Sunday, February 28, 2010
I read, but parts I don't
It is not my home tongue,
as though not my land!
I pray, but I can't yet
understand, but, as yet, I don't not,
I read lips, but they speak
different on hand.
I read hearts, but here they died or fast!
I look to the whirlwind of
I came here to follow
You, in my heart!
But here, I am not home,
And I digress and
It is as though I am bound
to here, to you, on loan.
Tied with a stone,
Tethered in your blood, kiss and
I am not: no longer my
I love you, my tether,
My new flesh and bones.
I am your, whatever my
home! But I am here on
And when I expire,
I'm not simply replaced,
I am here, however many
stone! A slave to you, a
And though I glance left, in
Disgust, right without
I stay, I learn, I lose,
For you are why I'd stay
anywhere... And why I'd
care to share, to life bare!
You, see, love, does, care!
For, it, any cold, I'd bare!
For you alone I care!
For love, what is it, but like
Love one, and about the
world you care!
This I share! I dare to bare!
... Without you... I
wouldn't ... care!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Rarely, you, and you alone: know my depth ridden hidden arcana,
My deepest arcanum you know, quite well, as though- in sought it's you
- or simply and intimately- you'd surely become it:
My secrets, though they are well hidden, from all but you, as yet,
But you wrap around my folds, should locks once have held,
You know what my inner, and at times inert heart does with and between every breath preciously hold!
You know you are my arcana, beloved in your secret,
Yet what to do with you,
What, what harsh: reward ask you,
For seeking me, an arcanum!?
What apocrypha of my hidden inner,
Have you not read from me, as like a scroll!?
What gift desire, you,
Having so intimately examined,
Having entered my chest, having filled my lungs.
What desire you, of your captive wisp of hidden breath?
What can I give but loyalty, love, and something near adoration.
For our intimacy is in our arcana! And our arcana is enough should it be in God!
For right and good are a shield to be sought!
And our hidden strength is our arcana!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Though you were pithy in your empty point,
I'd felt I'd been made satire, a site yet but for your empty game of showman's charades!
Where I was honestly earnest in intent, yet a fool, for it, like one sent!
Where I told truth, you were icily aloof!
I was your empty wind of proof! Of truth!
Yet, hidden as yet I'd swear forsooth, perhaps it was I who was aloof! Poor proof, of my own empty truth!
Yet, forsooth, one must not derail truth!
For what is patent, can yet be latent! And though stated, it is not always true!
Shall you or another alight the grey white horse of truth! Yet, to always make latent patent is quite the act uncouth!
To seek truth always- I tell you- insooth: this is wise. Yet to retain sanely secrets: can be most wise! And can be done with no lies!
(On friendship, on love and care!)
I miss you, dare I care!
I miss you, it's sore in here!
I'd kiss and hug you,
Were you here!
I'd tell you smugly,
It's snugly warm when you are near.
But I miss you, I long and yearn.
I think of you, I want to move, my legs prepare!
I miss you, where are you:
Far over there!
I want you, what can I do over here! I miss you!
Way over here!
I'd pat the couch so you'd sit by me, if you'd care!
But you're out of site (and sight), over where?
I seek you, in the filtered air. I miss you, where are you dear!
And I think of you, I want you over here!
We love a presence! We love it most dear, my dear!
And that with it! You: with your identity swear!
And that, your identity, I: I love! Be present dear!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The sounds are odd, echoing in my mouth! I am not used to the way they are strung together! My mind stretches, and I slowly sound them tirelessly out.
I am no baby, perhaps it would be easier if I were. It takes such thought for every vowel! How can I speak fast like them, as I'm still at the beginning though ages past in.
How can they speak so speedily. I sound out again.
The experience is that of learning the beauty of a new language. Understanding- easy enough. Latin is a basis, all else we build on it, and the language I learn is Latin based.
Yet, pronunciation- accent, these are hard as I desperately sound out foreign sounds- thanking God I am not American- least I called z ("zed") "zee", at least there the languages are the same.
I pronounce and break. I think and rest! I listen! I rest, I may break for weeks, but then I'm back- insisting to learn, to comprehend and speak as a native would, as I would had my ancestors not left Europe.
Faith is likewise. When you convert or revert, or realise a vice. You sin, you confess, you sin. There seems no way out. No matter your strength- it folds. It folds. It folds. You may cry, but as though a foreigner in the bushveld, you cannot find your way about.
In fact, it is as though learning a new language- and as you break habits, the brain rewrites, as though with a blunt pencil, or a knife through steel. Everything is so very hard.
Jesus knew it was. Here is the secret- humility, and faith: perseverance to sum the two.
Go to confession as often as need. Try and try and try. In this world- we know little virtue. We learn it like language- we all may find it hard. I still do.
