Nose Picking: Is It A Sin?

Sara broke the news to me the other day that picking your nose can make you sick - not because you get germs on your fingers, but because you get germs in your nose, the ultimate make-out spot for them. Now, I was really resistant to believe her, so I posed this proposterous proposition to another friend of mine who confirmed what she had said. So it has to be true.

First of all, I have to wonder if the benefit outweighs the consequence here (could you endure two colds a year for countless hours of picking your nose).

Second of all, if picking your nose ultimately harms "your temple," is it a sin? It's snot listed as one in the Bible, but I'd think anything that potentially damages your body is sinful. If it is a sin to pick your nose, is it still even if you wash your hands before and after doing the deed? I'm not sure I'd go on picking my nose (if that were indeed a habit of mine) if I had to wash up before and after. And what if you do it in moderation? And is shaking hands a sin? That can cause illness. Maybe that's why we're supposed to greet each other with a holy kiss. Did Jesus pick His nose?

GAH! Can I not even pick my nose without feeling guilty? What are your thoughts on this?

At any rate, here are some facts and illustrations you may or may not know about colds and cold viruses, along with some commentary:

Cold viruses grow mainly in the nose where they multiply in nasal cells and are present in large quantities in the nasal fluid of people with colds.

The highest concentration of cold virus in nasal secretions occurs during the first three days of infection. This is when infected persons are most contagious.

Cold viruses may at times be present in the droplets that are expelled in coughs and sneezes.

Nasal secretions containing cold viruses contaminate the hands of people with colds as a result of nose blowing, covering sneezes, and touching the nose.Also, cold viruses may contaminate objects and surfaces in the environment of a cold sufferer.

Young children are the major reservoir of cold viruses and a particularly good source of virus containing nasal secretions. (This is why you should NOT have children. Very dangerous.)

Experiments have demonstrated that a cold virus readily transfers from the skin and hands of a cold sufferer to the hands and fingers of another person during periods of brief contact. Also, cold viruses readily transfer to the hands as a result of touching contaminated objects and surfaces.

(This is the sad part:)
Virus on the fingers is transferred into the nose and eye by finger-to-nose and finger-to-eye contact. Virus deposited in the eye promptly goes down the tear duct into the nose. Once in the nose, a cold virus is transported by mucociliary action to the adenoid area where it starts a cold. In some instances, cold virus, which is expelled into the air in coughs and sneezes, may land in the nose or eye and cause infection.

The end.

Pretty Much the Best Soccer Player Ever

No big deal, I just scoredthis Saturday. The diagram should explain it all. This whole other player (the one with a number 1 beside him) on my team shot at the goal. The defense (number 2) blocked the ball and it came rolling back to me(number 3). So I gave a little kickaroo and it went the only place in front of my foot that it could possibly go - into the goal. But I accepted all the high fives that came around to me and even did a little jump/cheer. Might as well enjoy it, right? Could be my only goal ever. And that is why I blog about it. So yeah, we lost the game 2-1, but for me, personal victory. MVP. ...Oh and don't be jealous of my mad illustration skills.

Paranoid Android

I finally got around to watching "A Beautiful Mind." For those of you who are five years behind like me, the premise is this: A brilliant, socially awkward mathemetician who teaches at a university, falls in love and becomes a victim in a high-stakes government-ordered mission, loses his grip on reality as paranoid schitzophrenia progressively invades his mind. The guy totally mixes fantasy and reality, okay? I'm talking, he makes up people and plots. The whole movie left me wondering if I was really experiencing reality. Was Nadege really sitting on the couch? Was she real? Is her boyfriend real? Are my parents still alive or am I just having these phone conversations with myself? Maybe I'm making up my entire reality. Maybe everyone is. Maybe everyone lives in his/her own world alone and it makes us so crazy we just start making people up!

Free as a Cat

When I think about work, I feel like Blitzcat. Two years ago, I picked him up from the pound. I wanted kittens, but he won me over when he stretched out in my lap on his enormous back. Just this big black fluffy ragdoll in my lap. So I took him home, changed his name from Elvis and got his new name engraved on his gold pendant.

