Amanda—Fin.

Seven or so months it’s been since we started this thing, this EPIC CHRONICLE of life, filled with twists and turns, shocking reveals, harrowing car chases, and dragon-slaying—oh, sorry, wrong story! That’s someone else’s (more thrilling) tale; we were just talking about my blog, weren’t we?

Yep. You can’t even rightly call it a chronicle—this ended up being more of a “Amanda will attempt to write interesting things which may or may not directly relate to her first year at Southern” endeavor. But luckily the Marketing Department is broad-minded, and my (admittedly small) audience is accepting. I want to take this opportunity to thank you, dear reader, for—er, reading this, whether you’ve looked at the other posts or not. For what is writing that is not read? Someone just talking to themselves.
Here, have some rainbow cake on me.
(Side note: My friend actually made this the other day…it was glorious. :D )
Anyway, I suppose I should sum up the lessons I’ve learned this year:
Lesson #1—Sacrifices must be made. One cannot do everything, so choose what you want most to be done.
Lesson #2—Know what you’re getting into.
Lesson #3—Pasta Day is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Lesson #4—Uhhhh…I’m drawing a blank here…um, go to class? I kinda knew that already…
If I didn’t have a French final tomorrow, I’d for sure be able to come up with a lot more, guys. 
Anyway. This end of a blog is going to be kinda like this school year. Not incredible, just…good. And good is okay. Good is still good. I feel I’m finally in my element as a college student (as a middle grader and a high schooler I didn’t quite fit, was too scholarly and all :P). Raise your glass of Welch’s sparkling—here’s to broader horizons!
Sayonara!
-Amanda

Amanda—And Now…A Poem

Here’s a little piece I wrote just the other day:
Springtime at Southern
I see you, creature.
You in the grass
You with the nut
And the bushy-bush tail.
I see you flisk and misk
A whisk past a nose
Full of chiff.
Do you not see
The mass that is me
The cars that are my feet
Barreling down the highway?
No you
Didn’t, apparently
Until it was too late
And—
le gasp!—
There you were,
Out in the open
Out in traffic
Caught!
What will you do?
What would you say?
You can’t freeze forever, you know
I moved an inch
And watched you spaz
And flip and slip, 
Laughing to see such sport
(On an otherwise unremarkable
Trip.) 
You couldn’t believe yourself,
it seems,
And I
Couldn’t believe you—
Playing Frogger on the sidewalks of Southern!
‘Twixt classes no less.
Tsk, tsk, little misk
You should know better
Than to jump off the lid
And land in the batter.
That’s all for now, I’m afraid. (If you hate poetry, sorry about that whole thing.) :P
Sayonara!
—Amanda

Amanda—The Calm After the Storm

There was a storm last Thursday. 

