I'm in a lecture

Hello one follower! At least now I know that one person follows my blog.

I'm sitting in a small groups lecture, taught by Scott Tubman. It's very good. that's why I'm writing this blogpost :)

Adam, a guy in my class, made me coffee. So here I sit, coffee next to me, on a wonderfully rainy day, with a mug of hot coffee, and I'm content in the world. I am so blessed :)

Time to take notes - Cheers..

Regular post becomes The Doc

Good evening.

This is a post. I can't actually think of anything to say. Sometimes when I start blogging things just come to me.

Much like The Doc's sex talk to us the other day. He is the King of Brain Farts. No. Seriously. He has a throne and everything.

He was giving us a sex talk wherein he told us about the purebred dog he used to have that used to climb walls when it was on heat, he told us a story about a man that appreciated the relationship between men and women so much that he, rather embarrassingly, began weeping, and finally he told us the story of how he had heard that all young boys at some stage in their development go through a phase of marked homosexuality. He had not, however, ever been through, or experienced that phase.

At the end of the talk, he explained to us that all of this was unplanned, and that what he was actually trying to say was that they would appreciate it if there were to be no room visiting, i.e. No guys in girl's rooms and no girls in guy's rooms.

Today, Frankie baby came to talk to us. The Doc, by way of introduction told us about Frank's children. "Frank is the father of John* and Michael*, and he is the father of... a girl (we now start to realise that he's forgotten her name), who is in Norway. SHE'S IN NORWAY! and we'd just like to thank frank for coming to speak to us, DEBBIE!" and he sat down.

Some say he has a tattoo of his face, on his face. Some say he is the King of Brain Farts.

All we know is,

He's called The Doc.

Reality Television

Hi there.

I was sitting in L72 in the Grand Arena at Grandwest today watching the adverts for The Reality Channel before the Top Gear Live show. Which was amazing. anyway.

I have concluded something: Reality Television is a sign of the hopeless downfall of humankind. The fact that we have become so bored with our own lives that we need to sit and watch others' lives makes me sad.

The single flaw in this theory is that Reality TV (Some of it, not all of it) is just so awesome. For instance, Wipeout. That's the best show in the world. I watch innocent, unfit, random people getting hurt and it makes me laugh. Another case in point is Survivor SA. This show is the worst show in the world. Yet, Somehow, seeing a woman in a bikini walk down the beach on a distant island with her fellow "castaways" complaining about how her iPod batteries have run down and she can't find her charger in her bag, is severely amusing.

Perhaps this is because it's South African, or perhaps it's just that the failure of what is supposed to be a dramatic and nail-biting show that makes me laugh so hard.

But if we are sitting on our couches at home, watching a famous (often for an unknown reason) couple living their everyday lives, instead of being out in the world living our own lives, we need to rethink what our purpose is.

This is your life, not someone else's. You're here for more than that.

Greetings minions

Hello fellow followers..

Your numbers are few (Perhaps zero) so this post may be another elusive post that is projected in to the void of cyberspace.

Recently, I've been doing a bit of youth work at my church. It's a very daunting experience.. I am not a kids person. I don't ever plan on having kids, and i don't like children at all.

Then they put me smack bang in the middle of a small kids ministry. I see it as a means of grace, and I am slowly beginning to grow fond of these kids. Still, there's a way to go in terms of being a good leader among children.

I tend not to post as often as I would like.. Perhaps it's because the feedback here on Blogspot.com is very minimal. Perhaps, I should make my posts regular and punctual, thus resulting in me becoming completely addicted to blogging. Which is entirely possible.

I'm currently in the process of obtaining a slightly more increased remuneration package for my work.. It annoys me slightly that I do rather a lot work for absolutely no pay. I shall refrain from mentioning the name and reasons for this, but still. I feel the cyberspacial void should know of this.

I shaved my head today. I was home alone, I sat down on a kitchen stool, held a small mirror in front of me, and shaved away. My head now feels absolutely amazing, and we'll have to see the reaction I'm going to get from my friends (And the children at youth) tonight.. Good times indeed.

Okay.. I think that's all I wanted to say.. Stay tuned for more, from Mr Tomnus, here on StingyEmployer FM!

Cloony The Clown by Shel Silverstein

I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown

Who worked in a circus that came through town.

His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, "I'll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown."
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."
They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,
They laughed all day, they laughed all week,
They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around
To every city, every town,
Over mountains, 'cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter,
Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.
And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT -
I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.

The French Horn

In my escapades of listening to music from various genres of that lifeblood we like to call music, I have noticed that in the pieces that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up, there is the presence of the instrument they call the French Horn.

The french horn is a difficult instrument to play, With many notes available at the players disposal just by altering his embouchure.

Whether it's a screaming ascending glissando, or a smooth yet powerful sustained note to form the foundation for the other instruments, this certainly is one of my favourite instruments.

That, and the Cello.

This is one of my favourite poems describing the tone of a cello..

Dulcet tones
Drip like honey,
Oozing slurred harmony
As the tails of horses
(resin-smooth)
Draw across silver
Of trembling cords.

Salticrax

I sit here at my computer with a box of Salticrax in front of me. Adverts always say that they taste good with anything.

Sometimes advertising can be false.. But not this time.. Salticrax are one of my vices. I cannot eat just one. I just can't. They're too amazing.