Everything was fine til he bit me. Frequently and aggressively. He bit all my friends, too. Fortunately, he only drew blood when he bit the men. So I was thinking he must've been abused, and probably by a man. I got him the kitten you will see below (who is now a cat) to make him happy, but he hated her, so I gave her to my neighbor.

I guess the turning point came this past Christmas, when I hauled him and this other cat, Lana, to my parents' house in Fort Worth for a week. My guess is that he started trusting that I wasn't going to hurt or abandon him.

Since then, he's been himself, and wow, what a sweet animal. I mean yeah, he still throws litter out of the box and shreds the catfood bag and crawls around in the kitchen drawers and runs from me when I try to bring him back inside, but he snuggles (a little too much if you ask me), nuzzles and purrs and generally seems more...free. And he stopped biting, except those sweet love bites.

I see this as my Fort Worth visit, like I'm about to relax and trust that it's all gonna be okay.

Cuz when you work for the state, you're under tight watch. You have set hours for arrival, lunch and departure. Business casual, clock your hours. So setting my own boundaries is totally unnatural for me. For example, I arrived to work an hour later than usual this morning, but instead of just showing up like everyone else and working my own hours, I felt led to send my boss an e-mail about it last night. And leaving lunch without announcing it or being in a hurry? Forget it! I'm used to accounting for my time and scarfing down my food. Now, during lunchtime, I just stay in my office and eat at my desk because I don't know how not to be on a schedule.

Why am I afraid of this freedom? Am I afraid I'll streak through the office or sit at home all day if left to my own devices? It seems somehow similar to the way that people often stick to the legalities of religion rather than accepting the freedom Christ gives them. Some people just need boundaries...until, like Blitzcat, they just trust it.

Basically, this is a new perspective I'm seeing. I like it, and I know I'll get used to it eventually. I know I'll stop biting people and throwing up hairballs. And knowing, as they say, is half the battle.

See how Blitzcat peacefully eats next to the same little kitty cat he used to hide from?

And look! He even likes dogs!

The Shins: Changing Lives

"They'll change your life, I swear." Natalie Portman's character on the movie "Garden State," concerning the band The Shins, who I saw with Nadege Friday night. No big deal. But contrary to Natalie's belief, I must say they didn't end up changing my life unless you think change means jogging happy down the streets or jumping around at a concert.

See how happy we are? Note to...anyone who is concerned about my questionable hand gesture: I do not worship Satan, nor do I promote the worship of Satan. The goat head has become a staple hand position in Austin, home of the Longhorns. I fall to it naturally. Oh man, I've got to get out of this evil city.

I digress. As usual.

The following picture needs no introduction, but I'll give it one anyhow. It is of the stage.


I couldn't see very well because, well, I'm not that tall, but when I finally saw the lead singer of The Shins, I was surprised. I don't know why so many people assume that a good musician is going to look like someone out of a boy band, but we do, so I did, and he doesn't.


It was a good show. Realll good show.

You Choose ACL. I Choose Life.

Top ten things I won't miss about Austin City Limits Music Festival:
10. My makeup running down to my chin.
9. Standing behind 50 people in the water line so I can fill up my two allowed water bottles.
8. Paying $10 for a turkey leg.
7. The emotional roller coaster of deciding which band to watch (because the really good bands play at the same time at different stages).
6. Port-a-potties
5. Eating, breathing, snorting, being bathed in, dust from the stampede of fans.
4. Tasting the hair of the person in front of me.
3. Long hikes back and forth across Zilker.
2. Waiting in line to be sprayed for five seconds by a fine mist.
1. Lying spread eagle on my back in the one remaining inch of shade from the only tree at the park.

Austinites who live in the central part of the city are pretty much stacked up and smooshed together like, I don't know, bales of hay in a barn. But we've got this careful, tight, working little system of transportation and facility use.

The ACL Festival is quite an upset to the system, arriving much like a rock thrown in the middle of an ant bed. There's nothing we can do about it but diligently work around it until it goes away. It's here this weekend, so for the past week, nobody has been able to jog around the lake. No one has been able to practice on the practice fields at Zilker Park. And traffic is crawling even more slowly than usual.