Not a huge one. But enough to be noticed. I was working at WSMC when it arrived and began to throw water on Happy Valley, cracking lightning like bad jokes and following it up with sheepish rumblings (“Well, I thought it was funny…”). I traipsed over to the VM for supper, traipsed all the way to Southern Village to borrow something from my sister, and traipsed back to the dorm. On that last leg the rainclouds proved incontinent as they alternated between segments of no rain and segments of all rain. My umbrella could only provide so much protection, so my legs and shoes got thoroughly soaked by the time I reached shelter (at which point, of course, the downpour lessened).
The next day, Friday, was beautiful. The temperature had cooled, white clouds were scattering before the blue above, and I think there was even a nice breeze floating around. A tree in front of Thatcher was laden with blossoms. Lots of other trees had that spring-green foliage sprouting out, promising fuller branches. The grass was color-thick. The sun poured.
The day after that, Saturday, was also lovely. I went out to Audubon Acres sanctuary to experience de natures. I took pictures of pretty wildflowers and dipped my feet in the refreshing creek.
I’m not a huge nature person, actually. I’m more likely to cite the comfort of a house or the thrill of a story as the source of my awe, wonder, and gratitude in this world. But as I looked around at the fruits of my second least-favorite season (spring heralds summer, the most unpleasant one), I did marvel at nature’s beauty. God knows what pleases the human eye.
Those two nice days were extra nice, I think, because of the contrast to the previous one. And perhaps because of the dearth of nice days in general we’ve had. There was a dark storm, full of gloomy clouds and rain and thunder and lightning. And then…the sun and the wind swept it all away and put nice-looking and -feeling things in its place.
Now is when I’m supposed to talk about the “storms in life,” I guess. Craft some spiritual natural nugget. It will always have some parallels, I believe, because bad things happen all the time, sometimes in horrible succession, and often a period of better, maybe even good, stuff follows. And sometimes the good times feel even better because before had been so bad. (The English student in me is cringing at the simplistic wording of those two sentences. :P)
What I don’t believe, however, is that storms are necessary, that storms are in and of themselves good. Yes, sometimes they sweeten the good that is there. But nobody honestly likes storms (referring to metaphorical ones, of course). Storms are annoying and inconvenient. Storms are hurtful, painful. Storms are bad, guys. Suffering is bad. Is this news to anyone? Do I really have to point this out?
Yes. I meet a lot of people who seem to think that suffering is just discipline with bad P.R. But I think they are misleading themselves by softening and disguising the reality that is pain and discomfort. Its nature is such that it ruins, it tears down, it suffocates, it tortures, it poisons, it scars and mars and oppresses, often to the point of psychological or physical death. Are we really prepared to say that this is how it must be, that this is required to sweeten or to balance out joy and comfort? Do we honestly believe that such things are good?
I hope not. I hope we can all agree on the painfulness of pain and reaffirm an ideal of the pleasant. I hope we can realize that suffering, while inescapable, isn’t needed for life, for happiness. Think of the utopia (or Paradise, or heaven, or Eden, or nirvana or whatever you like to call it). In a place without any kind of pain or discomfort, devoid of suffering, would we eventually grow tired of the goodness? Would we grow bored with our delights and our pain-free existence? No, as tiredness and boredom and apathy are all bad, unpleasant things, and good—paradise—by definition excludes them.
Meanwhile, storms still come. The trick is to wait them out and hold on for better days, when the grass will be green, birds will be singing, and you’ll be feeling better about life.
Thanks for reading!
Sayonara!
—Amanda

Amanda—It Could be Worse

Man, this semester just doesn’t get easier. I’m still swimming in work, deadlines, and appointments. Waiting on May to deliver me. (“Waiting on God to deliver us.” —the world)
But let’s take a moment to step back and be grateful for…the fact that spiders can’t fly.
Yep.
Okay, okay, I can think of more. I’m getting an education. That’s something many don’t have. I’m fairly healthy. That’s something many don’t have. I have a loving family and good friends. More things that many don’t enjoy.
Huh. As a pessimist, being thankful is kinda easy. You think about all the horrible lacks and wants in people’s lives and compare that to your own troubles. And if your own troubles aren’t as bad, then you can be grateful. (If they are as bad or worse…well, you’re just at the bottom of the heap, aren’t you? That sucks.)
So I would choose my work over no education. I AM choosing it. I am also choosing to not be bitter. At the same time, sometimes I choose to complain. Because it makes me feel better. ;P Does complaining make YOU feel better?
As always, thanks for reading.
Sayonara!
—Amanda

Amanda—Paradiso

Ha! So I inundated my last post with so many photos, the marketing dept. sent me an email kindly asking me to keep it down to 10 in the future. I’ll try, guys, I’ll try, but we do live in a visual age, after all.. ;P

It’s raining. Again. We discussed this before (in October, actually) but it bears repeating: The weather is officially drunk this school year. This semester, I don’t think there’s been a week without rain. And it’s not just rainy, it’s windy. So then I have to leave the hat at home and brace my umbrella against the wind that threatens to bend even the non-Walmart, least flimsiest models.
It just needs to stahp. In my mind, I retreat to a sunny place where I’m free to enjoy the pleasantness, my days gloriously empty of obligations.
Huh…that’s something I find myself dreaming about a lot these days. In the hectic final weeks leading up to exams, especially. I guess you could call it my little version of Paradise, of heaven. But whereas a good Christian would be thinking of this:
“C’mon kids, grab your crown and white robe—we’re going to pet lions!” (Which would actually be pretty neat.)
I’m always thinking more along the lines of this:
That ever-so-blissful moment when it’s morning, the sun is streaming in, you’re snuggled in your fluffy covers and still in that stage between sleeping and wakefulness realizing you don’t have to get up because there’s nothing to do that day.

