, monopolizing monster that super charges their drinks with extra caffeine in order that its victims will get hooked and buy nothing else. Their caffeine content ranges from 90 mg in the Bottled Frappucino to a total of 330 mg in the Grande coffee. By doing this they are literally causing their buyers to become addicted to their drinks bringing them back over and over again. But what about those little coffee shops? Don’t they matter anymore? They are going out of business because of Starbucks and no one cares except for a select few. Think about the poor owners of the dying coffee shops! They may not be millionaires like the people running Starbucks, but a person is a person… no matter how small.
Work cited:
Information about the caffeine content of Starbucks coffee was found at the following cite:
http://www.energyfiend.com/the-caffeine-database/
Thursday, October 11, 2007
It all began as any other Sabbath morning. I walked into Sabbath School and sat with my best friend Alizah and our friend Eric. After Sabbath school we failed to arrive in the main sanctuary on time, but because Alizah's parents sit in the second row we had to walk all the way to the front to be with them. While that morning's service was beginning we walked to the very front row and sat down. Almost immediately we whipped out our pens and paper so we could begin passing notes and doodling instead of listening. Throughout the sermon we whispered and restlessly passed notes totally ignoring what the pastor had to say. Towards the end of the sermon I had begun to feel guilty that we were being so disruptive and I thought that maybe I could trick the pastor into thinking that we were listening if I threw out an "amen" and then. With this plan in mind I proceeded to give out a very loud, very obnoxious "Amen!" Come to find out later, the pastor had not said anything that was needful of an "amen" but rather something more needful of thoughtful silence. As I shouted out my interjection, the pastor glared down at me as if I was the scum from the bottom of the sea and Eric and Alizah started to laugh. I'm sure that my face turned several shades brighter. I was sure that the entire church heard my rowdy "Amen!" and I decided to lay low for awhile hoping that people would forget in a few weeks.
This happened three years ago so you would've thought that I was the only one to remember my enthusicastic involvement in the sermon, but this is not so. Just two weeks ago, during vespers at Grass Valley Church, my youth pastor asked us to share embarrassing experiences. I shared my little incident with them. At the end of the story one of the kids said, "Yeah, I was sitting in the balcony and I heard it really loud." So much for them forgetting!
Although it's not pleasent, embarrassment isn't always a bad thing. Not only does it supply a good laugh down the road, it also keeps your "head from getting to big." In other words, those little mistakes and embarrassing moments that we have keep us from being arrogant punks.
This happened three years ago so you would've thought that I was the only one to remember my enthusicastic involvement in the sermon, but this is not so. Just two weeks ago, during vespers at Grass Valley Church, my youth pastor asked us to share embarrassing experiences. I shared my little incident with them. At the end of the story one of the kids said, "Yeah, I was sitting in the balcony and I heard it really loud." So much for them forgetting!
Although it's not pleasent, embarrassment isn't always a bad thing. Not only does it supply a good laugh down the road, it also keeps your "head from getting to big." In other words, those little mistakes and embarrassing moments that we have keep us from being arrogant punks.
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