Should sin approach you- ignore it entirely- do not take this or that action, keep doing exactly what you were, or if a physical temptation- flee it: it may save you!
Do not presume you will repent. Fight- however hard. Ask why you want what want- ask why you want, desire wantonly whatever sinful manifestation... and trace it back- until you know the real desire- focus on that until you can manifest it rightly once and again.
I sin... I have my vice, however unnoticed, however much I am blessed in its lack of extent! But should I not confess and try- I might find it starts to grow, and death the toddler grows into death the adult.
And the end of that adult is death.
The more life in the world the better! Likewise with true virtue. Do not appear good- that is the aim of the Devil and what Jesus warns of in the beatitudes. Truly become good!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
“Archbishop Nichol”: not available.
Perhaps to start with: Evil is lack where there should be good. One can have good traits and be evil. Its why I believe that some people who in the eyes of the world: are good, are in my opinion worse even than Hitler or Attila the Hun.
This morning I was running late. I have been for a while, I am ill after all, who knows from who or how: but I have a viral infection, which may even last weeks. For a while I even chose to save my voice. I still am speaking as little as is viable. Despite this, people don't seem to hear me, or else to recognize my voice. I had a friend wave at me, when they saw me, but not note when I spoke, they always recognize my ordinary voice.
This morning I was running late. And when we arrived at university, as usual there weren't many or any visible parks. I drove up a hill to a special group of parks I'd found. One last was open just at the edge. We took the long walk down, and I parted with my friend, to rush late into class.
When I left to go home for a rest before my next lecture, a large bakkie (USA: pick-up truck) had parked behind me, its left passenger door open at the front, but seemingly with no one in the car. It clearly belonged to construction workers. I did all my manoeuvres, and even came to be almost parallel with the offending, illegally parked vehicle, but try as I might, I could not safely get past.
A figure awoke in the bakkie and tried to guide me out... it was no use, I insisted they reverse... I barely got out... they took my park.
I drove out and up a famous road through the university. Suddenly, another construction vehicle stopped in front of me. Centimetres ahead of me, it stopped, putting the yellow emergency lights on, by a bend in the road with little visibility, and in such a way as to make it hard for me to reverse. I did my best, and rushed into the opposing side. I drove home exhausted, and likely coughing.
When we left University today, myself more rested, we came to the booms at the entrance, and I went through. The car in front stopped, and my car was in that spot where the boom could come down. I hooted, they refused to move just those inches. I swore I'd sue if my car were wrecked. Those booms had wrecked a friend's car I recalled. The robot (USA: traffic lights) changed, and I rushed forward, the boom closed behind me.
All these motor-vehicles blocked my way, and endangered me. It happens daily on our roads, with motor-vehicles, with vehicles, with pedestrians. I only here relate what happened inside or near my university, and not any of the other times when vehicles stopped in the middle of the road on my journey today, having been going sixty or more kilometres an hour. I did not relate vehicles driving in the right hand lane, to avoid parked vehicles filling most of the left, or how I avoided pedestrians in the roads.
All these vehicles become obsticles, and cause us to make desperate or sometimes unwise moves. Sometimes an obsticle is good, a red robot, or the obligations of marriage, and family, a job or contract, or exclusiveness of dating one and one alone. But sometimes, people take the place where others should be.
Sometimes a lesser solution is given, losing lives. Sometimes a lesser person becomes a role model, ending lives. Ending souls... ending eternal lives.
Evil is not only just in actions but in lack. Become the fullest person you may be- obey God entirely. Do not obstruct the traffic to heaven, obstruct the traffic to hell.
Stand in the way of evil. And stand where God put you. Don't go wrecking me or my car, to put it metaphorically. Be actively good! Be honest with this word, though wise in what you are honest about. Be prudent, have fortitude, be temperate, be chaste! Service to God, then to saints, and angels, then to those who are good. Do not aid and abet people as they practice evil, aid and help those who do right fully.
For what you give an inadequate solution, you take away from the one who would answer a challenge adequately! Be a vehicle for the saints, for God, and Angels, for Good, not evil!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
I just watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. Its interesting, a real dumbing down of the danger of a consumerist culture where advertisers and not apostles fish for people- not to free them but to cash in on their foolishness. Granted- it positively portrays an extra-marital affair, and other less than admirable such things... Such as lying, or mean, spiteful and in business: foolish letters.
For me- it was of note. In the gospel today we read of how the devil tempted Jesus to turn rocks, (historically likely) looking like bread into bread. It asks him to satisfy his desires against his own plan to fast and God's plan of obedience. Consumerism is deadly. I am glad I was oft sick and bullied in childhood. And I abstain from meat on Friday as prescribed by church law. We must learn to abstain before we learn to indulge or we are victims and objects of indulgence- slaves and consumed: cattle, sheep.
