The Canadian Tenors

The Location - Harman Chapel

The Piano Man! Fantastic Person!!!

Clifton Murray

Remigio Pereira - "the shortest Portuguese man in the group"

Fraser Walters

Victor Micallef - from Malta!!! (1565 A.D. anyone?!)

The Group

Here at Bluefield College, we are again getting ready for finals. As always, this is a time of peculiar stress. I was writing a final paper on Monday that was due today at eight o'clock. Not the best situation. However, the Music Dept has been working on a concert with the Canadian Tenors. I got my ticket in advance (Harman Chapel was sold out weeks before the actual date of the event), but I didn't really care one way or the other. I worked on a paper all day, and when the time came I was in a lot of pain and almost didn't go. However, as I'm writing a blog post on it, I obviously changed my mind. An hour and a half before the concert was slated to begin, people were everywhere. And then... it was time.

I don't know when I stopped hurting, but they were AWESOME! And funny too. They were quite comedic. I have to say though, that the finale, "Remember Me" from Troy, was absolutely spine-chilling. I wish the concert hadn't ended...

I have not seen Harman Chapel so full since the Theatre Department put on Fiddler on the Roof about five years ago. That play was very well done.

These photos are courtesy of Jerry Frech, resident artist, formerly serving in Iraq. He is a great guy and his wife, Dana, is awesome. You should check out their website www.frechstudios.com for more photos and artwork. It's definitely worth it. So, for those of you that weren't at the concert, thank Jerry for these pictures and go check out the rest of them.

One End, Another Beginning

~My apologies in advance for the font size change halfway through the post. I've tried editing it in all the ways I can think of, but nothing seems to work. :-(

Saying goodbye for the final time to someone who was larger than life itself is a task that appears impossible. It is something that one avoids thinking about, hoping that somehow that day will never come. And yet, the mind tells you it will. The question is, how do you go on?

A tall, slender woman carefully picked her way along a narrow, dangerous footpath winding to the top of a forest-covered mountain. Her journey was made harder by the wrapped bundle she carried under one arm. It appeared to be made of cloth, wrapped around a wooden pole a bit shorter than something one would use for a spear. To the eye, it was plain and impractical. But, something that was interwoven into Mekara's life was the knowledge that the truth often lay beneath a surface that tricked the eye of the careless observer, and thus was revealed only to those who truly cared, those who took the time to learn.

In the distance the crashing roar of a waterfall gave the reason for the humidity in the air. Shade fell across the path as the trees blocked the sunlight. To one side there was a dangerous fall down the steep side of the mountain. Mekara paused and looked back, and then she looked forward. Momentarily she closed her eyes. Her garb was well-made, but simple, the uniform of an officer with a practical mind. Unthinkingly she shifted the position of the burden she carried before continuing her upwards climb. Her hair was brownish-blonde with glints that caught in the sunlight, and currently it was intricately braided down her back. Only the most keen-sighted would have thought to wonder why it covered her ears, concealing the delicate upswept points that were one of two obvious physical traits that she was not human. The other was her eyebrows, slightly darker than her hair, also curving upwards slightly towards the ends. Like her mother, like her father, Mekara combined traits of both races as she moved with the feline surefootedness and jungle grace of her Ylijumalat father. Combined with the lethal efficiency of her Rihannsu mother, Mekara was in many ways unique, the leading edge of a new generation.

Wind blew through her hair lightly, a refreshing breeze as she continued her solitary path. Moving as silently as Mekara herself, a shadow moved in the darkness of the forest, rarely approaching the patches of brilliant sunlight.

Mekara moved with the walk of someone who had a definite purpose. "It has been far too long..." she reflected to herself. "I should have done this long ago, but I suppose I could not admit... that she would never return again."

In life, Ael t'Rllaillieu had commonly been known as 'Jade.' She had lived through more than most people cared to imagine, seen both the bright and the dark sides of life, and risen to the pinnacle of achievement. Yet, she never sought the limelight, instead preferring anonymity. Imperial commander in the Galae Fleet division, Grand Master of the Jedi Order on Coruscant, governor of a planet, assassin, spy... but always a warrior following the Way of D'era, living for Mnhei'sahe. She had lived a life of sadness, finally after many years finding happiness with her husband, Nyyrikki Tuoni, after their first, initially stormy meeting. The fiery, petite warrior had hated him with an icy-cold loathing...at first. The road for both of them together had been hard, one culture crashing into another and both trying to learn how to live together, something they had finally achieved because they both thought it worth the effort. And now... though Mekara tried to emulate them both...they were gone...and she was left.

It was hard to imagine the short, barely five feet tall, woman with the magnetic green eyes revealing her vibrant personality and the will to fight on, as the still, calm woman who had been laid to rest with the quiet state that she herself might have approved of. In her heart though, Mekara remembered the quiet smile that had curved her stony cold lips framed in their last sleep. Though perhaps it wasn't quite the death the warrior would have chosen for herself... or maybe happiness and Nyrrikki had changed her mind over time.

Mekara did not know, and that was not for her to decide. What she had to do, was fulfil the demands of culture, history, tradition, and Mnhei'sahe. Cast out by her own people for attempting to bring honour back into society, Ael had taught her daughter her past, her history, respect for her family, and the things she must never forget. If she listened closely, Mekara could almost hear the firm, dignified voice of her mother answering her own childish question about why she had stood up to the Praetorate. "Ahr'lhonaema ihirer hotaessraei hwiunaier iarr'voi ortaihkhevha na sienov." (It is cowardice to be reluctant to take up the sword for a just cause.)

Now, the years themselves could have proven that Mekara had sincerely sworn her oath to live the path of Mnhei-sahe. At her waist, next to the disruptor in its holster, antique sheathe held the knife that had accompanied Ael throughout her entire life, the famous honorblade that many had put a price on well-knowing that a Rihanha would never be separated from that blade while alive. It had never left Mekara since she first laced it to her belt, and its presence was as reassuring and comforting to her as it had been to her mother.