And can I say that even though there are some really rad artists playing, like Tom Petty, Massive Attack, The Shins (shall I go on?), I'm staying home. (Actually, I saw The Shins last night, so I'm not really suffering, am I?) I've been to ACL three times. Last year I decided I'd had enough. Because "You don't have to live like a refugee."

If you brave the transporation storm alone, you will likely park two miles from the festival and walk in the 100-degree weather. That's not so bad until you have to walk back in the 100-degree weather after having the day I am about to describe. If you decide to take a bus, you will wait in line with hundreds of other festi-attendees, cram into seats and get your sweat on before arriving at the park.

When you arrive and find the stage where you want to be for the next two hours, you either worm your way in to the front part of the sticky crowd or you hang back and watch the band on screens (and hear both their music and the music coming from another stage). The actual concert is pretty fun, but afterwards, you join this huge stampede to the next headliner show. Or you can just wait at the same stage for the next band to come on. Let me illustrate why this isn't a good decision.

Two years ago, my friends Eric and Amanda wanted to see Dashboard Confessional (mostly Amanda because she's pretty much a punk kid). So we fought our way to the front-ish. We got pelted on our heads with empty water bottles, but we stuck it out because Modest Mouse was playing next and we wanted our spots. After the concert, we decided to sit down amidst the crowd. In the dirt. For an hour. I've never felt so disgusting in my entire life. We had dirt on our faces, in our hair, on our clothes...we were thirsty, sweaty, extremely hot...I had short hair at the time, and it blew up like cotton candy. It was nothing Modest Mouse could repair.

Last year, I wore cut-off shorts, a tank top and tennis shoes (for all the walking and being stepped on). Because I couldn't sit down due to my sticky shorts, and because my shoes were making me about 10 degrees hotter than I would've otherwise been, I had to go to one of the vendor booths and buy a sarong and flip flops just so some air would circulate around my body.

I'm getting hot, sticky and tired just thinking about it. Neighbor Nadege is already there. Cassie's getting ready. I'm probably going to go swimming in an ice cold pool for free. Oh, and did I mention the tickets range from $50 a day to $130 for three days? Yeah.

Seeking Fans

Looks like Sara and I aren't the famous bloggers we once thought we were.

When I started my blog, I was checking out my site meter, which tells the location of people who view your page. I had several hits from someone using a state of Texas server. Legislative council, I think it was. So I thought someone who worked in the capitol was religiously reading my blog - perhaps to the point of obsession. It was kind of exciting, kind of unnerving, that "being stalked" feeling. And kind of a let-down when I realized it was me.

But no worries, because Sara had picked up a stalker of her own who, by association, was stalking me. Someone had made a couple of creepy comments about Sara's feet and how beautiful they were. The same person, I'm assuming, asked me to photograph my feet (which I did not because my feet are GROSS and DISPROPORTIONATE). Sara and I were discussing our blog visitors. "I have this person from Iowa who always reads my blog. I think it's the foot fetish guy," she'd say. "Oh, he reads mine too! All the time, and he stays on there forever," I'd reply. I mean, this guy would hop from Sara's site to mine and back to hers...did he not have a life?

Then I got this e-mail the other day from Sara: "Guess who 'North Liberty, Iowa' is? Me. and Tim. And whoever looks at your site from [said place of employment]. Our computers are routed through Iowa I'm the foot fetish stalker...I'm going to go look at my feet now."

I feel lonely now. I wish someone would stalk me.

Flip Flops and Lava Lamps

My new job is sweet. Right now I'm sitting on an exercise ball watching the lava in my lava lamp warm up. It looks like sort of a brain that has just been broken at the stem. Lava lamps are weird. Anyway, I have all my lunchboxes lined up on top of my desk. I'm wearing a skirt, tank top and flip flops - and I'm not the most casual one at the office. I arrived to work first - at 8:30. Always the hard worker!

