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Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflection. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Another Pause, Really

There's exactly what I was saying again. Good for Michael Douglas, by the way. Not that Michael Douglas is perfect mind you; though he at least "will donate his prize money to projects that promote inclusiveness in the Jewish community" and "'has chosen to invest the prize award into initiatives which will resonate with Jews like himself—those who come from parents of mixed heritage who wish to be part of the Jewish community'".

Meanwhile, that his father didn't turn out so well is a shanda fur the goyim, though nothing atypical for the Daniloviches. The ones of us who are atypical for the Daniloviches, I notice, are, well, atypical. Also, it's amazing that Michael Douglas turned out not too badly at all—and as I've said in the past, I had no idea that I am even related to Michael Douglas.

Still, the Daniloviches have left a lot behind on our trail and in our tracks—and I mean that all of our sides have—not just the Dunilavicy side; not just the Chausy side; not just the Krasne nad Krasnopol side; and not just the New York, Pennsylvania, and California sides—all of our sides.
One example of whom we left—and she left a note to prove it, although she didn't intent to leave a note to prove anything re her murder.

File:Natalie Wood 1959 photo.jpg
Another example of whom we left—and that Lana Wood won't speak up about what we did is a shanda fur die goyim

We've also sadly left many of our own in our tracks, too.

Saturday, March 7, 2015

Closing Thoughts For the Night (Shabbat v'Laila Shushan Purim)

  • The more that I look into a certain line, the more that I wish that I could tell Granduncle Tony, "No; we look like Great-Granddad's grandma!" (Pop-Pop did not look a Trudnak, unless the Trudnaks are and/or look[ed] like Daniloviches.).
  • Many a time I see relatives in other relatives (including per the thought above), it hurts.
  • How the heck do you deal with being an illegit (Yes, it's derogatory; though that's what I am, and I thought the connection was wrong.)? How do you also deal with knowing that others are (forgive the derogatory shorthand again) illegits and you're not exactly allowed to tell them? As I've stated before, I'm an illegitimate (really, delegitimized) descendant of John Allan. I even thought that it was a joke or wrong connection
Now this I never heard about. Wouldn't they have known if John Allan had an out-of-wedlock child? I had always heard that he was some sort-of great-something granduncle. Though Wikipedia does say, "In October 1830, John Allan married his second wife, Louisa Patterson.[30] The marriage, and bitter quarrels with Poe over the children born to Allan out of affairs, led to the foster father finally disowning Poe.[31] " Was Charles one of those children?

  • How do you (and I know that I'm hashing up a dead horse again) deal with knowing that you have prominent family who have wrecked the world (e.g., John Allan and certain Daniloviches)? 
By the way, I know that I used mixed metaphors: "hashing up an old matter" and "beating a dead horse". I must also say that I've also hung on too much, given that (unfortunately) Poles tend to eat horses (and hashing up horses is treif; so the metaphor works). Also, as I said on Twitter, I know that my knowledge of "Not my circus; not my monkeys" means that I've also hung on too much and (with all due respect) interacted with assimilated relatives quite a bit—and have few new answers in the process.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

At This Point...

I'm just getting resigned. That I don't want a job is not the case. That I want to stay home like this all day, etc. is not the case. That I went to college to get a degree for nothing is hopefully not the case. But what do I do?

I already acknowledged that I'm nobody special. Even though my mom suggested that volunteering for Maryland State Senator Kittleman's campaign might get me noticed, so what? Other people volunteer for campaigns and get noticed, get interviewed and told to send their resumes in, etc.. Other people are also, as I am, on Blogger, LinkedIn, etc.. Speaking of resumes, by the way, I either have to rewrite my resume (which is scant) or owe my (now-former) Facebook friend a handwoven tallit which I promised him for writing up my resume for me (He used the information which I gave him from LinkedIn.).

I'm going to need a miracle, which I already knew and hoped that I wouldn't need as much if I got the ITB pump, etc. (which I did). For some reason, those ranging from Kate Upton (a model) to Gabby and Anna Hoffman (political activists and commentators) don't even have to try (or at least in the traditional ways), and they get all the luck (or the blessing). Kate Upton, for example, was picked up just after doing the Dougie Dance on a YouTube video. Gabby and Anna were both noted for their political activism and commentary on Twitter.

Even the self-important Toby Keith had a miracle story: after promising God that he would quit trying to become a country singer by the time that he was 30, he got in to the country-music industry at 32 (and broke his promise) by handing a sample tape to a flight-crew member who eventually gave the tape to Harold Shedd (and somehow, God let him get in. Maybe God's given Toby over to sin and its consequences, though: how well's he doing now? Not as well as he once was.).