Yep. Notice there’s no alarm clock in that picture. That’s because in my fantasy world, there are no schedules, no deadlines, no errands or tasks to do. Just all the time in the world to savor good things.
Good things like…delicious food, hilarious friends, beauty both natural and manmade, and all those awesome books, movies, shows, and video games that I just do not have time for in the real world.
Really, it’s just an endless parade of all the most enjoyable things I can think of from my life. Very hedonistic, you might say. But isn’t that what we all want? To be happy? We only know of so much that makes us happy.
Perhaps my dream world would grow boring. Or perhaps it would never run out of new things to explore. Either way, I’ll never get to find out. In this life, in this world, I don’t—we don’t—have time for the timeless. Such otherworldly realms are mere products of imagination that have no place in reality. For instance, as of this moment I have lots of homework to do and so cannot waste any more time on wishes, no matter how deeply they may be felt.
On that note,
Sayonara!
—Amanda

Amanda—Spring Break (now with color photographs)

Despite the harrowing crashes of iPhoto during simple editing tasks, I have triumphed in getting all my spring break photos on my laptop and ready for display.
Yay! Let’s look at some of them! Do you have your popcorn?
We went to Savannah, Georgia. It’s a nice city, though I suspect I wouldn’t have liked it as much if we had gone in say, July instead of early March. (…That was a reference to the temperature, if you’re particularly sluggish today.) 
Most of my pictures will be from Bonaventure Cemetery, as we spent quite a while there and it had the most interesting things to photograph. Gravestones can be quite, ah, “spirited” * if the deceased are moneyed Victorian Romantics.
There were lots of impressive mausoleums, guarding their dead with Grecian pillars or…
…this,if your ancestors were Egyptian or something. Some of them had pretty stained glass windows inside (with iron bars on them—though that didn’t stop vandals from breaking a few, unfortunately). I especially liked this colorful one:
There was a big Jewish section, and a smaller Greek Orthodox one, all with the cool foreign lettering of Hebrew or Greek on the gravestones. 
Stone figures were everywhere—classically dressed women and girls, cherubs, Jesuses, a coupla monks and generals…but the most common were, of course, angels. Sad-faced, mournful-looking, at-times-giving-off-kinda-eerie-vibes angels. (And this is during theday…imagine what the place must be like at night!)
“It’s actually pretty boring. I hear the Colonial cemetery gets all the grave robbing-action…lucky ducks.”
One of the most famous statues is this super-detailed (and frankly, rather creepy) sculpture of a little girl for the grave of young Gracie Watson. When I arrived at the site, these two guys were busy scrubbing away:
Well, gotta keep ‘em clean, I guess. I wonder if the other, less-popular figures get such special treatment?
Songwriter Johnny Mercer is buried nearby, though he doesn’t have much in the way of artistic ornamentation, the poor guy. Just a little phrase on the white marble slab: “And the angels sing.”

Speaking of phrases and sayings, check out this little gem I found on the back of a marker:
Now, if that isn’t a parting thought worthy of Tennyson! I’m inspired to come up with my own sonnet of solace:
As the shimmer of sun
Hits the languid waters below
So she softly spread light
To the depths of slumbering humanity.
*sheds tear* Beautiful. Where’s my Nobel prize??
(I actually can’t make fun in total good conscience, as the engraved phrase is a quote from an actual poem—the eighteenth centuryNight-Thoughts by Edward Young. Meh. Antiquity is no excuse for purple prose! Well…it might be…)
There were big Celtic crosses and draped urns, towering columns and obelisks, pyramids and stone caskets and in case you got tired of all the walking around (‘twas a massive necropolis, it was)…
..the, uh, Wrights had kindly provided a place for you to rest your weary legs. Right on top of their resting place.
What? I wasn’t going to question their decision; like my mom said, “If it’s a bench, it’s meant for sitting.” Can’t argue with that.
It really was a beautiful place. Almost like somewhere you’d go for picnics or something.
Another beautiful place we visited was the Cathedral of John the Baptist, one of Savannah’s landmarks that dominates the skyline (they don’t really have any skyscrapers in downtown Savannah…I like that. They’ve done a fantastic job of preserving their historical city.)
Charleston may have more churches, but does it have anything like this? :D
Here’s St. Patrick, no doubt prophesying of the many great St. Patrick’s Day parades to come (seriously, look it up—the holiday is ahuge deal in Savannah…my sister Sarah was desperately wishing we could stay another week and catch all the exciting events. Personally, I was okay with just getting the (alcohol-free) foretaste of it.)
Before we left, we made sure to stop by Forsyth Park, the largest of the many verdant squares downtown. And yes, that isgreen water you see. They had just had their annual “Greening of the Fountains” for St. Patty’s a few days earlier.
These mer-…somethings were trumpeting/spewing their anticipation:
The weather was mighty fine that weekend. Cool, not hot; breezy, not windy.
Also, puppies:
You know you’re in an art college town [SCAD, the Savannah College of Art and Design] when you see sidewalk art like this:
Final stop was Tybee Island.
(Obligatory pic of lighthouse:)