Oh, and I interviewed a potential boss yesterday afternoon:
"Do you have any supervisory experience?"
"How would you delegate responsibility if we had a pending project?"
"How would you describe your personality at work?"
"How would you handle me if I needed to learn a new software program? Would you be patient?"

Then she asked me some questions and I had to reveal it was my second day at work. Suddenly I wasn't so cool anymore. But hey, I conducted my first ever interview, so that's something.

Yesterday someone brought cupcakes to work. The day before, there was some kind of cake and then everyone ordered pizza for lunch. And the refrigerator's always stocked with Coke, Diet Coke, Dr. Pepper, bottled water, etc.

I've taken some pictures of my office, which I'm sharing with one other person, but I left my camera at home so I'll post 'em later.

The best part is that once I get the hang of things I'm going to be able to work from home sometimes.

Gotta go think some brilliant thoughts now.

But first I gotta give props to God for following through on yet another promise. It's only because of Him that I am where I am today - free of heartache, free of financial worry, surrounded by friends and with an exciting job.

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

Keep Austin Out of the Insane Asylum

Weirdos.


Okay, remind me again exactly WHY Austinites are so concerned with staying weird? Are we on the edge of conformity? Not from where I'm sitting, which is inside a coffeeshop, facing a window where, just outside, tables and chairs are situated. Should there be anyone sitting at the tables right now? Logically, no. It's raining hard. But there's a crazy girl out there who doesn't appear to be aware of the rain.

I wish I had my camera so I could take a photograph of her on the sly, but I don't, so I'll paint a picture of the scene. There is one large puddle and many small puddles on the table. One huge puddle on the empty chair beside her. A drenched, heavyset girl sporting a 'fro, some glasses, a black shirt, listening to music on her headphones (I hope). Even before it was raining, she was flailing around wildly, singing out loud, scratching her 'fro in a very furious manner. She had journals, books, notebooks, spread out on the table, just scribbling away. So she was scribbling, singing, stopping the scribbling, scratching her 'fro, dancing, going back to the scribbling. I thought she was an eccentric art student or something, but now I think she's crazy. ...She was somewhere else when it started raining. I looked at her table and saw her books getting very wet. I had almost decided to run out and get them and bring them inside when she reappeared, strolling nonchalantly to her table, sitting down, not moving her books. Not moving her books. She just left her books there for a few minutes. (Can you tell this bothered me?) Letting the ink spread into blur on the page. After she finished one of her solos, she finally put her books away and got up to dance in the rain. She's still sitting there, just singin' and shaking out that hair of hers.

Before this, a girl at another table was working on a drawing. The title of it was "Physcology and Art." The title was pretty much the focal point, too. I wondered whether I should go out there and tell her she had misspelled "psychology" (or whatever she meant to spell) before she invested all that time into it. I decided not to. She seemed really into her work. She was sharing a cigarette with her little long-haired friends, so I felt image was probably pretty important to her. I hope that was not a school assignment.

Oh, the girl is gone. Maybe she melted. Man, I don't understand people. I only thought I was strange. Nope. I'm not.

My point is that Austin is weird, and I think it's always going to be that way, and I really think if anything, we should be more concerned with preserving just a smidge of the sanity that's holding over from preceding generations.

* BTW, I have this irrational fear that my new job will prevent me from ever doing anything on my own time ever again, so I'm cramming in as many blogs and e-mails as I can beforehand.

Alien Attack

The night began strangely enough. We all should've known better and called it a night, maybe watched one of Jason's 4,000,962 movies, but we had ants in our pants and, you guessed it, they were making us want to dance. We had itches that only a little dancin' could scratch.

Heck, Cassie even ironed a shirt for Jason just so we could all go out. Those cursed ants wielding their power over her. How dare they make her iron! (Side note: Nothing in this whole world could make me iron. I have principles.)

So we made a mad dash for my car, thinking we were going to kick up our heels, so to speak, when we were suddenly transported into an alternate universe with a huge force field surrounding it. Sensing our fear, the universe aliens tried to destroy our life force. It was fierce.

First, they programmed Cassie with the knowledge and power to use this brain-sucker-outer on me, an attempt to render me a useless and slobbering driver who would kill us all in a car accident.

