What did they ever do to game designers?

I found myself chanting “Die, frog, die!” for the fourth time playing this stupid game I have on my phone to stave off existential angst.

And this is very uncharacteristic of me, because I’m quite fond of frogs. Or rather, I have no particular quarrel with frogs. They have injured neither family or friend, and they have yet to create a site with pop up ads.

But in taking a mental inventory of my frog rage, I realized that they are the mortal enemy in several games I play or have played in the past 8 years. Gone are the golden days of Frogger, where one used to smack the side of the game cabinet if a truck squashed your precious Highway Crossing Frog.

There’s a game where a frog spits deadly balls at you. Another where he steals your vegetables. Another where she freezes your bubbles. And so on. Frogs are villains now.

We are at peak ranidaphobia, which is a fancy word for racism against frogs. Do not confuse it with gallophobia.

I then remember the plague of frogs that Moses wrought upon Egypt via the will of God. That’s kind of a weird thing to curse somebody with, at least to us modern folk. “Oh noes, frogs! What’re they gonna do, ribbit at me? Eat flies out of my house? Please, anything but that!”

But of course, too much of anything is awful, as the Australians found out in recent years when their prime minister urged citizens to beat them with golf clubs and cricket bats.

Probably while screaming “Die, frog, die!”

I wonder what would have happened if the Egyptians suffered a plague of puppies? So many tiny tails wagging, such joyous yipping! 

So much poooooop.

Yes, too much of anything is awful. God is wise.


Sense of Humour

I cried “Why don’t you help me?” and
God said nothing I could hear.

I said “You have abandoned me!” and
God said “Have I?”

I declared “You don’t exist!”
and God said “If you say so, dear.”

I studied and read, I sought mentors. I had
magic, incense, candles, bells, incantations, circles, water, salt, spells, dragons, quarters, elements, cords, herbs
fucking craft projects
God said “Well, this is all very interesting! What does this one do?”

I studied and read, I quoted Lao Tsu & Chong Tse & Sidartha & the Lotus Sutra & I breathed mantras to Kuan Yin through tears and then
God said “Well, this is familiar.”

And then God said “Look, here is a shiny thing. Behold; it is well formed and kind.”
I beheld the shiny thing and breathed in its light and cried.

God said “I am calling to you, but I know how you are. Do you know how I am yet?”
And I said, sniffling, “Maybe.” And then, “Show me more. Please?”
And God said “I know how you are & I know what you need. You are a funny girl.”

And he led me to a dense place, packed with love as gauze fills a wound. There was room for me.

I became sicker and God said “I know how you are. I know all of you. Help each other out.”

The power of Christ compels me.

I writhe unable to sleep just trying to comprehend
what is the end
why didn’t this one thing happen
or this other
then it does
and God laughs and says “You are a funny girl. Don’t you know me by now?”


We all have crises of faith. We beat ourselves up, because He’s done so much good in our lives, but we’re human and we have whingy, needy moments brought on by Daddy/abandonment issues. Don’t be cross with yourself! Jesus was always having to tell the disciples “Oh ye of little faith!” As he was a Jew, I imagine this was said with a bit of world weary exasperation, possibly accompanied with a smack upside the back of the head. He probably also said, “What, I heal the sick in front of you, I turn water into wine, I raise a guy from the fricken dead, and you people are worried about what’s gonna happen tomorrow? Oy!” But that part was not transcribed.

We don’t have the pleasure of the physical presence of Christ in our lives any more, but He’s with us all the same. He’s just on speed dial. Check it:

I describe God’s mysterious work to my clients thusly: you tell your friend your birthday is coming in two months. Your friend gradually becomes more & more secretive. He doesn’t invite you over any more, he doesn’t really talk about what he’s up to, & you think he doesn’t like you any more. Two months later he calls you & asks you to come over. You can be pissy & refuse the call, certainly.

But if you answer it, you’ll find he’s been transforming his home over the past two months into a giant birthday surprise party for you. There’s a bouncy castle IN THE LIVING ROOM. He knocked out walls to accommodate it! He built a waterslide of champagne down his own stairwell. And he made your favourite cake, 50 ft high, so you can literally walk into it & eat it. He invited all your friends & somehow got Kanye to play. In this scenario, pretend you like Kanye.

It was an even better birthday than you imagined, huh?

That’s God.

