I have a test in my Middle Eastern history course tomorrow afternoon, and it may very well kick my behind. But I might be able to kick its behind, such is yet to be determined. If you will so oblige me (you don't really have a choice, unless you want to boycott reading this post until the next one), I am going to review my notes here on The Daily Bailey. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Alphabet of the Middle East:
Aramaic
Bar Kochba Revolt
Caliphate
Djibouti
Essenes
Fatimids
Golgotha
Hegira
Inner struggle (greater jihad)
Jahiliyya
Kyrgyzstan
Levant
Mosque
Nestorians
Omar
Persia
Qutb
Rabbi
Syria
Torah
Universal health care (way back in the day, it was a reality)
Village
Written language (cuneiform)
CrucifiXion
Yeshua ben Joseph
Zealots
You'll have to do your own googling/Wikipedia-ing to find out what all of these things mean, unless you're already an expert, in which case I'm going to need your phone number so you can be my tutor. Did I mention I love this class and am drooling all over my notes? And I really really want to go to the M.E. now.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Ouch
I have a canker sore that is trying to kill me. And what am I doing to heal it? Drinking acidic coffee. Good move, Bails.
Canker sore, 1.
Bailey, 0.
Canker sore, 1.
Bailey, 0.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Snooze Button
I'm tired of working Saturdays.
I'm tired of being cold.
I'm tired of being tired.
What are you tired of? Cleaning? Bills? Traffic? Ugg boots?
I'm tired of being cold.
I'm tired of being tired.
What are you tired of? Cleaning? Bills? Traffic? Ugg boots?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Nancy
I was watching Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew tonight, and was very moved by something a woman named Nancy had to say. Nancy's son, Layne Staley, was the lead singer of the band Alice in Chains, who died as a result of drug use in 2002. His best friend Mike Starr is currently in rehab for his own drug use, and Layne's mother Nancy is a huge and faithful support to his recovery. Her role as that support is admirable and outstanding in itself, but one thing in particular that she said on Dr. Drew was really touching, and something I'll never forget.
Nancy addressed the entire group of patients in Mike's rehab group, sharing her story and making a message about the finality of death. Through tears, but also with remarkable composure (this woman is astounding), she told the men and women in front of her how powerful the death of an addict can be on his or her loved ones, and how there is only one opportunity for any of us to live this life. She told the recoverees that while they think a celebrity life is the road to happiness, she asserted that instead,
"You want a boring, predictable life. And you cannot believe how rich that is until you're in it."
As a person who is always seeking out the opposite of boring and predictable, I thought this was so profound. This woman lost her son to stupid drugs. And she is giving her time and self to prevent others from losing their lives to mere substances. Nancy is a light who has inspired me.
If you're interested, you can watch the video of Nancy's speech here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnqAFNZB1us&feature=related
The second video is a more intimate account, where Mike apologizes for what he feels was his responsibility for Layne's death, Nancy's forgiveness of Mike, and the consequential relief for Mike. We can never encounter too many illustrations of grace, as we are so quick to walk away from them and forget about grace's power, instead seeking out substances (be it drugs, clothes, friends, popularity) to try and fulfill and fix us:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbI79upgizU&NR=1
And if you want to watch ONE more video, here is a video of (big surprise) Craig Ferguson, filmed in 2007, talking about his own recovery from alcoholism and the media's harsh criticism of Britney Spears. Fantastic message from the heart:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bbaRyDLMvA
Nancy addressed the entire group of patients in Mike's rehab group, sharing her story and making a message about the finality of death. Through tears, but also with remarkable composure (this woman is astounding), she told the men and women in front of her how powerful the death of an addict can be on his or her loved ones, and how there is only one opportunity for any of us to live this life. She told the recoverees that while they think a celebrity life is the road to happiness, she asserted that instead,
"You want a boring, predictable life. And you cannot believe how rich that is until you're in it."
As a person who is always seeking out the opposite of boring and predictable, I thought this was so profound. This woman lost her son to stupid drugs. And she is giving her time and self to prevent others from losing their lives to mere substances. Nancy is a light who has inspired me.
If you're interested, you can watch the video of Nancy's speech here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnqAFNZB1us&feature=related
The second video is a more intimate account, where Mike apologizes for what he feels was his responsibility for Layne's death, Nancy's forgiveness of Mike, and the consequential relief for Mike. We can never encounter too many illustrations of grace, as we are so quick to walk away from them and forget about grace's power, instead seeking out substances (be it drugs, clothes, friends, popularity) to try and fulfill and fix us:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbI79upgizU&NR=1
And if you want to watch ONE more video, here is a video of (big surprise) Craig Ferguson, filmed in 2007, talking about his own recovery from alcoholism and the media's harsh criticism of Britney Spears. Fantastic message from the heart:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bbaRyDLMvA
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Shall we go for a dip across the pond, Madame?
This morning some men came in the store.
End of story, thanks guys, good night!