Finally, the path was less steep as the summit was reached, and the trees gave way to the sun. Stepping aside from the path, a quiet pool could be seen where the water was not yet in its outraged form before it reached the falls. Close to the water's edge was a tree, almost solitary. From its age, it seemed to have weathered many storms. Mekara slowly unwrapped the cloth bundle she had carried with her. As the heavy fabric unrolled, upon the blood-green background was stitched in precise, careful embroidery of the strong Rihannsu calligraphy, four letters in black and gold. Keeping her features calm, though she swallowed with difficulty, Mekara stepped forward in the last rite for the dead, according to thousands of years of tradition.

With the cords she had brought for the purpose, Mekara lashed the carefully wrought pennant to the tree, smiling sadly as the wind whipped it out to its full length. As the cloth flapped in the wind, she looked steadily at the four letters, blinking as if to keep back tears, even though physiologically crying was impossible for her. "My deepest apologies, mother. Many should be here...all those who clamoured for your death...all those who laid prices on your head... you truly were the t'liss, the bird-of-prey... when they attempted to cut your head off, your talons never released their death-grip on the necks of the corrupt ones." Mekara's voice was low and quiet, not breaking the splendid harmony of the beautiful scene, wild and untamed, dangerous in its own right.

Slowly, she drew herself to her full height, and spoke four words aloud...a name. "Ael." Her mother's character name, followed by her place name, then her House name, "t'Rllaillieu." At length, another, the name many people had known her as, "Jade." Finally, in a whisper that only the wind could hear...her mother's fifth name...the name so private that it was known only to her mother, her father, and lastly, herself. And then, in the time-honoured fashion of the Galae Fleet, Mekara saluted the pennant as it whipped in the wind, right hand palm out to view, then placed against the chest in a fist, followed by a curt bow.

And then... almost as she had come, Mekara turned...and walked away, down the path she had previously used, returning to her life and her active living out of the ways of her mother, as she would have wished. She suddenly closed her eyes, it had been as if once more in front of her she had seen the almost ageless beauty of her mother, black hair upswept around her head, green eyes brilliant in the light, and her final smile of approval upon the work of her daughter. The approval of the commander, for the centurion. The approval of a Rihanha, for a fellow Rihanha. Upon impulse, Mekara stopped and looked back, then unsheathed the honorblade at her waist and held it high. The sun glinted off the blade, then quickly she made a shallow cut across her left palm, only a few drops of blood on the blade before resheathing it. She had showed it to its owner for the last time...always remembering that the blade of honour must see blood before it was hidden again. Then... she returned to her path...leading to the future...to the stars... but always Mnhei'sahe.

That name-flag would stand for years...until after Mekara herself had begun a different journey... but one other had been a witness... padding silently out of the trees, the four-footed feline predatory vornskyr that had been Jade's pet for many years, won in a duel, stepped into a watchful place at the foot of the tree from which the flag hung. There, Selaya sat down on her hind legs, her poisonous whip-tail curled around herself, her long pointed ears twitching slightly, and her eyes gazing into the distance. Untamed, the predatory feline had had a strange acquaintance with her mistress...both of them alike in so many ways...untamed, deadly, restless...fighting... and so the vornskyr became the silent watcher...

Even though Jade herself was gone...Mnhei'sahe lived on, in the person of her daughter...and the others who had not succumbed to the quiet lies of the Praetorate...those who had risen... and joined the fight.

"Thei'nnaenahrat draaomel na leih, mrht p'tned-pra'krsh thei'mnyiekher draes mneihma'eyevha ihfvehkh'nra uae s'mnhei'sahe'hel." - Nnerhin tr'Liemha


("You may carry off from an army its commander, but you can never force the humblest man of virtue from his Mnhei'sahe." - Nnerhin tr'Liemha)

The humans have the legend of a strange bird, the Phoenix. Only seen once every hundred years, it dies in fire...but from its ashes, the new Phoenix is born...

Snow Day at BC!!!

Today when I woke up the sky was white, the ground was white, and snowflakes were thickly falling. I walked over to the door and saw that lovely thin slip of paper saying, "We are on a two-hour delay schedule." YAY! When I went to the cafeteria for breakfast, I was informed that all classes were canceled and the school was shut down. An even bigger, YAY!!! So now I have a day to get a lot of homework done. Thankfully, I have Statistics, reading for Dr. Kinney, and my projects... so I should be able to get a lot accomplished, provided of course that I stop typing on here and actually get to work. :)

This storm is supposed to get worse over the weekend and on into next week, so we are waiting to see what happens. I predict that in the future the popular scare will be "global cooling" as global warming is obviously not going on. You know, it is really amazing what people will believe. The bigger the lie, the easier it is to trust it, at least for some people. I've been talking to my friend, Jerry Frech, again and I realized how much I had missed the friendly debates we used to have. Sometimes it seems that people cannot see past their own immediate concerns. We forget there is a larger world out there. I wonder if this is just ignorance, or if people are so arrogant they simply don't care. And always, they turn to the government for the solution to whatever problems they are facing. Can people truly be that ignorant of the past? Unfortunately I believe the answer is yes. History is something that most Americans don't care about anymore. Why? Because if history is known then you have a standard by which to measure current events. With this standard it would become painfully obvious that our much-vaunted "progress" is a thinly veiled lie. It is in the best interests of many powerful parties that people are kept uninformed of reality...because if reality was known, people would be doing something as opposed to following the herd mentality. Or maybe they wouldn't... one can't underestimate the 'public.'

While researching for my current history projects, I realized that propaganda really hasn't changed much. It is absolutely astounding to me what people will say, and what others will believe. For instance, Soviet Prime Minister Molotov's statements about Soviet intentions during the Russo-Finnish Winter War... I was totally flabbergasted. Stuff like that can only be gotten away with because either people don't know, they don't care, or it doesn't fit with their political agenda.

Yet again, I find that in my struggle to turn out a very thorough research paper, I need a couple more books. What is particularly frustrating is that I have located them...but due to them being primary sources and out of print...the prices are a little spectacular. Though, when compared to the prices of modern textbooks, they look cheap by comparison and are of infinitely more value in the long run.