I Know Ya Planned It; Imma Set It Straight

A couple of weeks ago, I vowed to live a no-excuses life. I had endeavored to do this before, but not vowed. I’ve been engaged twice, so it’s like me to skip out on the vow part.

Not so now, because God made & kept promises to me. He showed me how to view His personal signs to me in a way that only makes sense to me & that I couldn’t use for my clients unless I knew their musical taste very well, but that’s beside the point. The point is, God saw me out of a very unsure & yucky period by saying in no uncertain terms “See, ya dumbass? Don’t say I never gave ya nuthin’.” Cos God talks kind of like Adam Horrowitz. Some of my friends would be pleased to know that God sounds like a New York Jew who converted to Buddhism & could also tear up “Sabotage” if He so chose.

God has in fact been so very clear and direct in His direction & fulfillment that it would be asinine to question or gift horse Him. Now, when He tells me something will happen, I just pretend to look surprised when it does. He is under no obligation to reinforce my faith, but He has, because I was suffering & I asked Him to fix it.

In doing so, several pleasant but distracting things fell away. This was a little sad, but it made room for way awesomer stuff. God specializes in Way Awesomer.

God has given me a lot of tools to discern His will & purpose for other folks, but for me I always questioned. He got a tad sick of that, so He was all “Ya know what, you little asshat? Here’s the deal. You will reckon with the real world, & watch Me collide with it. Bust with the whip-its!” Ok, He didn’t say that last bit.

At first, I understood very little of His messages. Then I perceived my angel (finally, cos I’m dumb), & my angel sounds like Mel Brooks. He said, “Look, we’ve asked so much of her. Would it kill Ya to give the kid a little hint, a preview of coming attractions?” And God was all “[sigh] Well, whatever.”

And lo, I kept hearing Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”.

Ok, that still technically hasn’t helped me yet. But so many other things have. And it makes no sense to any of y’all, but I see pretty clearly now. God answers questions, whatever questions you ask of Him. It’s up to you to bother to do something with the answers. He’s your Father, not your magic genie of fun, nor an ATM.

He is, however, all powerful, all knowing, and all loving. He knows you hurt, or are confused, or terrified. Asking Him to deal with it, in the same way a child might say “Daddy, upsies!” is the fastest way to fix any of that stupid existential shit we first-world ourselves into. It’s also good for the more tangible stuff, like “I need to pay my phone bill. Please help me find a way to do that.”

It’s important to remember that yourself and God are a team. I remember that now, finally. Also, God reserves the right to change the terms of service. He may sometimes give you stuff not in the warranty (the Bible), & that might cause some angst. DON’T LET IT. What comes from God is pure, even if it seems messy &/or too good to be true. Trust that He knows better than you.

Really, I’m powerless & not overly talented at anything. The only way I’m blessed to do anything y’all admire me for is by giving my life over completely to Him. In turn, he’s equipped me to do very interesting things, & He expects results. He also rewards my faith from time to time.

He’s pretty awesome.

This Shit Is Crazy, Holmes. You Feel Me?

Today a very old, dear friend that I’ve been searching for on the net these last few years accepted my friend request on Facebook. He’s as vibrant and full of life as ever, & I’m excited to see how we catch up & where we go from here. Meanwhile, a newer friend & I are texting what amounts to the angry poetry of frustrated love at each other regarding her recent unhappiness.

How appropriate that we celebrate the day that Christ rose for us the same day that both Passover & Mercury Retrograde end. This weekend has been a rush of messages from God saying to me, “Look, kid, you had to face some idiotic crap you were perpetuating. Now that you’ve accepted your complicity in your own failures as a communicator, here’s some chubby rewards.”

Can you smell what the Lord is cooking? It smells like brownies. It’s luscious & chocolatey and oh so comforting!

I know I’ve said that God is all powerful & that Mercury Retrograde means nothing. In the dark, vast scheme of things, that’s true. However, in my arrogance I forgot that God grounds us on occasion, & asks me to “think about what you’ve done, young lady!” Mercury Retrograde is such a time. Yes, if you pray to Him, He will fix it no matter the course of the heavens, but meanwhile you’re still on notice, young lady! God used this last MR to show me that my own poor expectations for myself are actually my problem, not other people.

Sometimes, someone says, not directly, but in no uncertain terms, “I love you, & I admire you, & I appreciate you. I want you to know that.” And what I hear at the end of that is “NOT!” even though it’s not there. My own preparation for disappointment sets me up for failure, through no fault of the other person. If Mercury Retrograde taught me anything this time, it’s to stop assuming that amazing people are just humoring me. Why would they?