Now, the movie reminded me of the gospel. I missed church today and confession Yesterday. I missed because I am quite though stably ill- a serious gift in God.
Now, I related my thoughts to a secular, popular culture production. But I did so in my own capacity- my own name- on my own column, as me. I noted weaknesses and that it is not perfect I note.
Yet, we cannot say the same of L'Osservatore Romano- which does NOT represent the pope or Vatican. The Jesuit paper which in English would be called "The Catholic Civilisation"; Vatican Information Service, these are officially connected with the views of the church: but L'Osservatore Romano is not.
Still, while endorsing groups who consistently destroy the efforts of Christ and abuse Christian audiences: groups like band U2: L'Osservatore Romano does not note their unofficial status, allowing secular press to treat the fetishes for music of the editor of THAT paper as the likes of the pope.
I like some others, call for the Resignation of the editor of L'Osservatore Romano!
Anyone who knows me- knows I love the dark. Yesterday, being sick as I still am- I closed myself in a near light-proof, sound-proof room. There I could not hide from thoughts and dreams- it is there where I wrote Yesterday.
We write best with yet no stimulation. What more of God- we hear best when we withdraw into the dark of the heart and focus on Him and we do this in prayer!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I'm so not cool
I'm so not cool, I have no tattoos, I believe in marriage, I don't drink or smoke. I like what dear God gave me! He's not "Big G Upstairs"!
I've smelt drugs all-right, while in a parking lot, at a shopping centre's underground parking placed party, it was in the air, and made me drowsy. Who knows whose it was, I was just there so someone could get a lift home.
I'm really not cool, I stay within the speed limit. I stop at stop streets, and give right of way when due. Really, I am nobody important, though all may know me. I can't tell one heavy metal band from another, or for that matter from a heavy metal case being dragged along the floor.
Really, I'm uncool. I'm studying boring law, worse, I love it, I read more in spare time. I really am uncool. I don't lie like the cool kids do. I don't even have a low class accent, nor do I use these wonderfully awesome cool slang phrases, proper English all the way.
I'm so uncool, speeding maniacs pass me in the roads, but I'm so stubborn I'm not altering, or persuaded to break the law. I was so uncool at school, that I left the "cool group" in like grade eight, mind you, four years later that picture was taken, the "cool dudes" weren't in it, I, Uncool was. And they wanted to be my friend... imagine how uncool I must have been.
I am uncool, individual, unique. I'm revolted by bad language, you'd be pressed to see me swear. I'm so uncool, I obey the law. I certainly don't even watch pornography, nor call all the ladies mean names like: hoe. I don't much like MTV, and I'm proud of my own family history. I'm not cool like you, no, I'm just Marc Aupiais, I'm me! I may even say a bit in Latin, or French!
I'm uncool, really, this rightly stubborn donkey/mule is, is me!
Monday, February 15, 2010
We took him, the ex-kitty, current cat from friends, who like many white middle class people, had had enough of this terrible illicit lover of a land. They immigrated to Australia, and the kitty cats were gonna go bye bye at the SPCA, via lethal injection. In a move animal rights activists would applaud, we took him in, along with the older cat. Both were over 8 years old at the time. The SPCA would have killed them within 3 weeks as no one would have taken them in.
He used to be wild, and he used to be aggressive, but like all animals in our care, he soon was sentimental and loving, he loved to be the centre of attention.
He doesn't like his bed time, but he's a terrorist in the morning if he's not locked up... not to me of course. He climbs on my bed and stares at me, waiting for me to get up and feed him, with a very affectionate stare.
When there was a snake in our house, the cats were a sign. They were very nervous, though it was up to me to discover it late at night while climbing the stairs barefoot up to bed, I nearly picked that one up, thinking it paper, and in need of being put where old paper is put. When I, Marc Aupiais, shouted that there was a snake, my voice went high. I stayed a few stairs above it, to watch where it went.
We thought, on a later date: it may be a snake when he refused to go to bed, when he didn't want to snuggle up in his basket, the linen basket, or that space behind the dustbin.
We searched, but found no snake. He was nervous, and kept running out. He rushed to the garage, and stayed there a while. Eventually, the door was opened, and he was allowed to spend the night outside. Frantic kitty cat, was sure to do so, though he's the age of a grandfather in cat years now.
It turned out there had been a tremor. There is often blasting on the hill I live on, as new large houses are built for politicians and the like. Yet, this wasn't blasting. It, amazingly... was a tremor, at about 3:00 AM in the morning. He'd rushed away at I assume just after 10:00 PM last night.
Oversized fur-ball, who for his own good: is on a vet prescribed diet, had sensed the tremor early, and had rushed to get outside to safety, it turns out.