The beach was very windy. The water was very cold. I amused myself by looking at the cool little patterns the ocean made in the sand:
And I got an even greater kick out of this typo on an otherwise very official-looking sign:
I mean, if you’re gonna put it in stone, better make sure it’s right, right? Right. Of course right.
Well, I better end this post now before it takes up the entire tumblr page (probably already does…) Thanks for sitting through my virtual slide show. I’ll pay back the favor sometime, I promise.
Sayonara!
—Amanda
* I apologize for that terrible pun…I’m going to go sit in the corner and think about my life choices now…

Amanda—Sweat, Blood, and Tears

This paper better be a masterpiece. It better be the pièce de résistance, the cream of the crop, the crowning glory of my academic achievements.


‘Cause otherwise, these 8742036 hours will be a waste.
Haha, I’m just kidding. If I just get a B, it’ll be worth it.
Sigh. Doesn’t make it any less painful. The struggle is real, my friends. This will be the longest paper I’ve ever done—10 pages, 2500+ words, with dozens of diverse sources and complex citations. I’m already behind on schedule, struggling to catch up because it took me longer than most to choose and research my topic (gender and children’s animated television, if anyone’s wondering. C’mon, I had to pick something that interested me. Face it, the health effects of jogging/guava/watching moss grow just wasn’t gonna cut it this time.)
And here I am, writing a blog when I should be writing Main Point #2. I really need to get faster at these things—papers, I mean, not blogs.
I have enlisted the internet’s vast collection of cats to help me express my situation:
Zzzzzz…
—Amanda

Amanda—In Which I do Not Relate an Account of My Spring Break

I wanted to do a post about how much music matters to me, with audio examples of stuff I love and everything, but I’ve discovered that sharing music in the digital age is not as smooth and easy as one might think, what with all the  hyper-copyright-awareness. So I’m postponing that one until further notice.

I suppose I should talk about my spring break. But I haven’t gotten my photos all together, and of course if you can use pictures from a trip you should, so…I won’t talk about that yet, either.
What do I have to say? Just this: I love my friends and family. No, really, that’s what’s coming to mind at this moment, because I just came back from some wonderful family bonding time over break, and right now I’m sitting next to one of my marvelous friends. “Crystal,” as we’ll call her (bonus points if you know me well enough to guess who she is), provides me with much entertainment when homework has finally succeeded in driving me mad. I just skip down the hall, knock on the door, and every time (at least when someone’s there) it’s opened for me to come in and talk the her and her roommate’s ears off with various rantings, jokes, and reflections. Okay, so they talk, too—but it’s rather remarkable they haven’t kicked me out yet on charges of gregariousness. 
Similarly, I just drive home, and every time the people there welcome me back. Mom, Dad, and Sarah (when she’s there) always accept me for who I am and provide me with the love and support that every human desires and deserves.
Wow. Sudden weird moment of gratefulness.
Whose love and support are you thankful for in your life?
Sayonara!
—Amanda

