It looks as if my profile has become as obsolete as that old typewriter your grandmother simply refuses to relinquish. Not that I am against antiques--actually, I reserve every right to laugh at bulky writing systems because I both read Braille and enjoy hand-crafted articles. (If Braille isn't a cumbersome little code, I don't know what is.)
As a recent graduate of the University of Anti-Literary Endeavors, I am now seeking employment in the editing field. While I wait for job offers and/or book proposals to trickle in, I am giving myself a theological degree without the dipploma--that is, I am in the process of teaching myself from the curricula of DTS courses. Meanwhile, I am rennovating my apartment and generally investing in perfect, plush, Nicolic furnishings. Burlap and similar "attractive" Southwestern products shall never again grace my home.
The Lord has brought me through so very much over the past year. My complacency has been transformed--first through a time of devotion that involved an extensive break from Epinions and several months' worth of Bible study, then through some trials involving my mother's recent diagnosis of MS. But like Job, I now know one thing with absolute, impenetrable clarity: "my Redeemer liveth"--and He is more than enough. After months of anguish and lesson after lesson in surrender and trust, He has healed the shattered remnants of my heart and made all things new.
In other news:
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VELVET VERSES:
Come bless the Lord,
All ye servants of the Lord,
Who by night stand
In the house of the Lord!
Lift up your hands
In the holy place
And bless the Lord!
--Psalm 134:1-2
NICOLIC NOTIONS:
I am unashamedly defined by my faith in Jesus Christ. Through Him only do I receive enough love, joy, peace, and strength for each day.
For both literary and spiritual reasons, the Bible is truly magnificent. Do not ask me which portion of Scripture I enjoy most--that is, unless you like to read tomes, for it is simply not possible to provide a concise answer to such a beautiful, intricate question. In an attempt to consolidate my passion for Biblical studies, I shall say, for the present, that the Psalms are lovely--particularly Psalms 24, 27, 45, 103, 110, 118, 126, and 134. Other books to be celebrated, cherished, and treasured beyond mere words include Exodus, 1 Samuel, Ezekiel, Daniel, John, 1 Thessalonians, Philippians, and Revelation. I told you that no consolidation could result from a discussion of Scripture!
Petrarchan sonnets are my passion; the use of dactyls is my delight. In plain terms, I am an English major and passionately devoted to the perfection of our lovely language. For this reason, I hold only three works as having ever attained the status of literature, spend my hard-earned money on songs that detail the joys of prepositions, and have forever boycotted Fruit Loops--and, yes, I know that most people would claim that I am misrepresenting that cereal in my spelling choice. Did I ever claim to conform?
I speak French; some would say that I speak the language fluently, but I feel that I have much to learn before I attain that honourable status. Anyway, French sounds like the harp when spoken. If there has ever existed a more beautiful language, I have yet to encounter it.
Since the age of two, my heart has played the harp and sung the flute. Although, in actuality, I have yet to learn either instrument, I am deeply touched when I hear them. Have you ever realized how closely the high notes on the harp or piano resemble rain--a gentle, cooling shower that washes away all anguish and fear?
Praise and worship music sounds like velvet. Children's music is the silken equivalent. Christian music sung by a woman resembles soft, warm flannel; the equivalent for a man is durable, rich corduroy. Together, these form an exquisite patchwork of magnificence. When any of these recordings is in French, the calibre is indescribable. Now, if only I could obtain French worship music, accompanied by the harp!
Every square inch of a house that is not adorned with books and the aforementioned music must be bedecked with flowers--specifically lilies, lilacs, roses, and sunflowers. Drawers that do not contain heather sachets are not drawers at all, but bedraggled boxes waiting to fulfill their intended purposes.
Did you know that chocolate, orange, cinnamon, and vanilla act as an elixir? The resulting beverage--known as a chornillamon mocha--may eliminate all sensitivity to any outside stimulus by its sheer delightful flavor. Moreover, when one focuses upon the combination of ingredients in a well-prepared mocha, poetry is almost certain to result! In short, mochas render antidepressants obsolete--not that I am against them, only that mochas eclipse unhappiness until any other medication is simply no longer necessary.
If a day passes in which the meals contained no cheese, I would consider myself as simply not having eaten that day. The five major food groups are cheese, pasta, bread, garlic, and more cheese. By the way, did I mention cheese?
Is a schoolboy defined by his shoelaces? Neither am I defined by my visual impairment--a small inconvenience that determines very few of my actions and none of my personality. I mention it only because many of my reviews are written from the perspective of accessibility; I am by no means a disability rights advocate, and my weekly schedule does not include fifteen meetings to discuss "the injustice of society".
EPINIONS: MISCELLANEOUS MUSINGS:
Perfectionist that I am, I nearly always leave a comment if I rate less than Very Helpful; if, therefore, your well-written review is poorly rated and I have left no comment, please feel free to contact me.