If we believe animals can sense disasters, mankind ignoring all- surely some of us can sense what others don't. Should you not sense God in church or prayer, should you not feel him in the Eucharist, and in every page of a Catholic bible, or Vatican II, perhaps you, have lost your sense of truth. Reignite it, listen to your intuition, to that inner sense, which tells us what is truth, and if we are of truth or sin. Some may be more sensitive than others, but everyone has intuition, conscience! ...truth!
Sometimes, what the small, oversized fur-ball senses, I cannot, it is not to my shame. But, with natural disasters, sensing changes in animal behaviour- it can save one's very skin and blood.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Dear, glorius, Illustrious
Virgin, martyr, Saint
Princess of my heart,
defend me, cleanse me,
protect me in orthodoxy [obedience to the Catholic magisterium]
and in every truth
And give to me and those I
Love, Divine Sanity,
Peace, Justice and Mercy.
Defend me at Death's
hour, and hear now my
Petitions and just desires
May God show you my
entire life, and may you
guide me through every step,
And cause events, which
benefit myself and others,
body and soul
and powers, also work around me and in my soul,
And the souls of those I
That I may become a channel for the desires
and powers of the saints,
And the grace you so
Illustriously desire to
bestow upon me and others,
Answer my pleas,
righteous desires, and
Prayers, and intercede
always for me,
From the title, some friends may think I'm talking about a game of kissing catchers I wasn't playing in grade 0, when a girl refused to chase anyone else, so I shouted "I quit, I'm not playing any more!" and still got chased everywhere by her. So noticeably, that all the others girls stopped playing, surrounded me, and kept me in a circle, while she jumped me. Of course, I kicked her in the shins, before or after a kiss, and ran off crying. Possibly flooded the grade 0 boys toilets, and was upset when everyone took her side.
No, today, we are talking about something even more embarrassing. You see, for some of us, a girl, or woman, though we like to call women girls, can have quite an effect on one. At one stage I was prepared to leave Roman Catholicism for a girl, therefor I understand good old Solomon's predicament. I didn't leave by the way, she refused to decide for me. God separated me from that lady soon afterwards.
It isn't only girls, though they have the magic wand of charm and good looks. We tend to want to be like people. When with my ex-girlfriend for one thing, I used to suddenly find I loved listening to angry girl Avril Lavigne. My ex-girlfriend loved the music. Suddenly I liked it too. Who knew? Not me?
But also in daily life, do we not tend to compromise? We think something wrong, but only in certain company, we think something right, because those around us do?
Adam, I doubt would have taken the apple without Eve, and remember, from what God told them, the Apple was like a cyanide pill. Adam and Eve were the original Romeo and Juliet. Killing themselves off, for who knows what reason. Yet we do daily, we compromise for friends, family, and that really pretty girl whom we more than just like a little tiny bit.
I care nothing now for the girl I would have left God for. She irritates me quite simply, and I have since cut her out of my life. But for a short while, obviously while I was still at school, I was mush in her hands. I was fortunate then that God prevented us even from dating, though she and I both said we wanted to.
If we love another, we love their life. God is that life in the purest form. You cannot separate a person and God, even if they delude themselves, while chewing on the apple. The apple, represented disobedience, although technically it may not have been an apple if you read the text carefully. Fact is: the more you love a person wisely, the more you obey God. We should never now compromise, never now fall: if you are meant to be: be in God. It is the only way to be!
I did not enjoy what must have been my first kiss, it was taken from me, I did not ask for it. Do not advance your kingdom with force, but with God!
When my grandfather died, so many strange, self-important people were at his funeral, politicians or union people and the like whom the family never knew. The Irish Regiment of the South African National Defence Force played the Bag-pipes, while the National Union of Mine Workers put their flag over his coffin.
He was a doctor by profession, a politician by persuasion, and possibly a socialist in his view of economics.
He stood for, I think it was called the Progressive Federal Party; against Apartheid's Nationalists in Welkom, for an end to Apartheid. Eventually he got about ten percent of the vote.
The white anti-Apartheid PFP, later had a name change to the Democratic Party, and then the Democratic Alliance.
My extended family is connected both with the ruling ANC and with the DA. I have always supported the DA- believing in Opposition politics. But when racist policy and legislation, gay "marriage" and the like were pushed by the ANC along with South Africa's reported Tax-payer funded abortion, I was glad to support the DA. I had stopped defending the ANC by then.
I joined the Democratic Alliance Students Organisation quite by accident. I liked the DA, and asked their recruiter where the Catholic Society table was, as I couldn't find it that day. Because they had help me, I joined. A friend then asked me to come to elections for the executive. I stood and became part of it. Since I left school, I have never lost an election.