The more history I study, the more I realize how connected everything is. In some way or another, we are all affected to a degree by the changes in the world. This was most dramatically felt by Poland as the Allies kindly left it to the mercy of Germany and the USSR. Then, capitalistic Finland was left to the communist policies of the USSR by the other CAPITALIST countries. Why? In short, because the Allies wanted there to be a second front for a suspected future war against Germany. Towards the end of the war, the Allies were trying to prolong the fighting by promising aid to Finland that would not arrive in time to do anything, but would have the effect of getting Finland severely smashed by Russia. Thankfully, the Finns did what they had to and capitulated with Russia, signing a treaty that left them their national sovereignty.

I realize this post is rambling, hopefully my future blog posts will be much more cohesive. Today I merely wished to write. But now, the time has come for that notorious evil... STATISTICS homework. *sigh*

Greetings from Dublin!

Hello all. Currently traveling abroad in Ireland, Dublin to be precise. Tomorrow morning we head on up north to Belfast. So far, this has been a lovely trip. Navigating Dublin on foot is very exciting...one must cross roads agressively and not care whether one lives or dies. I find it invigorating. :D I have seen the GPO, short for General Post Office, and site of the last armed uprising in Ireland, at least to date. The people involved in the rebellion were then taken to Kilmainham Jail. Before that, we went to Trinity College and saw the Book of Kells and the Long Room. I shall post more details when I have the time, along with the histories and pictures. I just don't have that ability right now. (Though, these internet cafes are fascinating experiences.)

Today we went to Glendalough...an old monastic site. Did you know the name Kevin means handsome? It is the only European abbey with two entrance archways. Then we went to Powers Court Gardens in County Wicklow. Actually both places were in Wicklow. Most lovely lunch...potato soup with fennel and a slice of fresh bread... then lemon tart. Mmmmm. The Japanese Garden was breathtakingly beautiful...actually the whole place was. Dr. Watson has resolved to rework her landscaping. Haha!

Did you know the River Liffey splits Dublin in half, and it is tidal? The water level changes by fifteen feet usually. I think it's fascinating. By the way, before I forget... I saw an ancient diagram of Nelson's plan at Trafalgar in the Long Room at Trinity College.

Fragment of a Random Idea

This was a vague idea for a story that I had late one night as I was at a friend's house several months ago. Perhaps someday I'll get around to refining it and writing the actual history of the Ghostlings.

Long ago a star flashed in the sky and those who were outside lifted up their eyes in awe, watching its bright fiery trail as it streaked across the heavens before vanishing into the cold deadness of space. Not sure what the event they had just witnessed meant, the people of Datar huddled together in groups talking quietly. Months had gone by, rumors of ghostly beings far off in the unpopulated Southern Wood sometimes fell on the ears of curious listeners. But, these stories were neglected as fit only for children, or the mentally weak. Naughty young people would slip away from the eyes of their ever-watchful mothers to explore the forbidden forests. When they returned home excited childrens' voices told of seeing strange people floating gracefully among the trees, spinning in merry dances through the dark woods. 

"Mamma, I saw one! Those stories Fehren told us...they're true. They glow and--they looked like stars," the eager four year old's voice sank into a hushed whisper. Her mother shushed her as she put her daughter to bed, telling her to be a good girl, lest the darkness come for her. 

So, unknown to the Datarrans, the Ghostlings grew...a fairytale...or so we were told.

Long Time, No See...

Well, the summer has been long and busy and hard...but also rewarding. I will once again be writing presently for my blogs as I get my semester scheduled and arranged and everything. I've done a lot of reading...and hanging out with friends. Basically though I've been kept very busy with work. And now...the countdown till school has begun again. One week... See you all when I have time to write.

A Bit of Writing in Middle-Earth

Credit for creating Middle Earth and all the races and languages connected with it goes to J.R.R. Tolkien. This is set in the Fifth Age.

*The ancient harbor of the Eledhrim, or Eldar, had survived the changes of the passing ages of Middle Earth. The once bustling city was now relatively quiet. Subdued voices talked quietly as their owners pursued their business silently. The graceful style of High-Elven architecture had stood the test of time, remaining much the same as it had been. Of course, to a Lore Master like Aeroniel this was a reassuring sameness. To a wanderer it seemed almost deserted and rather sad. Most of the Eldar had departed Middle Earth at the end of the Fourth Age.

A tall, slender woman moved down the stone-paved street quietly. Her long earth brown dress was gathered closely to her waist by a belt of woven gold. A green cape hung over her shoulders and was clasped near her neck with a brooch of fine Elven manufacture. The light breeze ruffled her hair. In the distance the screech of seagulls sounded upon the ear, and as she walked out along the ancient wharf of the Grey Havens she looked up in the bright blue sky and watched the swooping, graceful flight of the seagulls. The sun shone down upon the water of the harbor, glinting of the tops of small waves and ripples. The salty ocean breeze was invigorating and in the distance, Aeroniel's pointed ears caught the sound of the ocean's waves booming along the shore.

It had been a long time since any of the famous silver, swan-ships departed for the land beyond the Sea from this city once guarded by Cìrdan the shipwright. He himself had left them many years ago, long before Aeroniel herself had been born. She walked to the end of the Wharf and stood there in silence, thinking about the changes that had come over this place, small and subtle though they were. It was beautiful. This place was truly her home. The soul of the quiet Elf was drawn to this place and held here as if by a magnet. No matter where she went, she always came back.

She reached up with one delicately shaped hand and brushed loose strands of her brown hair behind her ear. The wind had pulled them from the elegant coil at the nape of her neck. Quietly she sang to herself in a low melodic voice as she watched the sunrise over the harbor. The ancient beacons were still in their places as of old, to guide mariner's at night. A bell rang in the distance, its chime not really disturbing the city.*

*After watching the sunrise for a bit Aeroniel turned and walked quietly back down the wharf and along the street of the Elvish town of Mithlond, known to others as the Grey Havens. Her poise was balanced and her step graceful. She nodded in greeting to people as she passed them. Two young Elf children ran past her, laughing merrily as they raced toward the wharves. Aeroniel smiled to herself. Laughter was good. The sun was warm. She felt very alive.