Just kidding :)
So this morning some men came in the store. At first I thought there were four of them, but now I think there were only three. They approached the register, and Steffie and I were to the side by the espresso bars, poised to make whatever toasty caffeinated goodness they might desire. Well these jovial men were in a jovial mood and were in no rush and were chatting and (this may be my literary/I-loved-these-men liberties kicking in to adjust the story here, but I think they may have also been) giggling like teenage boys.
Teenage boys in suits.
They were adorable to begin with. (How Charles Dickens of me was that last sentence? "Marley was dead to begin with." Anyone else hearing Gonzo's voice, narrating The Muppet's Christmas Carol? No? Just me? Okay then...) They were adorable to begin with, but as we listened more closely we realized they were able to be even cuter than when they first walked in, a mere pack of men in suits with boyish charm and playfulness.
Steffie leaned toward me and said, "I think they're British!" Followed by, "Did I say that a little too loud?" Followed by a giggle from me. Followed by a giggle from Stef. What can we say, the gents' giggles were infectious and reaching across the counter.
Sure enough, they were British. Much to my British-accent-loving delight. I took my sweet time making their drinks, as I wanted them to linger at the bar counter where they had to wait for me to hand off their cups. Their cups were marked as one skinny vanilla latte, and two regular vanilla lattes. I called off one of the regulars, then the skinny. As I was making the second regular, I heard the boys chatting; there seemed to be a bit of a problem, but their joviality was undeterred. I asked the boys if all of the lattes were supposed to be skinny.
I think I confused them even more by asking my question (this happens on a daily basis; doesn't bother me except when I'm exceptionally tired and don't feel like repeating myself plus backpedaling with explanation).
They informed me it was okay, and the one with the skinny latte said, in his so cute/want to pinch the cheeks! accent, "Let me try it and see." Moments following his sip he happily reported, "Oh that's nice." Precious!!!!
I finally, reluctantly handed off the last latte and double checked with my UK gentlemen if everyone had the drinks they in fact wanted. Stef and I told them about three times each that it was no problem at all to make their drinks again. They refused us and I peered my eyes down at them playfully and told them, like their adoptive American (miraculously younger) mother, "Don't lie to me." The boys all giggled joyously at my joke and I was alight on the inside with my own joviality.
This entire five minutes of my life just reconfirmed my desire to marry a British man. Mmm hmm.
I imagined why these men were in town--in America, actually--and wondered if they were on a business trip to do some collaborative work with the large company across the street. I hope they are, and I hope they'll be back in tomorrow morning.
End of story, thanks guys, good night!
Just kidding :)
So this morning some men came in the store. At first I thought there were four of them, but now I think there were only three. They approached the register, and Steffie and I were to the side by the espresso bars, poised to make whatever toasty caffeinated goodness they might desire. Well these jovial men were in a jovial mood and were in no rush and were chatting and (this may be my literary/I-loved-these-men liberties kicking in to adjust the story here, but I think they may have also been) giggling like teenage boys.
Teenage boys in suits.
They were adorable to begin with. (How Charles Dickens of me was that last sentence? "Marley was dead to begin with." Anyone else hearing Gonzo's voice, narrating The Muppet's Christmas Carol? No? Just me? Okay then...) They were adorable to begin with, but as we listened more closely we realized they were able to be even cuter than when they first walked in, a mere pack of men in suits with boyish charm and playfulness.
Steffie leaned toward me and said, "I think they're British!" Followed by, "Did I say that a little too loud?" Followed by a giggle from me. Followed by a giggle from Stef. What can we say, the gents' giggles were infectious and reaching across the counter.
Sure enough, they were British. Much to my British-accent-loving delight. I took my sweet time making their drinks, as I wanted them to linger at the bar counter where they had to wait for me to hand off their cups. Their cups were marked as one skinny vanilla latte, and two regular vanilla lattes. I called off one of the regulars, then the skinny. As I was making the second regular, I heard the boys chatting; there seemed to be a bit of a problem, but their joviality was undeterred. I asked the boys if all of the lattes were supposed to be skinny.
I think I confused them even more by asking my question (this happens on a daily basis; doesn't bother me except when I'm exceptionally tired and don't feel like repeating myself plus backpedaling with explanation).
They informed me it was okay, and the one with the skinny latte said, in his so cute/want to pinch the cheeks! accent, "Let me try it and see." Moments following his sip he happily reported, "Oh that's nice." Precious!!!!
I finally, reluctantly handed off the last latte and double checked with my UK gentlemen if everyone had the drinks they in fact wanted. Stef and I told them about three times each that it was no problem at all to make their drinks again. They refused us and I peered my eyes down at them playfully and told them, like their adoptive American (miraculously younger) mother, "Don't lie to me." The boys all giggled joyously at my joke and I was alight on the inside with my own joviality.
This entire five minutes of my life just reconfirmed my desire to marry a British man. Mmm hmm.
I imagined why these men were in town--in America, actually--and wondered if they were on a business trip to do some collaborative work with the large company across the street. I hope they are, and I hope they'll be back in tomorrow morning.
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