But I feel increasingly that I would rather dedicate my time to other matters. Politics are vital and important, but I feel I am better suited elsewhere.
I will still report on politics, and my reporting which was not dependent on affiliation will not change with me leaving the DASO executive at my university. It won't change with me leaving the DA. I have always prided myself on mental independence from organisations.
I am leaving because I feel I must leave, but not because of much more. I listen to my feelings, always!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
I could never lie to her, not that I would. I cannot hide things, personally, from her, not that I could.
She's one of those friends you never ever judge, and certainly aren't judged by. Sometimes I keep things from her, I hide them, so she won't be hurt. I don't lie, though my creativity at equivocation, and avoidance don't work well with her. It may be like pulling teeth, but eventually she always finds out the truth from me, should she desire to know anything that I have kept personally from her.
Of course, there are many secrets she does not know, and many things she cannot pry from me. For, what is between us, I cannot hide, yet with other matters, I am effectively able to deny... all necessary information from her... as is virtue in my position. Always so.
And I know it will hurt her, should I say something on my mind, but I also know it's the only way forward, even if it hurts her, I have to say it. She may cry, she may scream, shout or go silent, but she won't forgive me if I don't speak. I tell her what it is, and then try my hardest, in full lawyer/politician mode, to try to convince her why it's okay, why it's not so bad, not so hurtful after all. Afterwards I will feel exhausted, but the friendship is worth exhaustion. We might sit quietly together, we do anyway... we might go on with work or hobbies.
Yet, the storm will come and the storm will pass. One is not allowed to lie, it is the one rule of our friendship. And I never do lie, and usually she knows my secrets and I her's.
With God it's similar. I may sin, as I often do. I may think ill of Him, or may have spoken or thought evil. Yet His friendship is worth it- I eventually tell. I go to confession, and I then confess (in the vague theological pulling teeth way I do). Yet, I know this is true, trust is the basis, truth is of trust. I must tell God what I have done, whatever I do.
It is the only way through. True friends, we tell the truth! We trust! Trust is of trust, too!
Friday, February 12, 2010
I had a bad feeling about the park, and in Johannesburg, you listen to your intuition. Its often saved my life, and the lives of others.
Yet, at the university where I attend a top law school, there was such an influx of pupils this year, that there are hardly any parks, previously, it was a breeze to get parking. It will get worse with the Fifa world cup around June. Apparently, we're meant to be happy one of the European teams is using our facilities as a home training ground. perhaps the ladies are, I am not.
I turned suddenly to get the park, and suddenly was obstructing traffic, I did not know what to do, and under pressure, I did not think, I pushed forward out of the road, and suddenly I was in a fix. Like a hex, I could not escape this net I had entered into. I reversed desperately, and tried to turn out. Suddenly my little blue Polo 1.4 trendline, wasn't moving, it was somehow wedged with the car next door. I put all my driving experience behind myself and escaped into a gap in the traffic, before parking properly. I'd be late for my criminal law lecture now, but my parents had taught me to do something if I ever did damage another's car.
I ripped off a piece of green cardboard from an old course-pack which i still had in my car. Wrote an apology: "I may have scratched your car... I'm really sorry" or something like that, and of course my cellular phone number, so that they could phone me to pay the damages. I put the green cardboard below their windscreen wiper, and rushed away.
I spent the entire afternoon at a friend's house, having driven there. And by evening when the call came. I had forgotten all about my incident that morning.
"Who is this?" the person on the other end said. I was suspiciaous, and asked what it was in connection with. "You scratched my car, what's your name?"
"Oh, yaah... I'm Marc!" I apologized and apologized for my terrible mistake. I was just getting ready to arrange for whatever procedure would be needed to pay, when the adult man's voice said something odd.
"You scratched my daughter's car, but you were honest, so I'm not going to make you pay!"
My heart was still beating, I was worried, and nervous. I had been and was. He asked what course I was in, I said "Law", he asked what year, I told him my year of study.
He was glad that I still existed, that a law abiding citizen would own up to and pay for damage to a vehicle. It was my honesty that stopped payment. I was still nervous. I was scared.
After I let down the phone, I still felt like shaking. I said I was glad that "charitable people" still existed to the scary voice. make no mistake I would have paid, and it was not guaranteed that I could escape. Make no mistake, I felt I may be beaten up when I wrote that note, with my details.
Oddly, my evil, because of my good- made someone think the world was still good and decent. I still feel guilty about scratching that car. I can drive, but nerves, parking and being near late along with drivers right behind me had somehow distracted me, and I had caused harm.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
As readers know, my house's power is out at the moment, right while I was writing for the news service. Obviously, this is my private blog and not directly related, though I quote it extensively for the service. Anyway. It's odd, I love the dark. Night makes me feel comfortable and safe. I am watching lights in a distance, on some outcrops. I love the night and darkness. They are beautiful to me. Make me feel close to people I love far away from myself. Pray with me for Wisdom and God, his will in my life, and yours. Enjoy the quiet- even put off your light! I know time zones are not the same always. I feel so much the presence of those I love in the dark. Do you also? It is why I love the dark!