Passing the town centre, she turned and walked down a side street to a stately edifice with finely sculpted eaves in the shape of swans. As she crossed under the archway and entered the quiet shade of the building she was acutely aware of the fact that she was now inside. The coolness of the ancient Library of the Mithlond Elves was in sharp contrast to the warm sun that had been beating down on her shoulders as she walked outside.

She looked about herself, making note of the thousands of scrolls and books carefully organized and placed upon shelves built into the walls by a master craftsman. Tall reading desks were scattered here and there on the main floor. Chairs were tastefully placed at strategic locations to catch the light. A breeze rustled through the building as the balconies and porches around it let in the fresh air. The flap of pages blowing in the wind fell upon her ears and she bent her steps in the direction of the sound. She picked up a book that was lying on the floor, its pages flapping in the wind. She glanced at it. The wind had blown it open to a drawing of the Last Homely House in Rivendell. She looked at it quietly. It had been awhile since she had left the Havens.

Deciding that she wished to travel freely for a bit and experience the freedom of roaming across the beautiful land of Middle Earth, she placed the book back in its place on a shelf that was over her head. She stretched lightly, reaching up to put it back. Then, humming quietly to herself she walked up the curving stairs that led to the second floor.*

*Moving gracefully through beams of light that shone in upon row after row of scrolls stored in a meticulous order, Aeroniel reached an out of the way corner that was her favorite nook in the library. A low chair stood next to a large open window, and on the floor a harp rested. It was a good-sized harp, but not so much so as to be a burden to carry. She knelt next to it and lovingly placed her harp inside its specially made bag for traveling. Standing up, she slung the strap over her shoulder and looking about herself, quietly glided down the long aisle past all the scrolls, down the steps, and out into the street which was by now in a fairly bustling state.

Bending her steps down the street, Aeroniel approached a low building from which the sounds of horses fell on her keen ears. She smiled and murmured a greeting to the stable-boy as she passed, reaching into a concealed pocket in her gown and tossing him an apple that she usually saved for him to give his favorite horse or eat himself as it suited him. Stepping into the building, she walked directly toward a largeish stall at the end, only glancing at the other horses in passing. A low nicker greeted her as she opened the gate and spoke quietly to her horse, Alagos. She always made the time to visit her and groom her carefully and a close relationship between the two was the result. 

Alagos' ears flicked forwards to catch the low voice of her mistress as she ran her hands through the mare's silky soft flowing gray mane. Aeroniel smiled, noticing that Alagos had sensed the excitement at this unusual change as her horse pranced in her stall on her shiny black hooves. After a moment or two of greeting, Aeroniel lightly jumped onto Alagos' dappled-grey back, riding bareback without a saddle as was the old custom of the Eledhrim. Nudging Alagos gently, they both moved out of the stable and into the street. The horse and rider moved quietly through the people on the street and headed out along the path leading to Rivendell. As they moved away from the heart of the town, the amount of people around them noticeably diminished. 

As the last sounds of the Elven port of Mithlond disappeared from Aeroniel's keen ears, she spoke quietly to Alagos and her horse responded instantly as the two of them flew across the wide plain at a fast run. Alagos mane and tail flowed in the wind, Aeroniel's long brown hair, loosened by the wind, fell from the coil she had placed it in and whipped into her face. Eventually they slowed to a walk that ate the ground away. Aeroniel laughed, a long rippling contagious sort of laugh and stretched her arms wide with the joy of being alive. The warm sun, the butterflies, the birds, the wind, the grass, the trees, the powerful horse...all these things seemed so very alive and full of hope. Aeroniel was happy and lighthearted. Her spirit soared on the wings of the wind, flying above merely earthly things. Being only 473 years old, the Elf was yet young as her people reckoned the passage of time. Horse and rider bent their steps towards the Last Homely House in Rivendell, once the home of Elrond Half-Elven, a person that Aeroniel had read much about. Her melodic voice was lifted in song in praise of Earendil as she and Alagos headed east towards their destination.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright, 2009

Correctional Theory?

As many of you know, I have been taking Introduction to Criminal Justice this semester. I find judicial processes interesting and I have enjoyed this class; however, some things bother me exceedingly. In particular, I am referring to Correctional Theory. This was the lecture topic this morning, following Monday's field trip to Red Onion, a super maximum security Federal prison. Correctional Theory has the goals of maintaining order, deterring, and rehabilitating convicted offenders in order to change their behavior patterns.

In class, people were discussing the trip and what they saw and their feelings in response to the experience. Dr. Farmer was also talking about many of the prison procedures and what they are intended to accomplish. During this, I became even more upset. For a long time I have had problems with the fundamental idea behind prisons as a method of punishment for criminals. Today though, I am disturbed enough to the point where I need to talk about it.

On a presuppositional level, prisons go against God's Law. In the Bible, prisons were used as a holding tank until judgment could be passed. Hence, prisons themselves were not a form of punishment per se. The point here was for restitution and reconciliation. Things were to be made right between the person offended and the person committing the offense. If a person stole twenty dollars, he was to return twenty dollars (plus a bit more depending on some other circumstances) to the person he stole from. This meant that the victim was recompensed instead of never seeing his money again. Today, the thief would go to court, possibly jail, and the victim not only never sees his money again, but ALSO has to pay taxes to maintain the jail for the thief to reside in. In essence, he is stolen from twice.

Even more than this, I am furious with the idea that man can "play God" and attempt to rehabilitate criminals into upstanding persons. Humans are not animals. We are created in the image of God. Large prisons run the "Pavlov's Dog" experiment on the inmates on an expanded scale. Conditioning is used to train people to stay away from this or that. Life sentences! All these prisons take hard earned money from us to maintain facilities to keep offenders. People don't understand why others commit crime. Have they never heard of sin? These actual crimes are only manifestations, or symptoms, of a deep-rooted heart problem.