Amanda—Day of Hearts

Last Thursday was Valentine’s Day. Did you notice? I hope you did. All of Southern, it seemed, did.
There was plenty of candy and chocolate to go around, along with cookies, donuts, and a special KR’s slushie mischievously titled “Love Potion.” Pink and red hearts festooned the Valentine cards and messages that brought smiles to loved ones’ faces. The Southern Accent (which publishes on Thursday) jumped at the chance to feature/mention Valentine’s Day on just about every single page, from opinion pieces to advice articles to the entire humor page. Some people got balloons and flowers, but I think most of them must’ve decided that backpacks and books were already too much to lug around campus and so left their gifts in a safe place.
It was kinda a big deal, honestly, to my surprise. “Surprise? You were surprised? This is Southern Matrimonial College we’re talking about, Amanda.” Yes, yes, I know that—just lemme finish:
See, in elementary school February 14 was basically party day. Classes? Schoolwork? Psh, that all went out the window in favor of heart decorations, tables laden with sweets, and one mad rush to give all your Dollar Store valentines to ALL your classmates. Yes, all of them. You’d buy around 30 or so, featuring your Disney princess, monster truck, or (most popular) cutesy small animal of choice, tape a piece of candy to each, and then distribute them on the big day. You’d go home with literally a plastic bag-ful of candy, chocolate, and the piles of store-bought valentines you received from your fellow classmates.
But in late middle school and high school, well…ain’t nobody got time for Heart Day parties! Almost all “festivities” took place outside of class time. Gone were the days of buying and distributing valentines…The only people who really did Valentine’s Day were couples. Guys brought their girlfriends chocolate, balloons, and flowers (maybe even a romantic message if they were really ambitious) and everyone oooo-ed and awwww-ed, but other than that nothing really distinguished it from any other school day.
Now we’re in college, and I guess the holiday has made sort of a comeback. The nice thing is that everyone, couples and singles and…whoever else alike, can take part in it. The emphasis of Valentine’s Day is, of course, on romantic relationships, but the truth is that if you have a loved one, any one at all, February 14 is a special day for you, too. It’s about love, and as we know there are all sorts of types of love we have. You can give a valentine and/or a gift to your friend, your mom or dad, your child, your sibling, or even your teacher! (Just be sure to keep the platonic-ness clear in cases in which it might be questioned :P)
I myself don’t have a significant other, but look at what Valentine’s Day was like for me!
—I received a lovely card from my mother.
—I got a delicious donut from my sister’s Krispy Kreme Valentine’s Day dozen.
—Several people cheerfully wished me a happy Valentine’s Day.
—Candy, cookies, and chocolate kept being offered (most amusingly, in my Health for Life class)…so I ate a lot of it. ^^ Probably too much.
—I wished some friends a happy Valentine’s Day via text and received heartwarming responses for my efforts.
—I bought bags of treats for my friend and her roommate, who gave me a cup full of peanut M&Ms in return. Pricked by my nutritional conscience and wanting to give my own roommate something, I passed it on to her. She was very appreciative. :)
—I decorated a piece of paper with hearts, made it into an airplane, and threw into my RA’s room, proclaiming “HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! :D ” She also was appreciative, if a tad startled.
—I got out my colorful Sharpies and made a cat-themed valentine for a friend who needed it.
—On February 15 (Singles Awareness Day? I think), I got a charming balloon captioned “Love: Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That” (referencing a memetic line from this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udS-OcNtSWo), another donut, and two heart-shaped cookies, one of which I gave to my mom, who I had for class that day. All that despite having plenty of time for love. :P
So while some people have developed a dislike for Valentine’s Day, I think I can dig it. This world needs more love, more expressions of love. Why not set aside a day solely for that purpose?
*Love,*
Amanda

Amanda—Mistakes, part 2

In my post before last I talked about a couple of embarrassing mistakes I had made and how awful they made me feel. I now wanna talk about mistakes in a broader sense…My experience got me thinking, and I realized it’s a subject that, to the best of my knowledge, isn’t really touched on a lot. People like to explore the themes of love, death, forgiveness, revenge, memory, etc., but the only thing I’ve come across (that I can think of) that explored the theme of mistakes is the video game Braid (which, by the way, is a fantastic game that everyone should go out and try sometime. If you like brain-stretching puzzles… :D).

So we’ve acknowledged that mistakes are an inevitable part of the human experience. But what does that mean? What even is a “mistake”?

Here’s the (Oxford) dictionary definition: “An action or judgment that is misguided or wrong.” Well, that’s not very descriptive. I prefer my previous definition: Something negative has happened, and it’s your fault, but you didn’t intend the negative outcome at all. 

Actually, that definition isn’t complete either. Let’s break it down into the three components—negative outcome, fault, and unintentional (-ality? unintent? nonintent? whatever).

Negative outcome—Mistakes have negative consequences, right? I mean, the very word mistake doesn’t carry very positive connotations…But there are exceptions. We have what we call “happy mistakes,” where the outcome is positive. Though that prompts questions—what did we intend in the first place? It can’t be the same outcome, because then it wouldn’t be a mistake. We always intend positive (good) outcomes (mind you, they might not be positive for everyone, they just have to be positive for us), but in this case, the positive outcome expected and hoped for (setting aside the difference between hopes and expectations) was different from the positive outcome that actually happened. A pleasant surprise. So…is it still a mistake? Not in the traditional sense. It’s a “happy mistake.” Something good happened  by accident (which is another word that’s closely related to mistakes that we could explore…).

