Joan Baez. When she sings "The Trees They Grow High," "House Of The Rising Sun," or "Matty Groves," I'm smitten.
Unfortunately, I don't like her newer stuff.
i go this idea from simons post on bob dylan's documentary.. my first choice would be..... joan baez.... she had the most beautiful voice, and with her excellent guitar picking, didn't need any backup music or singers.. next would be ...peter, paul and mary.
they could really harmonize magnificeintly.. what are your favorites?.
hubert.
Joan Baez. When she sings "The Trees They Grow High," "House Of The Rising Sun," or "Matty Groves," I'm smitten.
Unfortunately, I don't like her newer stuff.
did anyone ever tell you that you look like someone on tv, a movie star, someone in professional sports?.
a poster here said that i look like charles manson .
i'm honored
Pola Negri. She was around in the thirties, I believe. My boyfriend mistook a picture of her on my computer for a picture of me, that's how alike we are.
i remember there was one that used to go to my hall.
he would say hi to my dad and my dad would ignore him.
i know now that my father feels bad for that, but at the same time he had no choice.
Hey, does anyone remember this crazy 'postate dude with a big beard in the late '80s in Austin, TX? I don't want to violate his privacy, but his first name was Ron, he sold Amway. He used to hold up signs at assemblies, which is cool I guess; he also used to follow female witnesses around and try to give them these handwritten notes to read. He started hanging around my workplace, and when I wouldn't take the notes, he'd give them to my supervisor to give to me. He scared me, actually, and was the main reason I was so afraid to go to apostate websites for a long time; I was afraid that I'd get all creepy and unhinged like him if I did!
this one made me laugh out loud.. *** the golden age, feb. 10, 1926, p.310 ***.
air baths are good for preventing colds... what you do is strip naked mornings and evenings and then bob up and down for a while.. .
(thanks quotes!).
In submissive accordance with this fine theocratic counsel, I am currently bobbing up and down in my nakey.
How long was I supposed to keep doing this?
check it out.
http://neocrat.com/assembly.php.
if i'm missing some critical keywords, let me know, and i'll toss em in.. ackack
Lordy, that one's good! I want the lapel card for that DA.
to show what we are really made of.
i have been going through extreme stress, almost disstress.
i will not reveal what it is at this time.
Warm baths, chai tea with honey, and some physical closeness with someone you love are all ways to distract your restless brain from the stress-factors, at least temporarily. Personally, when I am stressed out, I find something to clean, and I scrub it half to death. This calms me in the short-term, but I sometimes overdo it and find myself putting a fifth coat of wax on my floor at 3am and washing my hands repeatedly until they bleed. My point is, whatever route you take to ease the stress, approach it with moderation and common sense. In other words, a glass of wine is nice and soothing; drinking one's self into oblivion is not. Physical exercise is good; working out until you faint is not. Take care of yourself, and I hope you feel better soon.
great advice received from a close jw relative who we visited last week.
she said that husbands are the head of the family, and if the wife doesn't support him in serving jehovah then he should give her a good smack across the mouth, thats what she deserves.
if only adam had given eve a good smack across the mouth when she proposed eating the fruit, we wouldn't be in the mess we are in now!
This stuff makes me so sad. When I was a kid, every other witness kid I knew was physically abused. This abuse ranged from spankings to face-slaps to beatings to being burned to getting punched. Many of us were being molested as well. I guess we all figured it was normal, or maybe that things would be better when we grew up and got married.
Then in my teens, all my friends started to get married. I had to listen to my friend tell me her husband "slapped her around" when she was disobedient, and I couldn't do a damned thing to help her. She was seventeen and pregnant, he was a ministerial servant on the fast track to elder. The elders told her to quit mouthing off so he wouldn't need to hit her.
One dear lady moved out with her two young children when her husband's beatings put her in fear of her life, but the elders told her she still needed to "render him his due." So she'd have me watch the little ones when hubby stopped by for sex. She moved back in with him when she got pregnant again. I have no idea if he hits the kids, but I expect he does.
Another friend told me to put off getting married, because the man is entitled to sex whether you want to or not, and any resistance, or even reluctance, is grounds for him to use force, which her husband did. When I told her it sounded like her husband was raping her, she said it's only considered rape if you're not married to the guy. An elder's wife told her so.