Now, I realize that some will argue that Biblical law principles are harsh. This often comes from Exodus 21:24 where it is written, "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot." This is again quoted by Jesus in Matthew 5. The argument runs something along the lines of "So if someone steals then you cut off their hand?!?!?! That's not right! That's terrible!" What people don't bother to do is read the entire passages. These statements are taken out of context and misunderstood. In these verses, God is putting in place the Maximum Penalty for any given crime. If someone accidentally injured another person's eye, causing him to lose his sight, then the injured person would put a price on his eye. The offender would try to make restitution for the offense. How much was the eye worth? The victim would decide this. He would name a price, or work, or some way that the offender could make right what he had done. The victim was not allowed to demand MORE than an eye in payment for his own eye. SO, if the offender decided that he could not pay the price named by the injured man, he would let his own eye be injured. There are no instances that we know of, of this actually having to be used. The purpose of this was to say, thus far you may go in demanding repayment, no farther. Again, the point here was not to get revenge, but for reconcilation to take place between both parties and the former relationship to be restored. The whole concept of reconciliation between offender and offended party is completely ignored by our correctional system.

One may wonder, how do people misunderstand the "eye for an eye" passages? Well...they don't understand the context or the principles and precepts involved. Secondly, they mistake this for something else. The Q'ran and Shari'a Law. According to the laws of Mohammed, if someone Steals, his hand is to be cut off. The penalties just get worse from there. This is blatantly unbiblical. However, Allah never claimed to be a merciful god. Removing one's hand removes one's ability to make an honest living. And this is the Minimum penalty, unlike the law of God where actual injury of a limb or body part was the highest, and final resort. The God of the Bible is Merciful, Forgiving, Loving, Just, and Holy. Allah is referred to in the Q'ran as the "Possessor of Men's Necks." Throughout the Q'ran, references are continually made of the severe penalties to be brought to bear on those who do not believe or on those who fall away from Allah. This is a punishment driven faith. Islam and Christianity are, at their very roots, antithetical to each other. (And this is but a bare scratching of the surface on one issue.)

The Correctional Theory, at heart, holds fast to the idea that humans are on the level of animals. Man in his almighty pride can train others into the "real man." Through conditioning, Utopia can be brought about. Again...this is a symptom of where we are at as a culture. Godless. Irreverent. Ungrateful. Selfish. Greedy. We cannot just deal with the symptoms. The real disease must be faced. Until men again fear God, there will not be a real decrease in crime rates. It has been proven that criminals, after serving prison time, enter the real world again...and often go back to crime. Prisons are a deterrent to law-abiding people. This is similar to gun control laws: they just take the means of defense out of the hands of people who obey the law. Gun control laws announce to other people, "Hey! No one here can defend themselves." Have you ever wondered why the media doesn't talk about attempted school shootings? Because it proves them wrong. Because the gunmen were stopped By People Who Had Guns. The weapon itself is not bad. How it is used determines that. For instance...look at water. It is necessary for life, yet in too much water people drown. Can we have some water control laws please?

Prisons are an unreal environment. Despite all the conditioning, it does not fit offenders for an honest career outside its walls. You can change the icing on the cake all you want, but it won't change the cake! In spite of anything man has done, God never gave us leave to treat each other without dignity and reduce our fellow men to the level of animals. Not to mention, how just is it to take our tax money to support these people in prison? Make restitution for more minor events...make judicious use of the death penalty for those crimes that deserve it. At the very least, it eliminates repeat offenses. In history, people were executed publicly. Why? Because it was a SEVERE deterrent to others. No one wanted to end up in that position. Statistically here in America, crime rates have grown as the death penalty was removed. How is pardoning the offender showing justice or mercy to the offended?

Ael's Past - Her Pet Mogai, Eshae

Here I am again with a bit more about Ael. This is from a conversation in which she was recalling her childhood pet. The mogai is a t'liss, or bird-of-prey, similar to our peregrine falcon. All of what I have here is written in rough form...enjoy. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Jade chuckled quietly, the green light in her eyes dancing.*

"Yes, there were times I wished you had never been born, or at least, never come to the council..."

*She wondered to herself if the ruling beings really did have a sense of humor because it this case they certainly seemed to. She was far from wishing him dead. I must have been so blinded with prejudice that I never even gave him a chance to speak for himself when circumstances and honor seemed to condemn his actions. She frowned slightly. She did not appreciate it when her personal opinions clouded her judgment in such a fashion. She had always tried to live honorably, even when...dishonor seemed to be her fate. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line as she was thinking, the recollection of her past behavior vexed her exceedingly. She looked over at him suddenly as he asked her about the scars on her wrist...he obviously had sharp eyes. She paused a moment, thinking, how I got these scars and the situation...was in so many ways almost a forewarning of what happened to me later... She smiled, and began speaking, though at times she had to pause and remember. Much of her childhood had become dimmer, dreamlike, as her life flew past and events occured...many of them of such a nature to cause other memories to fade. He was also fast, she hadn't let her sleeve fall quickly enough. She was surprised that she would even have wondered about it when he was around.*

"I...was forgetful. Back when I was very young on ch'Rihan I had a pet t'liss...this would be similar to the peregrine falcon of the humans' old world from many years ago. I think I was about eight... I was walking in the woods a long way from home, and I heard a huge squawking and hisses as if there was some sort of animal fight nearby. Of course I wanted to know what it was, so I went to look and I found a young mogai that seemed to have somehow fallen from its nest. One of its wings was broken and it was surrounded by five or six other t'liss of its kind that looked to be about the same age. With the mogai..when one is wounded...the others cannibalize it. But the thing that held my attention was the wounded bird...it wouldn't stop fighting...even when it was set upon by those of its own species. It had a broken wing, and it still wouldn't give up..."