I like this guy’s philosophy.

Fault—Whose fault is it? Can the blame be traced back to one individual, or to multiple people, or to a collective group, or to no one in particular? And when no one’s at fault, is everybody at fault? Maybe the fault can be unequally distributed between people. She’s more at fault, he’s less at fault. Man, how do you even determine how much someone is responsible? And when you do determine whose fault it is and to what degree, then you come to the trickiest part of all…

Unintentional…ness—This is something we can dig into, I think. A mistake means you didn’t intend for the negative outcome that happened. But are there varying levels of intent?

People say: “It was an honest mistake.” What’s a dishonest mistake? Something done with malicious intent or aforethought? I’m tempted to say then it wasn’t a mistake, it was an intentional act of spite. Maybe a dishonest mistake is a legitimate error born out of an intentional, spiteful recklessness. Maybe a dishonest mistake is a mistake you try to cover up or trivialize. Something you make no effort to correct or apologize for.

“Anybody could have made that mistake.” Really? Could they have? Clashing with the whole “unintentional” thing is the issue of responsibility—no matter what you intended, you still did the action that caused the negative outcome, you’re still responsible for what happened. You were in charge, and you made a blunder. At the end of the day, someone has to answer for all their actions. So what’ll it be? How do you deal with the one who has made a mistake?

In an interesting twist, it often depends on the severity of the outcome. So while my mistake in leaving the mic on when it was supposed to be off at WSMC resulted in only my personal shame and horror, the possible annoyance of a few listeners, and the disapproval of my boss, the consequences of something like, say, a security error in the medical records database of some huge corporation would be a much more serious matter.

Some mistakes even cost lives. A commander of a military unit makes a misjudgment in the heat of battle…and ends up losing some of his men. A logistics mixup results in inadequate emergency relief supplies for victims of a disaster…and more people die.

And yet the underlying cause—human error—and lack of intent in every case, big or small, is the same.

What if I made a mistake that resulted in the death of hundreds? Thousands? Millions? How would you view me, and what would you do with me? I didn’t intend it at all. It was a completely honest mistake.

But people still died (or, “[insert awful negative outcome] still happened”). Something must be done…? Right? What punishment will be given to the one behind it all, albeit unintentionally, besides the guilt that might already burden them?

That is not an easy question. Like I said, the answer varies with the situation. The punishment might range from nothing to a scolding to a banishment to a sentence of labor or confinement to an execution. Again, intent may or may not be a factor.

“Everybody makes mistakes.” “Nobody’s perfect.” Is there anyone who has never made a mistake? Let me rephrase that: Is there anyone who has almost never, in their entire life, made a mistake? Perhaps. Are there people who make less mistakes, and people who make more? I think so. Could we label those people who make less mistakes as competent, and those who make more incompetent? I don’t know—some mistakes are born of inexperience or ignorance…is it fair (or ethical) to say mistake-makers are less valuable in the world?

For that matter, do mistakes themselves hold any value for us? If error and fallibility can be said to be common to all humanity, can they be said to be an asset to our race? Some people might hold that mistakes keep us humble, that they’re constant, needed reminders of our limitations and finite nature. If we were all perfect, we might overstep our bounds and reach for the heavens, exalting ourselves to godhood. We would have no need for God.

I tend to side with another argument. Mistakes are our curse. They are not good things. The good things are what humans are striving for when mistakes come roaring in and ruin everything. They may keep us humble, but they also keep us in misery. People will always be foiled by their inexplicable inability to execute things the right way—perfectly. Forever denied perfection, but perpetually “blessed” with horrific defects, shortcomings, and pits of Wrong. This is an unhappy lot. If we were all perfect…well, we’d all be perfect. Perfectly right, perfectly good and desirable. No, I don’t know how God would fit into that arrangement, but it nevertheless sounds pretty agreeable to me.

Anyway. I’ve wrung out all my thoughts on the issue. Most of it was more questions than answers, but still—a topic worthy of contemplation, I think.

 

Sayonara!

-Amanda

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