Another thing I’ve learned is that some who say quite plainly “I love you” don’t, just as I’d learned people who call you “friend” frequently aren’t. Words are cheap. If all you ever hear from someone is “I love you” & “You’re my friend” but there’s no love or friendship there, you’re getting a lot of smoke blown up your arse, which just leaves you frightfully bloated.

People use me for my endless ear & propensity toward forgiveness. If I were a priest, it would be acceptable. I am not, so it is not.

I have limits. Once you reach the end of my patience, a gleaming armour that I’ve shined bright as starlight, you cut quite easily into the gushy core. I let people bleed me. I can’t do that any more. All the time I spend patching up the wounds from such encounters takes time away from those who wish to give to me. I need to turn the blades away in time to make it home for tea.

What I’m doing now essentially is babbling.

Point is, Jesus died for us petty jerks who wound each other with misunderstandings, outright cruelty, or simple vampirism. Meanwhile, forgive yourself for being a victim & move forward as a survivor. Festering in guilt is like picking at scabs. God is your mother. “Stop that!” He yells, smacking your hand away.

And hence, Mercury Retrograde.

Forgive me; I’m just squeezing out all the pus of my personal nonsense before doing my Pundit League piece tonight.

In any case, I’m grateful for the people who do endeavor to understand me. All two or three of you. My love for you is endless.

It Is Easier For a Stoat To Go Through The Eye of a Hurricane…

This will now be the third time I have attempted to post a blog entry in the past month. Each time, either the WordPress server has died or, as now, the computer has. One might be silly enough to believe God doesn’t want one to blog any more. And one might also have succeeded bravely to not cry, as one had written an entire page that had not saved at all somehow.

Oddly, one is not angry, either.

I take it as a sign that I was not supposed to publish that. I was working out some issues, and apparently, God or the computer gnomes decided nobody wanted to read that shit. So I got to thinking.

What DOES God want me to do?

I ask this a lot, mainly since, a little less than a year ago, I threw my hands up in the air and said “God, I clearly haven’t done anything with this hot mess of a life. It’s yours. Use me however you wish. Uncle.”

That makes me sound like more of a bad ass than I actually am. In actuality, I was sobbing, I was in pain, I was alone, and I was reading about Christianity by accident on the interwebz. I said, “God, I’ve been horrible to You. And I don’t deserve You. But I’m back. I’ve done nothing of use with this life on my own. Please take it and do with me whatever You want. If anyone can find anything to do with *this* [I think I pointed to myself], it’s You. Well, You’re the only one who can do anything with it. So. You know. *sniffle*”

Yes, that sounds a lot more like me.

I may also have repeated that I was sorry a gazillion times, as one does. Since one is English. And pathetic. That was sort of redundant.

Interestingly, very soon after I had a nervous breakdown in front of Our Lord and Saviour, odd little things began to happen. My current roommate was in need of a roommate. My current boss was in need of an employee. They both happened to live 11 minutes from each other, in a magical place called Los Angeles, which was 27 minutes from my sister and 72 minutes from my Mum and brother. It now also happens to be mere minutes and texts away from other amazing people who are amazing.

I left a job that was killing me with stress and a relationship that was killing me with stagnation. I left a place where I was terminally alone and came to a place where sometimes I’m like “SERIOUSLY?! I WANT FIVE FUCKING MINUTES TO MYSELF. JEEZ.” But I love it here. I love love love it and wouldn’t trade even the most irritating clusterfucks I find myself in for the world. I keep meeting unbelievable people at work and about town and online who end up coming here that five minutes to myself seems indulgent, selfish, and stupid.

I have a theory now that Los Angeles is so awesome, actresses take laxatives not to be thin, but so they only take 30 seconds to crap. That way, they don’t have to take five minutes to miss out on awesomeness. Mind you, this is merely a theory. There could be more to laxative abuse than the time savings.

So here’s what I’ve figured out. I asked God to use me as He saw fit, and it’s important to Him that lots of people have access to me. Strangers, friends, family. Apparently, I offer people something that they want. I’ve narrowed it down to straight talk, nonsensical tweets, and wacky analogies. Wacky analogies seem to be the key to keeping ’em coming back for more. I can take your love life and illustrate it meaningfully utilizing the words “trailer park” and “stoat”. It’s a gift, and God makes sure I use it instinctively without any pretense or forethought.