As soon as my power is back up again, I plan to post an article onto the South African Catholic blog, about criticism of the president by South African Catholic Church leaders. Whatever dispatch the SACBC sent out, Scripturelink.net news did not receive it. Foreign AP clearly reports getting it. Perhaps this is related to my questioning of the SACBC's odd handling of money, which was immediately met with threats seemingly of ecclesiastical sanction. In any case, we have had to go with foreign press on the matter. I support Christ and the pope and Vatican deeply, even as our Bishops conference supports and promotes and allegedly is on the board of the Southern Cross, which regularly attacks the Vatican, the pro-life movement, and Catholic morals and dogma. Our service, while the Southern Cross is given such free reign, gets threats, whenever we question certain odd monetary actions, or investigate the use of certain funds.
We also haven't published 2 dispatches which we thought not newsworthy recently.
Either way, I do love how the local church attempts to get allies in media. If they have blasted Zuma, it took long enough. The SACBC has consistently defended the ANC against criticism on many matters, despite its radical pro-abortion homosexualist legislative history.
I like fantasy, I love science fiction, I love thrillers, and I love horrors. Of course, it depends on the type of each. I hate the lust-fest, death-fest sort of movies. I hate when a horror endorses the killing, or has a sick vomit of evil inclinations. But I love horror.
I love watching the monster or alien movies, especially, because in the end the monster or alien dies. I love watching thrillers, when I know the good guy will win. I love sci-fi when the director does not attempt to make you stupid.
I don't watch anything age restricted over 16, I say that as an adult and law student, who has been exposed to some very hectic case studies. I protect my mind, and anything beyond 16 limit is not worthwhile to watch. I don't like shows about sex, and prefer to avoid these activist programs with homosexuals doing things which I disagree with.
I recently watched a horror about a Salt Water Crocodile, which damages a boat and goes after each of the survivors. I swam in Salt Water Crocodile territory when I visited Australia, so it was quite real to me. I enjoyed it, especially as the good guy and Ausie girl survived to the end, and as the Crocodile was killed.
I know with certain types of horrors, by the choice of the directors, and certain types of thrillers and sci-fi and fantasy- that the movie will have a satisfactory or somewhat bearable end. I like these movies, because though the world end in the flip of a page, one is safe, and the world is fine. I find them therapeutic at times, like dreams where the worst is gone through, and fears are opened up, just to be locked down more strongly again.
That said, while I watch many thrillers and a lot of sci-fi, I watch very few horrors. I hate those chainsaw sort of movies and refuse to see the psychopathic ones where the bad guy is made a hero, or where the director secretly loves death. The sort of horror or movie I like, in fact, is the one where life is valued, where life is good, even if it is tragically lost.
The difference between directors is life and death, respect, and arrogance, truth and falsehood. Most movies do not interest me much at all. Most comedies do not leave a mark, although some do. In addition to my love of thrillers and sci-fi, I often like children's programs for their innocence.
The thing is, to enjoy a movie, I must be able to trust the director, trust the author, trust the movie maker. Many movies these days fail miserably here, it is art and expression, but not limited. Limits: are beauty. One and one in a relationship like marriage, family alone and friends alone watching TV together, limits are wonderful. Without gravity, would we have legs?
By limit, we are defined, any lady will inform you of this while she diets. Yet, who do we let direct our lives, do we trust them? And God, do we display trust in him?
Who do you listen to, the voice of life and ethics, or that of death? What books, magazines, newspapers enthral you? Do you let these direct your life?
I recently noted on my twitter, that I would want to have babies, even out of wedlock, quickly followed by my belief that one must wait until marriage to partake in the actual manufacturing process with your then wife.
Maybe I am unique, but when I think of sex, I think of babies. I want babies, and can't wait until marriage when I can have babies. People often treat babies as some sort of confinement on a person, as a prison sentence. But the thought of a woman one day pregnant with my child, the excitement as I consider what it must be like when your wife gives birth to your first child, my joy at the thought of being a father, married to a mother: a treasured woman, these thoughts excite me. I want children, and I want to spend my life with one woman. For me, the Catholic teachings on sex and marriage, correspond with my emotional response. What is more wonderment enhancing: exciting than making life, the thought that one may make a saving in the Bank of God, and possibly reap a friend and dependent from such. I don't believe in contraception, and I would never, and I vow this, I would never use a condom, nor, even if I disobeyed God by having extra-marital sex, would I want to further disobey him, and miss out on the great wonderment which is fatherhood, something I look forward to having when I marry one day. There is no just argument for becoming a murderer.