Fortunately, Cassie's face started peeling off, so she only got part of my brain out. She rifled though the first aid kit she found on the planet and struggled to figure out how to keep her evil face on. Ha, ha, Cassie. That's what you get for being so programmable and secretly evil. Cassie is missing part of her face now.

Seated quietly in the back seat, poor Jason kind of slipped through the cracks and became infused with a tennis racket.

But I don't feel sorry for him because really, he taunted us for using "science fiction humor." "Science fiction girls," I think is what he labeled us. Now who has the last laugh? Don't mess with angry science fiction women. We will telekinetically scramble your face.

Capitol Days Are Gone

My now ex-coworkers showered me with attention on my last day at work the other day. (By "showered," I mean "gave." By "attention," I mean "breakfast, a pie and a card"...but whatever. I can be dramatic if I feel like it. It's my blog.) To thank them, I'd like to make a tribute blog to them...please imagine some inspirational music in the background here.

"It smells good in here," I exclaimed that morning. And then I turned the corner. Orange juice! Hashbrowns! Sausage/bacon and cheese sandwiched together by little pancakes! Straws! Could this day get any better?

Why yes, and it did.

They passed a card around (in plain view - it was really funny) and they all put little notes in there for me. So I'm writing little notes back to them. We're passing notes. I'm going to leave out the names and let them fight for who gets what note.

..., thank you for being a good deskmate and not chatting my ear off all day. We talked at appropriate times, I think. Don't you? I'm going to miss your wit, your insights and your coffee.

..., I'm going to be lost now, not knowing what's up with TomKat. And how am I going to know what the dems are thinking? And whose CDs am I going to burn? You're a smart woman, btw, and a better proofreader than me, but that's okay.

..., I never told you these two things, but a) thank you for always getting ice, and b) I thought it was a good idea that you brought peanut butter and crackers. I wanted to do the same, but I didn't want to be a copycat. Plus I'd have eaten all the peanut butter in one day.

..., my walkin' and prayin' buddy. We had some good times, did we not? You always picked up my spirits. Your joy for life gives me something to aspire to. I hope you always keep that spirit. You're a gentle soul and I'll miss you lots.

..., with the strong backbone, a woman I both admire and fear (no, really, I'm just now in my closet writing this), firm but understanding, honest but sweet. I guess you're sort of the yin and the yang of the bunch. You always understood me - or were you just pretending? Either way, I'd be friends with you on the "outside," too. That's how much I think of you.

..., I wish we'd have gotten to be around each other more. I did enjoy the "good mornings," and the few conversations we had. I think you've got a great personality, and I know God's going to bless you. We didn't get to say good-bye in person, but I'll come back and see you. Cuz I really like you.

..., thank you for my hippie gifts. One of them is on my kitchen bar, one of them is on a desk and one of them is holding up my remote controls. Thanks for always keeping the office full of laughter. Oh, and it's totally cool that you teach tai chi to old people. Hats off to that!

..., always a source of entertainment. I'm going to miss your little stories and your crazy antics with our boss. You need to keep on that project, girl. You've got somethin' special! Ah, I'll miss you!

Goodbye, my little corner of the capitol. See ya in the funny papers!

Because I Have No Self-Control

Like the day I said goodbye to my two best pretend friends Vegetable Beach and Sisserling Cubling, my mind numbly searches for a new focus to fill the void I knowingly and willfully created.

At 12:03 a.m. on this Thursday, September 7, 2006, I, Jada, permanently erased my cell phone game, Canal Control. Why? Simply because it was consuming my life, destroying relationships, and eroding my brain. My sole purpose in life became beating Jose's high score of 18,000, of which I never even neared (CURSES to Jose!). I stopped eating and drinking and brushing my hair. Turn away. I'm hideous. Turn away, oh cruel world.

I made the decision in haste last night after spending 10 minutes reading and 50 minutes playing the wretched game. I had to sacrifice either my love for the game or my sanity. I chose wisely. ...Here's to you, Canal Control. It's gonna be tough living without you.