Again, that I want to be resigned is not the case. I keep holding out for a miracle. Maybe, although I'd like to believe that verses such as Matthew 21:22 and James 4:3 could apply to me (and I've asked), I'm just (or maybe I should just be) giving up hope. If life continues this way, I'm just going to find that dream-zapper strip, photograph or scan it myself, and post it as my background on my desktop or something else (e.g., as a conclusion to) a blog entry.

Of course, I could ask for prayer; but who's going to pray for me at this point? Maybe some will. Also, I feel guilty about even posting and sharing this because what if I should have left it private or buried unless I jinxed my chances at a miracle? Here posting this blog entry and seeing what happens (and praying and figuring what else I have to do—to get God's favor, maybe even a miracle somehow) goes.

 (And what do I have to do? Read the Bible more or more of the Bible as much as possible? Pray more? Fast?)

Monday, January 27, 2014

What Makes Me Special? Well...

Nothing, really; and I get that. In fact, I know that Scripture even expounds quite thoroughly on that point: for example, I ought to "not to think of [my]self more highly than [I] ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has dealt to each one a measure of faith." (Romans 12:3, NKJV) Besides, I damned well know that people are going to ignore me, tell me to shut up, etc.. If they don't tell me to shut up, etc. to my face, they're surely telling me what they're telling me behind their computer or mobile-device screens.

As I've stated as wellat least trying to be humble and honest (as is my Christian duty) leaves me all the more in non-employment limbo. One of the criticisms that I got was that I was too personal in my interview video. Well, excuse me—what would have happened if I didn't disclose that, for instance, I have Cerebral Palsy, OCD/Anxiety, Depression, and ADD until an interview? Either way, I'm screwed: damned if I do, and damned if I don't!

As I've also stated, I would drive around to employment places and send out resumes, etc. if I could, I would. Then again, I really have no resume on which to go. Furthermore,  doing the YouTube video and utilizing social media to even seek an interview in this day and age has ironically (and/or paradoxically) backfired—here, as a friend noted, I was trying to be innovative and, in my innovation, miserably failed. 

The irony further comes to light when one considers how a YouTube video helped Kate Upton, who was not even trying to be discovered, become discovered. From how I heard the story when I watched Geraldo Rivera's show, this girl was dancing at a game for fun (I remembered it being a football game—my bad), and a talent scout discovered the video and asked this girl if she'd like to model. Meanwhile, I tried to make a video to seek an interview partly because of how Kate Upton's story affected me, and I got few or no points for innovation.

Besides, how cool is having my mom drive me around all of the time? Let a kid who wasn't born disabled tell you. I can't find the video now, but there's a video where a 30-year-old man in a wheelchair rhetorically asks "How cool is it to have your mom as your best friend?" In addition, I had a 27-year-old college classmate who once talked about how he got jazz for still being in college at 27 years of age—not that he is disabled, but still being in college at 27 years of age and being a disabled 24-year-old woman who can't drive share the "not cool" factor.

So, I'm certainly not special—I get that. But I still have a dream, I guess—a dream of getting somewhere with being as humble as possible and using what I can with what I have and where I am. If nothing else, this could be my sad, pathetic life at best:

This isn't the comic strip that originally came to mind. I was thinking about the strips about Rat's dream zapper, but this strip works, too —except my Saturdays are spent at counseling and around the house.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Why I Don't Feel Like Going To Bed....

Besides that I'm a night owl—what's worth another night just knowing that:

  1. I shouldn't expect to wake up anything good?
  2. If I was going to wake up to anything good, I might have jinxed it by writing this blog post?
  3. If I thought that I was going to jinx it and maybe didn't jinx it after all, thinking that I might be surprised and have something good happen after all might just end up jinxing it, anyway—at least eventually?
And so goes that endless vicious cycle of:
  1. I'll be disappointed.
  2. I'll think, "Wait a minute. Maybe I'll be surprised."
  3. I'll be hopeful.
  4. I'll be disappointed after all, and perhaps more than I expected.
In the end, I'll probably be disappointed. Somehow, I always am. So, my life philosophy goes:

That is, "Always expect the'll rarely be disappointed [or at least surprised]."

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Actually (And Ironically), It May Be (Or Even Is) Official Now...

10:40 PM...waiting...

And 10:43. It's official.

And now it's funny to think how I had reservations about him.

Long story short, he is a Christian but was afraid to say so for a while. Also, we think that he might be Jewish. And I'm a blessed girl.