I remember in high school a couple, asking me if it were more moral to wear a condom in fornication, or not to. I responded, if I remember correctly, and am not confabulating: simply, that it was the second which was more moral. You see, there are degrees of sin, and sex outside of marriage with a condom is far more mortally wounding that sex outside of marriage without a condom, which is still a mortal sin. The sexual act is supposed to be a vow a promise: saying I will be here forever, and I will raise our child together. Modern fertility awareness is up to 98% effective year on year at preventing child-birth, and is acceptable. I will likely use fertility awareness one day, but when I look inside, what I really want to do is multiply, I want lots of children. I want to rear them, and teach them, and love them, even die for them.
I also desire to marry a woman, so as to love her infinitely, and die for her if necessary. I desire to love, and care, and add onto life. I am pro-life all the way. Oddly, this outlook gives me so much. You see, lust is pursuit of sexual pleasure apart from the unitive and procreative properties. It is sexuality with the life filtered out. It is not life, but death, and to many: addiction.
For me, I want a feminine but unique and wonderful woman, not to satisfy lust, which we all encounter, or at least most: if not only in the mind at times. No, I want a woman so I can love her, and be loved by her. I want the family, I want the children. I need a companion, not a therapeutic system.I want commitment and children, and this I have discovered is inside of me. Contraception, fornication, all these things, or the desires for them, do these not come from fear somehow. That fear, I am told is absent when Fertility Awareness is chosen for non-selfish reasons. That fear need not be there in a permanent relationship.
Jesus said marriage cannot be dissolved, although the relationship of those not validly married can be dissolved. Yet, are we to separate that which God has united?
Next time you have inappropriate thoughts, think: shall I marry this wonderful creation of God's, this daughter of God? Imagine a child inside of her. Ask yourself, what right you have to this temple of God's? And know, sex outside of marriage is the breaking of a physical promise, a promise of commitment, a promise of love, of loyalty and of childbirth.
I want children, but should I love a woman, I should not disrespect her by taking what belongs as yet to God. God is a foundation for a sacramental marriage. He is a foundation for all relationships. I believe in marriage, yet even if you have a child outside of it: remember: this is God's child you are dealing with, this is His creation, and it deserves life. God has loved you enough to make another like you. It is worthwhile keeping it.
When in my grade eleven leadership camp at school, I was caused by circumstance to have to inform my peers of my virginity, I was proud of God's gift to me. He had protected me, and the girls certainly liked my innocence. It is even more powerful to have the power to do something, and to not do so. I find even today: chastity, and respect get one further than anything else... more than that, they teach us to make emotional connections with others. We also want chaste women, who await marriage and are not lewd or evil tongued, women who wear appropriate clothing, and who respect their body and their God given appearance and inner beauty. Rather uplift the mind, than trap it in evil.
I want a chaste relationship, and I want marriage and children. This is natural and God given. Do not ever let society convince you otherwise!
As for me, what attracts me first to a girl is purity and innocence, is chastity should she have it, and with it femininity, and beauty. Any girl I should date, I should want to marry one day. And I should therefor respect her body and soul. This, we as men must do- we must be chaste, and this you as women must also do!
Independent Newspapers has reportedly spotted out two more of the president's illegitimate children, these allegedly belonging to a businesswoman, and one of them had while the president was then head of the government's "Moral Regeneration" program. While many of Jacob Zuma's "wives" seem to be rural women, his "concubines", seem to be women who work in the professional sphere. I have not looked into the names of the children or mother, although I did come across them, and have not investigated whether or not the president paid the family of the most recently exposed alleged sex-partner of the president, as is traditional seemingly in Zulu custom, when one has extra-marital sex with a woman.
That would, if these children were previously unknown to the press, place the quantity of Zuma children at about 22. Zuma appears to have had a long relationship with his most recently revealed sex partner. Zuma has "married" five women. One "divorced" him, one committed suicide. The others have remained with him. The president, during his rape trial, expressed the view that taking a shower was a means of HIV/AIDS prevention. It is feared that the promiscuity of the president, will form a precedent for African men, in a country where up to one in five adults may well have HIV/AIDS.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
As a male feminist, I would never suggest the woman's place is in the kitchen. And as a liberal I believe men and women are created equal, but being a liberal feminist, I also am a pragmatist, and it seems to me, conservativism is often just either moral liberalism, or pragmatic liberalism. It is my connection with reality, and realization that abortions are only chosen by desperate women who have had their rights denied already by society, and that a child, quite radically is a human being, along with financial and other implications, that I oppose the infanticide of abortion.