*She paused a few seconds, glancing back at the seagulls flying over the water, then continued speaking, eventually looking back at Nyyrikki.*

"The t'liss is a warrior bird. And something about that one called to me...inside...you know? It defended itself tooth and claw...I thought, why should such a brave bird die like this? And so, I spoke to it...and slowly reached out toward it...I only wanted to help. It scratched me a bit, it had very sharp claws...but I took my prize home and spoke to one of the old warriors that stayed on my family's lands...he taught me how to take care of it. And when its wing was healed, he showed me how to train it. Over time...the mogai became my shadow...Eshae, I called him...Fierce. We would wander for long times together...spending nights under the stars in the desert...or on the mountains... But, some people from my school were jealous...and one of them distracted Eshae, provoking him...and this caused him to fly off... I did not want to lose him, so I did not even stop to grab my thick left glove that we use when hunting with t'liss, so when I did finally call him back to me, as he landed in his accustomed perch on my arm his sharp talons dug deeply into my wrist. He did not know he hurt me...I didn't feel it at the time, I was simply glad Eshae was back...he was my best friend, always with me. I had him for many years... When I got back home I had to sneak to my room because if my mother had seen all the blood, she would have killed Eshae."

*Realizing that she had been talking for quite awhile about something that really didn't matter much, she lapsed into silence, still thinking. The deep cuts had hurt later, particularly when she was cleaning them, but then, the tightly wrapped bandage looked almost like the wrist wraps they occasionally wore in her fighting school, so it had escaped more than a casual glance and she had refused to act like anything hurt. She sighed, and then laid on her back with her hands crossed under her head as she looked up at the Nabooine constellations. Her Force sense was greatly heightened, as she did not want to be caught by surprise, however relaxed she might appear. She looked over at Nyyrikki Tuoni apologetically.*

"My apologies...forgive me for rambling. I'm afraid I forced you to listen to rather more than you wished to. Eshae meant a lot to me...in some ways...how I found him reminds me of what happened to me in the following years...set upon by my own kind as well. But...I don't think many others would understand this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright, 2009

Idea for my Rihannsu Story

I realize that I haven't posted anything in a very long time, so here is a VERY rough excerpt from something I am working on writing. This will be changed a lot before my final draft...years in the future. For instance...the Jedi Arc... That is one possible way to take this character, but I am thinking of getting rid of that and making this a complete Rihannsu novel. I have used ideas created by others, namely Gene Roddenberry and Diane Duane (my favorite Rihannsu writer). As I said, this is only in its birthing stages and is in the process of being morphed into something very different. However, this is mainly for my own enjoyment...please do not copy/paste this and distribute it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This will be unlike anything you have felt before, and most likely will feel slightly invasive, but I give you my word I will not hurt you."

Her foreign accent became much thicker as she thought of what she was about to do. Ael looked away for a moment, her pointed ears and delicately upward curving eyebrows becoming obvious to anyone looking, since she had removed her hooded cloak. Mentally bracing herself for what was to come she stepped toward Vin-Tiale, slowly raising her right hand. She placed ice cold fingers against his temple, sending her consciousness looking for his. Swiftly she found what she was looking for. As he involuntarily resisted her presence, she sent him calming thoughts and waited until he was ready before proceeding further. No one ever adapted to this easily and for some it was much harder than others.

Nothing happened at first. Then Vin-Tiale's mind self began seeing images flash before his eyes. Conversations. Ael's past. A young girl, brought up to a life of hardship. Extensive combat training beginning at age five. She walked into a large room, mirrors on the walls, feeling very small. Her mother's words echoing in her mind, "You are a Rihanha of House Illialhlae, no matter what happens you will not show fear." She swallowed hard. A stern veteran warrior of a past generation walked in. She bowed. He yelled for her to perform the first form of llaekh aer'l. Panic! "Ie, ennarain." Swiftly she did as she was ordered, thanking the Elements for the old gardener of her family, he used to serve in the great fleet. All those lessons she had tried to get out of... Eventually, the old ennarain became her good friend. Little Ael smiled as she stepped forward on that last day, the example of her proud master, showing his class how it was to be done. Training...always training...for years that was her life. The first day she used a katana... The day she killed a t'liss with a throwing knife. The day she outshot all challengers.The discovery that she was mentally talented was quickly followed by a four year period when she vanished to all others and learned the mental disciplines by heart...how to kill...how to heal...

As was custom, she joined the Imperial Fleet, Galae Division. Living the Way of D'era. Following the strict dictates of mnhei'sahe. The Ruling Passion...having to give your last drop of water to a starving enemy...watching a friend die... But that was life. Eventually the day came. At 21 she was given her first, and last, command. Dark black hair, brilliant green eyes, considered a beauty among the Rihannsu, always honorable, she walked proudly onto the bridge of a middle-aged t'liss warship. The Bloodwing. Hers. Her old khre'Rhiov stood in the middle of the bridge with something dark in his hand. A door on the opposite side slid open: accompanied by his bodyguard, Emperor Shiarkiek walked on board amidst the bows of everyone around. Her mouth falling open, she quickly saluted in the old style. Standing tall in front of him, she pledged the old oath, to serve the people. Her commander stepped forward and gave her the honorblade that had been forged for her. That was only the beginning of her career. As the Senate and Praetorate became increasingly corrupt and greedy the old ways disappeared. The outer trappings of mnhei'sahe became ever more visible. Days of celebration... But true honor died. People walked in fear. Words were few and guarded. One wrong word...and people vanished...never seen again. The fear of the Tal Shiar was everywhere...Mission after mission was a resounding success. Her crew loyal to the death. Her Eaglets...her children...

Returning home, she found her family had arranged her marriage to a rich Senator. Aerikh... Corrupt, greedy, selfish, cruel...a villain of the deepest dye. Shame... Even now she furiously wiped her hand across her mouth, shivering violently. He left...she never saw him after that. She returned to her ship. Later she had a son, Tafv. When he grew up he was her right hand on the Bloodwing. Always by her side. Ael was too popular for her own good. She spoke for honor, critizing the Senate and Praetors. Calling them back to their duty. Long dangerous episodes followed. Her cousin, Ssaedhe, who was like her, disappeared. Months later she learned that Ssaedhe had been executed as an example to those who disapproved of the new way of life.

