That's Great.

I wrote this for a class.  The prompt was "What is 'greatness'?"

I decided to put it here, 'cause... it's midnight?  (Yeah! Take that! Validated!)

That’s Great

The word liters our most common sentences.

            “I’m doing great.”

            “It was a great movie.”

            “Oh great, now what?”

It is on the standard-issue list of basic English vocabulary.  It was one of the first words to earn a text-message abbreviation.

            “U r crzy! Lol! That soundz g8!”

It is the word we use to describe the man responsible for the growth of the Roman Empire, and the time period that drained pockets and the spirits of people throughout the world.

It is a compliment.

It is an adjective.

It is quite a lot of things.

But what is it?  What makes something qualify as great?

In creations of the arts, in discoveries of science, in defining-times of history, the things we consider significant have recurring themes.

The Mona Lisa.

Beethoven’s Fifth.

The name of a great artwork spikes the attention of our memories.  The names are familiar to us, and in many cases we can see a famous painting, or hear a famous composition in our minds, subconsciously reminding us what the piece is.  The work becomes an essential part of our culture, even after centuries of new creations.  It stays with us.

            Microbiology.

            Electricity.

Whether commonplace or incomprehensible, our lives are affected by the great discoveries of science.  Revolutionary thinkers develop ideas that change our lives.  We accept the theories.  We take advantage of the wisdom.  We enjoy the comforts.

            The Revolutionary War.

            The Gutenberg Press.

Great moments in history are recorded, then published in textbooks years later. The moments that change the course of our world are studied, taught, remembered.  Nations are formed.  Dreams become possibilities.

What the world deems great, the world remembers.  The world is affected by greatness, and by greatness the world is changed.

And yet, when my 10-year-old brother tells me about his imaginative plan for inventing the best-ever fighter-plane, I give him my honest opinion: “That’s a great idea!”  No world will remember the invincible armor.  No world will be changed by the five-million-miles-per-hour speed.  But his idea is great.

My world will remember.  His world changes mine.  For me, there is significance; for me, there is greatness.

The end.

Jo

a little warm, but not at all astonished

I love Rudyard Kippling.  My dad used to read The Elephant's Child to my siblings and I before bed.  Consequently, we still quote it. For example: 'a little warm, but not at all astonished'.

'Insatiable Curiosity' is another phrase I love.  Especially when Papá says it.

I don't have a Dad.  I have a Papá.  For third person usage, I have a dad, but no Dad.  I'm proud of that fact.  Not that it gives me anything special.  (Besides a magic genie, and ownership of several islands.)
... No.
I don't get anything.  Except my Papá.  But that's cooler than a genie or islands, so I'm content.

Anyway.  Mr. Kippling, I wish I could write a little more like you did.  If is one of my favorite poems.

We drove my sister to her husband and new home in North Carolina.  Summers may be short there, but they are compensatingly humid.  Compensatingly should be a word.

I think that if someone took all the discomfort available during the long, dry summer out in this desert and compressed it so that it took up as little time as possible, the result would be summer out by the Atlantic Ocean.  Hot; Humid; No cooling off at night.  (I think the absence of actual mountains contributes to the absence of cooler evenings.)

Anyway, besides the instant-stickiness, North Carolina has very little worth complaining about.  I loved it there.  I want to go back soon.  (My desire to return is probably heavily influenced by family,  but scenery plays a significant roll too.)

So.  Driving, trees, restaurants, beach, museum, cameras, Knudsens, refrigerator, Target.  Those are words that came to mind as far as "NC Highlights" goes.

Other trip highlights include (but are not limited to): Lizzie, dark chocolate, Hampton Inn in New Albany, Indiana, driving home through the canyon.

But I'm back now.  A little warm, but not at all astonished.

Yep.
The end.
Josie

well, i can't say that i met him, but...

(this all happened last friday at my cousin's wedding:)

The first time I saw him, he was giving a bottle of water to the homeless woman standing at the corner, showing her cardboard sign to tourists and temple-goers.  I looked away to check that my sisters and brothers were with me, and when I looked back, he was walking away, back to where he'd come from.

I led my sisters and brother onto the temple grounds, where we met up with my dad and older sister.  After a while, the heat and things had us all feeling impatient, so we decided to wait for my mother inside the visitor's center.  As we walked around the outside wall ('cause you can't go straight from the temple grounds to the visitor's center.  You have to go out and around) we clung to the bit of shade that the wall provided.  This made it harder to walk side by side.  I ended up behind most of my family by the time we got to the visitor's entrance for Temple Square.  It was right outside that entrance where I saw the man from before.  The one who'd given that woman a bottle of water.

I looked at him and smiled.  He smiled back and said, "Spare something for someone in need?" as he held his cardboard sign.
I apologetically replied, "I'm sorry, I don't have anything,"  which was true, unless he needed a fine-tip pen, or a blank black book full of words a stranger had written.
He continued to smile with a new understanding look, and then said in the same friendly tone he'd used before, "Pray for me then." 
My smile got even bigger.  It did.  I felt it.  I didn't control it, it did it all by itself!
I said "I will!" and continued trying to keep up with my family.

I had to take a few long strides to walk next to my younger sister's again.  They both have longer legs than I do, darn it.

It was a while before my smile returned to a normal size.

I mean, that guy is COOL.  He has nothing, but he's incredibly generous.  (He gave half of the water he'd obtained to that other woman!)  He sees plenty of faces every day that belong to people with much more than he has, but he's still so friendly!  I couldn't offer him anything tangible.  But whether or not I happened to be the praying sort, he asked me to pray for him.  He understood that I couldn't give him something that day, but he knew of another way I could help him.  He asked, without hesitation.