I feel the same on other matters. A priest is a man, because he must be, or the obedience, the pledge, or to use the updated English Roman word for the military pledge, the sacrament: only works by obedience. God asked that priests be men, and therefor, it is practical and realistic to admit that there is no such thing as a woman priest. Priestesses were aplenty in Jesus' time (and I hear many of them were hot pagan chicks, and that pagans were hot in those days, not the gothics we mostly encounter these days), and the bible is full of examples of powerful women. One even lead Israel against their enemies in Judges. God does not bend to society, rather, he moulds society, however evil to allow for whatever his almighty will is. This same God demanded that priests be men, via Paul to Timothy, and by the example of the old testament.
That said, the Anglicans, with their non-existent priests, and get real please "Priestesses", and lack of any tolerance for conservatives, plans to "ordain" women "bishops". I guess the step from ordaining "married" gay "bishops", to ordaining women who get called "Father", as "Bishops" doesn't look that big to the good young old "Church" of England, formed by murderous dictator / tyrant, adulterer Henry VIII.
In any case, George Pitcher, writes on his telegraph blog, that arguments that the feminist church of England scares men away are wrong, and desperate, or maybe he doesn't, who knows with people who belong to an organization that cherry-picks what the bible "says".
Damien Thompson says in the comments that if you can ordain women priests, you can ordain women bishops. I agree, both are impossible. Note not the article, but the comments, it is the conservative Telegraph, but it is of note, I enjoyed reading the debate. I like the modern conservatives a lot, I may even be one. What I enjoyed was noting the response.
Fact is, the way the gospel is exchanged for radical leftist suicidal liberalism is why men avoid the Church of England, and a number of Catholic churches. Distorting the gospel is why many men avoid church. We want to be what God made us: men; and to take our valid role. I attend a parish where I can be a man of God, and women can be women of God, not men of God. The only type of father I plan to be, is of whatever biological children I may have with the woman I one day marry. To me, this whole thing with the CoE is a bit like a sick fetish. Then again, in this world, we see many of them:
I might add, Catholic girls are more hot! We win! And they don't have to play "man", they are comfortable with their sexuality, even as many are justly tom-boys, but without losing their femininity. I might well give good sermons, but literally God forbid, I ever become a priest, I am made for one woman, God's gift to her. I mustn't be torn between the beautiful reason for living, one day, and the community! So if you want to be a catholic Bishop, be a man. If you want to be an Anglican "Bishop", just remember, don't wear the miniskirt by the alter, you're not a catholic school girl!
No offence to any Anglicans, I truly pray for your people, but perhaps this is the push you need to enter the Catholic church, bringing your rich historic heritage with you.
Monday, February 8, 2010
I am a firm believer in subsidiarity, it's why I believe the pope is right not to interfere too much with the affairs of bishops, and it's why I oppose inter-racial, inter-country, inter-continental, inter-cultural, and especially inter-religious adoptions, except where necessary. In a case which is ripe for the picking should one want to point to the dangers of possibly commercializing a child, 33 children were "adopted"/"kidnapped", from Haiti, but this time, as though to make a point- by Fundamentalist Christian baptist people. Turns out they [the children who were taken] appear to all have parents, even more shocking, they [the Baptists, who are meant to be adults] seem to have lied to everyone. Why adopt them [the not orphaned Haitian kids]? Maybe because in a contraceptive community, its more converts for the baptist churches involved, or so the British Daily mail suggests:
Daily Mail: Secular; independent; British:
Child-napping, or selling of children to be adopted may also be a reason, should the allegations be true, given a checkered past of one of the lead baptists involved. We in the third world, we want our children, we don't want a youth drain along with the brain drain!
Yup, this is my latest attempt at a blog. [y]up, it's me. The tempest and the hurricane, but marc-aupiais.blogspot.com as the address? Odd, is it not?
Its a place where I don't need to correct spelling errors, though I probably will, a place where I can write utter nonsense if I so desire, and a place to say what is on my mind even when I may not have the time to articulate it for the news service. Its me, its a place I can write pointless poetry, or talk about shallow things. It is a place, where I can craft a vision free of the many visions I am known for, though we are never really free of visions, be they self imposed, or of the biblical sort, I am sort of known for the first sort of vision. A vision, or idea tends to emerge, and I expect one to emerge here, after all, I am the same individual, whatever I am covering. Simply because I can be more casual here, on what is truly and really a blog, does not mean I am a different person, it does mean I can take sides, or the like, or make lots of jokes or do whatever pleases me really, though I've learnt self control, and likely will be specific. Obviously, I do still hold myself to standards here, but prayerfully not the toughest standards. Its simply a place to express views! I certainly am not stopping in my role with the news service, but for all my seriousness, I need somewhere to just play, maybe you will join me in this playground adventure, maybe you won't, really, it's your choice entirely!