Coming back to ch'Rihan she was arrested and carried off by the Tal Shiar. Then she was taken to the Senate and tried for treason against the Rihannsu people. The Empty Throne...the s'Harien. The ancient symbol of all that was Rihannsu. Little did she know how he would change her life. Condemned to die, she heard a disturbance outside and knowing that her eaglets had come for her she leapt to the throne and snatched up the ancient sword. Cutting her way through those who opposed her, she reached her crew and escaped in the Bloodwing. A couple years later the government tried to appease her wrath and lure her back. It was revealed that her son had betrayed her the first time. As they were attacked by other Rihannsu warships that the government claimed were "renegade" her ship was boarded and she and several of her crew were taken captive. Deeply wounded, yet her crew was still on their feet, except Tafv...she knew he was dying. Looking into her eyes he begged her as his mother to forgive what he had done and give him the Final Honor. Eventually she acquiesed. After a hard fight, her surviving crew made it back to the Bloodwing.

Later still, nominally reconciled with the government at a distance, she was ordered to the boundary to defend against an expected attack. Six D'deridex class Rihannsu warships dropped out of cloak and surrounded the old Bloodwing. She knew then that the Praetorate had sent them to die far from any witnesses. Not just her...but her crew. They fought well, but were dreadfully outnumbered. Shields down, weapons depleted...crippled, and about to die. Her crew looked at her, loyalty in their eyes. Aidoann stepped forward, bowed, and said she had been appointed by the crew to tell her that "it is an honor to have fought at your side, and it is a yet greater honor to have been counted worthy to die at your side." Tears in her eyes, she looked back at them, "My Eaglets, we have been sent to die by a corrupt people. We have lived for honor, now let us die for it. Let us make such an end as will announce us to the other world. We will take as many of them with us as we can. Helm, ramming speed!" Reaching down, she lovingly stroked the sword that now was always at her side. And watched as her world ended...or so she thought...Blackness followed.She woke on an unknown planet. The Jedi took her into their Temple on Coruscant and trained her. Through the years she worked hard, eventually earning the title of Grand Master and taking her seat on the Council. That too ended after a time. She was restless. Her best friends had left one by one. Some never to return. The once hopeful warrior had indeed been tried by fire. Her black hair, now was snow white, making her appear much older than before, the fire in her eyes did not die, the softness in her face had vanished, replaced with the deadly elegant lines resembling the t'liss. She locked emotion away as she had been taught. Eventually, another man came...one like no other. He shared her devotion to honor, he understood her like no other. He made her feel like she could actually live and laugh, and forget care for a time. She looked up to him, respected him, even....but he too disappeared, and she grew tired and sick at heart wondering if he would ever come back. Or if he had forgotten her completely. She chided herself for weakness and sank farther into an icy state of emotionlessness. Her old teachers would be proud.

Now...yet again...she must build her life from the ground up. Yet again, having painfully been smashed to the floor, struggling to learn that she must depend on herself alone. No others. Everyone she had ever cared about ...disappeared. Now...she had several goals in view. Vin-Tiale knew she was a governor for him, but she was also employed elsewhere, and hard at work. Deciding that he had seen enough, she began pulling back, separating her mind from his, drawing her memories back to herself. Eventually she opened her eyes, and removing her hand from his face, wiped her arm quickly across her own to get rid of the tears before he sees them. She turned and sat down at an unoccupied table with her back towards him. Her voice strangely hard and rough, speaking with effort, "Now you know. Not all of course. But the gist, if you will. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

She waved at the bartender to bring her another ale. When he did she nodded and took it, quickly drinking half of the fire-blue liquid and coughing slightly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright, 2009

British Literature Assignment

This was my latest assignment in class. We were supposed to take part of the epic poem "Beowulf" and rewrite it. The assignment was left open in order to give us a lot of freedom and opportunity to exercise our creativity however we wanted to. This is an Old English epic about the evil monster Grendel who walked the earth in the night slaying the Danes as they slept in the mead hall. Beowulf rallied his men (from Geatland) and sailed across the sea in order to challenge Grendel and rid the friends of his father of the menace lying over their land. Here is the section that I chose to rewrite; although, I did draw on the rest of the epic for context and information, and the formatting of the blog is not conducive to reproducing the section of the epic:

"The Hero Comes To Heorot"

     "So that troubled time continued, woe that never stopped, steady affliction for Halfdane's son, too hard an ordeal.  There was panic after dark, people endured raids in the night, riven by the terror.

     "When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac's thane was on home ground, over in Geatland.  There was no one else like him alive.  In his day, he was the mightiest man on earth, highborn and powerful.  He ordered a boat that would ply the waves.  He announced his plan: to sail the swan's road and seek out that king, the famous prince who needed defenders.  Nobody tried to keep him from going, no elder denied him, dear as he was to them.  Instead, they inspected omens and spurred his ambition to go, whilst he moved about like the leader he was, enlisting men, the best he could find; with fourteen others the warrior boarded the boat as captain, a canny pilot along coast and currents."

And this is my telling of this part of the story.  I chose to write in first person, from the perspective of a Norse warrior of the time.

In Geatland, I was raised by a race of great men, warriors all.  Time passed, and I grew strong in the fight and skilled with the great axe, a weapon feared by all my foes.  We would go out and hunt, bringing back food for the women and children.  Long would be the feasts in the mead-hall, merry voices made sweet with wine would be raised in songs praising our prince, the noble Beowulf.  I had always listened to the tales of the bards, and many hours I spent in the company of grizzled veterans who had returned from many glorious campaigns.  Little did I think that the time would ever come that I, a simple warrior, would be given the great honor of fighting by the side of our prince in what would surely be a struggle of most epic proportions handed down through the songs of traveling harpers and whispered from mother to child around the fire at night.

Rumors had long been passing through our country.  Sailors would bring back stories.  Their eyes would be starting from their heads with fear.  We laughed at the pitiful cowards.  But the stories kept spreading, tales of a dark threat, a menace traveling over the far-off land of a friend to our king.  A nameless fear that carried off many strong men at a time and slaughtered them was decimating the population of the land.  At first, I paid no attention.  Rumor is after all just that, rumor, and scared people do not have the clearest minds in reporting their tales.  Then, one day that changed.  Suddenly those rumors became very important to me.