I can take your torturous career path and clarify it for you merely by telling a story about an ugly baby, some rabbits, and the Dalai Lama.

I can enlighten you as to your adult reactions to your horrific childhood by saying things like “You know when you’re at the DMV and there’s that guy with the hair? You know, the guy with the FUCKING HAIR? The hair that makes you want to spit acid at puppies?”

I somehow get paid to do this (well, but mostly to be psychic). I also do it for free, and people still allow me to live in their house. Or buy me drinks and food. I don’t get it.

The only reason I can think of that God likes me for this is that Jesus told a lot of parables. I mean seriously, mustard seeds, camels, and needles make as much sense in the modern day as the story of the “big important yet fluffy weasel’, right? I’m not saying I’m even remotely like Jesus, just that God seems to enjoy a good parable.

One day, I will find myself saying to a congregation, “The Kingdom of God is like a family of near-sighted agoraphobes with freckles, who have an iguana named Stan.”

Does God want me to tell stories to help people understand things? I don’t know. Is there a way I can be doing that better? Probably. Will He show me the way if I let Him? You betcha.

God’s given me a lot of amazingness lately. One of the greatest gifts a girl can receive is to be told she is the most beautiful thing a boy has ever seen. Occasionally, we ladies get to hear that, and it’s always true, for a while, anyway. Sometimes we’re stupid & don’t take it at face value. Sometimes we’re stupid & wonder when this one is going to get sick of us. Sometimes we ask God and God says, “Will you shut up and enjoy this experience I’ve given you? You are such a little asshat!” And I say, “You’re right, God. Thank you for the sweet boy.”

Then you ask him, “Why do you want to be a soldier?” and he says, “Because I love America” and you realize that your heart is a puddle of muck on the bottom of your pericardium and also that you would do anything to help him realize his dream. So maybe God wants you to do that.

Sometimes, you are bored and questioning your existence and your sanity and God sends you a text that changes everything that day. That’s always spiffy. Or a phone call. And you’re like, “Ok, ok, Lord, I get it! I am the most blessed thing EVAR!”

Because, like I told the most adorabrilliant thing on the planet recently and also a lot, “Let the magic happen to you. Or at you. Whatever. The magic will be there whether you believe in it or not. I DEMAND THE MAGIC HAPPEN.”

You may not believe in God, and you may not believe in magic, and that’s your biz. You may think I’m a total octotard, and if so, why did you read down this far? Do you know what that makes you? A dodecatard. So seriously, dude….

If you are in a place where nothing seems to be moving, where try as your little wunderbrain might, you manifest nothing, consider my weird tale. Consider the idea that we don’t control every little thang under heaven. Say to the Whatever, “Hmm. I’m curious, Positive Universe. Have you some sort of, you know, thing you’d like to do to say hello? Should you wish to? Only if it’s no trouble.” Yes, I imagine that you are English & terribly polite.

You’ve got to make sure you ask for Positive. If you call up any old thing, you could find yourself the unholy butt spreader to Baal, Lord of the Furnace. Thank you, Kurt Schlichter, for that reference.

Not that I believe in demons. But I do believe in asking for the highest good, and performing the highest good whenever possible. Also it’s very important never to ask for anything specific at first. You don’t want God to think you have an agenda. Well, He knows, but you want to honestly be cool with whatever nice thing He sends you. It’s like Christmas. Your great grandmother has no idea what a Wii is, so she didn’t get you one. She knitted you a blanket with Alf on it, because that was the last thing that she remembers was cool. At first, you have no freaking idea what to do with the Alf blanket, but after a while you realize it will sell for $1000 on Ebay. Or that you are actually cold. Or you meet a girl in college who craves Alf merchandise and will blow you for it. Who knows?

The point is, ask for the highest good and pledge to do the highest service you can muster and God will make you incredibly cool.

Or, in my case, incredibly weird.

It’s kind of hard to know the mind of God. Even Stephen Hawking is sort of at a loss, and that guy is so smart, he needs a wheelchair to cart his brain around. That joke was mostly for the benefit of Michael O’Connell.

Speaking of, Michael is another awesome person God put in my path for nefarious purposes. Mostly I think so I can be randomly happy after 2 AM. So far, anyhowz.

I should stop now.