I'm gonna miss you, you cute little water droplet with huge pupils.

Who's going to build the little canals for you to run through now? Oh, I must go. I can't stop crying.

Stroke a Pose

Not every photo shoot is a success. Especially with my mom involved. She's a beautiful woman, but she totally strokes out in front of the camera. Seriously. I've never seen anyone morph so quickly from a sweet, classy looking lady into someone who looks, well, a little bit drunk. And in the case of the following photo shoot, we were cursed by exceptionally harsh lighting, so neither one of us are looking our best anyway. ...But I had the brilliant idea that if only my mom said "cheese," she might master that whole "natural smile" look. Mmm-mmm. It didn't work. Look:

"Okay, now don't say anything."

"Okay, okay, we're on a roll! Let's take some together. Say 'cheese.'"

"Let's try again. And this time, don't say 'chiz.' 'Cheese.'"

"Hey! Not bad! But we flashed our faces out. Let's try again. 'Cheese!'"

"Um....all right....but only this time, look at the camera. Say 'cheese!'"

"You look a tiny bit Alzheimery in this one. One more time." (Note: by this time we are both laughing too hard to take any decent pictures...I don't know why I kept trying. But I did.)


Ah yes, the picture I'd been hoping to get...let's call it a day.

Jesus in Blue Suede Shoes

Last week I:

Played Parcheesi.

Got a new job. ...Okay, I was going to brush over this, like, no big deal, but I'm really excited about it. I'm starting next week. They call me a marketing specialist over there. The company is going to launch a new website next year, and I get to help promote it. Eeeee! I'm so excited! Hey! This gives "Labor Day" a new name. Get it? Cuz I got a job on Labor Day weekend? Get it?

Went to small group.

Met my mom (not for the first time) at my grandma's house in Kingsland, near Marble Falls, where my aunt and uncle live.

Learned interesting facts about Elvis from my family: for instance, did you know that Elvis and Jesus are similar, in that there has been only one like them on the earth? Yes, my grandma compared Elvis to Jesus. No, I do not think this is "normal." God bless 'er, though, she has a unique perspective. Like Jesus.

That's her, in the middle. My aunt is on the left. That's my mama on the right.

Rode jetski and boat with Cassie. We rode the boat while Grandad and Neighbor worked on getting a good battery into the jetski. They never did. Charged up the bad one and instructed us not to turn the jetski off out on the water. Glad we didn't, because it never did start back up.


Last night I played soccer and got a blister on the very tip of my second toe. That's a first. Another first is our upcoming soccer game on Saturday. I can't wait!

And that was my week/weekend.

Odessa Finale: The Wedding Party

This is Eric and Ali. Most people think they're brother and sister, but they're really husband and wife.

We celebrated their shameful elope to Vegas on the last day of our trip. They were our whole raison d'etre. Right? Wait. I don't know. They were the reason we were there. Let's just say that.

The reception was at First Baptist in Odessa, so I think that's ginger ale and ice cream in the bowl. But I'm not sure.

There were four types of people at the party: teachers, old ladies, family members and friends. Everyone but the friends wore suits of some sort and enough hairspray to fill up a couple of underground swimming pools. Eric and Ali's (and my) friend Adam was even wearing a suit. We were talking about the guests and how we felt like we were sticking out, and Adam remarked that old ladies make him nervous because he just has no idea what to say to them. So when Nadege and I saw this next little scene, we had to capture the moment.

Oh how we laughed and laughed and laughed at the irony of the situation. Poor Adam thought we were laughing at him. He started having horrid flashbacks to high school.

Eric: "We'll really like this grill, because...we like to grill."
Ali: "I love you, Captain Obvious."

(Eric actually said that about the grill. The rest is just colorful commentary by me.)

Eric: Look, honey, we'll like this bar set, because...we're raging alcoholics.

Me: Hmm. Pickles... Where did I put my purse...oh yeah...yeah...gas is kinda cheap here...yeah...mmm hmm...what are they talking about? Why won't someone come take this stuff off my lap?

Other lady: I just love my new flower wig.