That guy is COOL!

I really respect him.  And admire him.  He seemed to have so much happiness in him, and he just wanted it to be spread around.  Generous!

Man, that guy is cool.
That's that.
Josie

"... anyway, so that's when the aliens showed up."

Once, I was talking to my brother.

More like he was talking at me.  And I listened and enjoyed.  And then he just sort of...
ran out of words on the topic.  But I hadn't finished listening.  So after a well-timed pause, he said:

"Anyway, so that's when the aliens showed up."

And I just laughed.  And then we talked about that comment for a while....

Now I'm gonna sidetrack myself for just a bit:
     I really miss Calvin.  I'm glad he is where he is.  And I'm glad I miss him.  Because that means that he matters to me, y'know?  It means we were tight before he left.  And we're tight now.  We come from a tight family.  That's what happens when you try to squeeze so many people like us into one house.  (I almost mean this literally.  In my old home, there was a point where 5 of us kids shared one bedroom, and my parents and youngest sister slept in another.)  We may reeeeeeeeeaally bug each other, but we're tight.  We spend time with each other.  We know each other.  It's good.  Hard sometimes, but good.

Okay.  Back to whatever was going on before the sidetrack:

He and I both used the aliens comment pretty often after that first time when we came to a point in conversation when we didn't know what to say.  I still use it.  He might.  Dunno.  Anyway, I use it differently at times, but usually it serves as a variation on supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Here's another digression:
The same discussed Calvin wrote a variation on the song Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

"When no one can stand your breath, my friend, that's halitosis.

H-A-L-I-T-O-S-I-S spells 'halitosis'.

If your breath is rank, then this might be your diagnosis:

H-A-L-I-T-O-S-I-S spells 'halitosis'!"

You know, you could spell it backwards which would be S-I-S-O-T-I-L-A-H, but that won't really do much for your breath....  
Try to sing that song.  It still takes concentration to get that O and final I to stay in the right place.

Okay.  Enough digression.  Now I'll regress so that this post can progress, and maybe actually conclude successfully.

I had no idea what to say.  I sat, just watching the cursor flash on and off in the title bar, trying to write something.   And that was about when the aliens showed up.  (Thanks for the inspiration, guys.)

Also, Calvin's birthday was last Sunday, and I felt like talking about him.  Now I have.
So now I'll go.
End.
Jos

sleep cycles need a reset button

Ever tried to write a blog post when you're barely conscious and not very capable of awareness...?

I have.

So, I have an issue, where I frequently get tired of my blog. I just get bored or repulsed because of the way it looks. That leads to the following series of events:

1. I never want to post.
2. I change my blog's appearance.

I wonder how long it will take for me to become bored with a brand new template....

Hopefully a while... because then perhaps I'll post more often.

I have some friends who are really good at posting most everyday.

Others just have really priceless posts when the posts come.

I never want to post. Not that I'm posting for a big crowd or anything, I just think that I ought to actually post more often...

In pretty much unrelated news, due to spam comments, I'll be privatizing my blog and/or changing the url soon.... I don't want to do this. But I'm oh-so-sick of the spam.

But really, blogs are such a grand blessing. My sister and brother-in-law are moving away to the east coast, and just last night I was feeling so glad that Olivia is such a consistent, talented blogger. Really....

And the entire reason I entered the intimidating blogosphere was because I was running off to play in Guatemala while my family enjoyed Utah winter. With my blog, I felt like I was keeping someone updated....

It acted as my journal, too. I hadn't become a write-a-holic yet....

they are more than half-way out

I'm the middle kid.

Now that I'm graduating, my parents are more than halfway through the kids in high school madness.

My sister's graduation lasted three hours, if I remember right. It was an undesirable experience, especially, I imagine, for my parents who couldn't go climb around under the seats...

I remember very little of Sean's ceremony, but I remember many pictures taken outside, when it was over. And I remember dinner afterward, because not only was it memorably delicious, but Sean and I both got to order a pricey Italian soda. He had just graduated, and I'd just finished middle school... I guess that getting out was qualification. ...heh...

With certainty I can declare that I remember more about Calvin's graduation than he does himself. This is because I was there the whole time, but he was not. His practicality made for a circumvention of Pomp & Circumstance. (I'm pretty sure he graduated with either honors or high honors.... I'm leaning toward normal-height honors, because he wanted a free period, which meant he was a credit short of the higher kind. Like I said: he is practical. High honors wouldn't do anything extra for him, but a free period would provide time for such and such, so honors is okay. Y'know. Whatever.) Despite his academic qualification, he didn't participate in the graduation ceremony. He didn't see any use for it. But when one of his best friends ended up being chosen to speak, he decided to go, only to listen to that speech. When it was over, Calvin left. I had to perform with the orchestra. I had to get there earlier and stay later than the graduates. ... Oh well.

Anyway, thanks to the PHS alumni, I have a formal graduation announcement. Sean took a picture, and then made it look good, and Olivia put Sean's work with some really nicely designed graphics. (Of course it's nice. Olivia can now add a BYU graduation to her collection: BFA in Graphic Design.) They both worked hard and happily. ... And Calvin I suppose did the same, but over in London... which made this possible in less obvious ways. It's true, just go with it.

Here is my graduation announcement, thanks to my graduate brothers and sister.

That's it.

Josie