Appearing in our village, surrounded by his picked men, stood our prince delivering an impassioned speech to a marketplace crowded with my friends.  All the people I had known from my youth, we stood there.  A great hush was over us.  The only sound that fell on our listening was his voice.  Beowulf.  He was clad in full battle armor with a great two-handed broadsword slung across his back, telling us of one, Grendel, who was responsible for the terror of the sailors spreading rumors through our land.  His friends were being attacked and slain.  The number of mutilated corpses was climbing rapidly.  No one seemed to be able to put a stop to the havoc caused by this one monster. 

I looked around.  I saw my comrades standing there with fires kindled in their eyes.  I felt the excited spirit that flowed through the multitude.  And then, our great prince ended his speech with a question.  Not one of us looked away from him.  Our eyes were riveted on his face.  "Which of you will take up his sword and follow me?"  Silence filled the marketplace as he finished speaking.  Then, with one great warcry, the men of Geatland stepped forward as one.

And thus the men of Geatland boarded their great longships and set out across the sea.  We followed Beowulf, our hero.  We did not stop to think that perhaps few of us would return.  None of us reckoned what might be the possible cost.  None of us knew exactly what lay ahead.  We knew only one thing.  We would follow our prince to the gates of hell itself if he would but lead the way.

And now I see so many ways I could improve this.  As it is written here, this is the draft I turned in for the assignment.  LOL.  *sighs*  I suppose that will come later...

My Two Favorite Bible Verses

My brother keeps telling me I should post more, so here I am. Last week before an extremely hectic college semester starts. I have been in a very contemplative mood lately. Sort of distressed you might say. And this reminds me why my two favorite Bible verses are my favorite Bible verses.

"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose" ~Rom 8:28

"Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to cast some of you into prison, that you may be tested, and you will have tribulation ten days. Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life." ~Rev 2:10

The verse from Romans reminds me that no matter how bleak life may appear, that God is working all of this for good. That there is a purpose to everything that hurts me now.

The verse from Revelation was Lady Jane's favorite verse and that was originally why I liked it, but over time, it has come to mean a lot to me personally. It is full of hope to draw me onward, and also reminds me of what awaits those who do not persevere. Being a Christian is not easy. The past two months have taught me this. The past week has really brought the lesson home. The crown of life is only given to those who make it to the end. The hope of that crown draws me onward. The fear of not persevering keeps me from looking back.

Both of these verses combined keep me from thinking that God takes pleasure in the pain of His people. From thinking that God is sitting up in heaven just trying to see how much pain I can handle. I remember that He is in control. What happens to me has been planned. With this in view...while I might be crying inside, I can face the world with a smile. Through the grace of God.

The Ten Commandmests (Concert-Goer's Version)

I.   Thou shalt hearken unto the music with all thine heart, with all thine soul, and all thine mind. To aid thee in thy endeavour study thou thy program notes and hereby be sore fully prepared to garner the blessings of the inspired melodies which are about to be sounded.

II.   Thou shalt not arrive late, for the stir of thy coming disturbeth those who didst come in due season; neither shalt thou rush forth as a great wind at intermission time or before the end of the program; nor shalt thou trample to thy left nor thy right the ushers or the doormen or the multitudes that are about thee.

III.  Thou shalt keep in check thy coughings and thy sneezings for they are an abomination, and they shall bring forth evil execrations upon thee and thy household, even unto the third and fourth generations.

IV.   Thou shalt not rustle thy program for the noise thereof is not as the murmur of the leaves of the forest, but brash and raucous and soothest not.

V.    Thou shalt not "yahoo" unto thy relatives, nor to thy friends, nor to any member of they lodge or of thy household, nor to any of thy neighbors.

VI.   Thou shalt not whisper, for thy mouthings, howsoever hushed they may be, bring discord to the ears of those who sit about thee.

VII.  Thou shalt not chew gum with great show of sound or motion. Remember that thou art not as the kind of the meadow who doth chew the cud in the pastoral serenity which is vouchsafed them.

VIII.Thou shalt not direct thy index finger at persons of public note and say unto thy neighbor, "Yonder goeth so and so," but reflect that some day thou shalt perchance be a celebrity, and thou shalt be in great discomfort when thou art pointed at, and thou shalt not be pleased one jot or tittle thereby.

IX.   Thou shalt neither slumber nor sleep, for in thy stupor thou hast ears and heareth not; peradventure thou possesseth a rumbling bass obligato when thou sleepeth, and verily, the rabble may be aroused thereby to do thee grievous harm.

X.    Thou shalt not become a self-ordained music critic and with booming voice comment garrulously about the players or the playing; neither shalt thou hum, or tap thy foot; for thou hast come as a listener and a lover of music, not as a critic nor as a performer, and remember that none among the multitudes hast paid admission to hear thy hummings or thy tappings or to listen unto thine opinion.

Yia sou, Calimera. Bongiorno. Guten morgen. I will be putting up some pictures from my recent trip overseas as well as talking about the culture in Italy and Greece. But for now, may I just say that I am overjoyed to be done with this semester? I'll miss my friends of course, but I am ready to go home for Christmas Break. Still...between going home and me lies the horrific adventure of DORM CLEANING and CHECKOUT! UGH. So...yeah, I will have to take care of all that, not to mention pack my clothes and stuff. Also, this Saturday night we are celebrating my birthday and the Tobelmanns and Sprakers are coming over. I am very excited in contemplating this. And then...all the Christmas festivities...I think the family has saved some of the decorating for me. I like the whole Christmas atmosphere at home...I think it is the cosiest time of the year.

This morning I had my Speech final and it only took me twenty minutes to complete. I didn't even study for it. And I got my grade back on my last speech. A! Yes...finally. Dr. Bascom does not believe in As, at least not for the first two speeches. She said that if she gave students As on the first speeches that they didn't think they needed to improve anything at all. Hence, she doesn't give students As on the first two speeches, unless they are absolutely flawless. This annoyed me very much to the point of great discouragement with her class. But, now it is over and I am looking forward to next semester.

First Post...on my Birthday...

So..yeah, I'm twenty...in the old tweens. And it feels kind of weird. I'm all by myself at school and it's a winter wonderland outside. I'm getting peoples' Christmas presents ready, and singing along with Christmas music.