Another friend went to her parents for protection after two month's of marriage to a wife-beater. They put her in their car and delivered her back to her husband. Along the way, they lectured her on obedience.
Anewme, should I go on? I can, you know; there are plenty more examples I could give you. Are these a few isolated incidents, or does it seem more like an atmosphere of tolerance for abusers? Pretending it didn't happen is an insult to the people it happened to.
i have been on message boards for years, not so much former witness boards, but political or even just general topics.
in so doing, something always happens and i wonder if i am the only one who finds this annoying.. you type something, perhaps a topic or a response and you don't think it is all that important to check all spelling and make sure grammar is perfect.
after all, it's not school anymore and we are not being graded.
I'll fess up here: as a former English tutor and an avid reader, I notice spelling and grammar mistakes. They bother me. I've pointed them out in the past, mostly in the vein of "your point is invalid and you are obviously an idiot, as evidenced by the fact that you can't even spell correctly!" Then I realized how bloody obnoxious that stuff is, and how annoyed I'd be if anyone did that to me. So, I still notice, and it still bugs me (just as when people I'm talking to in person gratuitously mispronounce words,) but I keep it to myself.
i was an active witness, and i didn't feel as if god granted anything i asked for in prayers.
i didn't ask anything out of the ordinary.
since the witnesses say that they are god's followers and that he blesses them, i wonder in what way he blesses individuals when they pray?.
My prayers are generally answered, though not always in the way I'd like them to be.
Several years ago, while still a witness, I had finally given up on the brothers I knew. I wanted a man in my life, a boyfriend to hold hands with, and I'd decided that I would consider someone wordly, as I was pretty disillusioned with my faith by that point.
So I prayed to God, and asked for a man- someone attractive. That's the week I met the ex-con. He'd served 17 years in prison, though I don't know what for. He was covered in jailhouse tattoos. He smoked constantly. Old enough to be my dad (nothing wrong there, actually.) He offered me drugs, offered me money ($500 per month to basically be his mistress, let him come and go as he pleased but always be happy to see him when he showed up, whether I felt like it or not.) He pulled a knife on a guy who insulted me. He was a good kisser, though, and attractive as all get-out.
He got scarier than I would have liked, and I ended that. So I prayed again, this time more specifically: "Dear God, please send me a man who is older than me, but just a bit. May he be tall, handsome, and a non-smoker. May he have in abundance all the qualities I lack: may he be charming, extroverted, a great dancer. And if it's not too much, could he have black hair, brown eyes, dark skin, and maybe even be a Texan?" That's when I met Julio. Six years older than me, gorgeous, the life of any party, a fabulous dancer, and he was of Mexican descent, from El Paso Texas. Exactly what I'd asked for! Too bad I didn't request that he not be a professional stripper who worked only at private parties (where the strict rules of clubs do not apply; he was essentially a male prostitute.) He ended up sleeping with at least 4 women I worked with, all the while trying to talk his way into my bed.
So, realizing by now that God has a sense of humor (or irony) about these things, I prayed again. I asked for a man, someone good, who would treat me well and love me. Someone not married, who had a set of morals that were compatible with my own. Age, looks, dancing ability not important. That's when I met my man. Honest, ethical, moral, funny, smart, a lousy dancer but handsome as hell. We've been together nearly seven years now, currently stalled on a sandbar (the marriage issue) but I know in my heart that we'll figure it out, because we're bonded for life.
So yeah, pray to the Creator with all sincerity, ask for reasonable goals, and for heaven's sake, be specific!
you know, i never thought that i could meet someone so much like me.
but i did and right here at jwd, we only live a couple thousand miles from each other but i feel driven to relocate.
not tomarrow or anything sudden but the thought of someone who you know deep inside is you're perfect match is so far away, what else is there to do ?.
Yep. I got engaged to a fella over the phone, then moved to another state to be near him until the wedding. In our case, it didn't last and we never were wed, but I don't regret it one bit. True love does not happen very often, however there are great jobs and places to live just about anywhere- the relationship should get priority.
Right now, the reason I've stayed where I am instead of finding greener pastures, is that my man lives here. The reason he lives here is because, after we'd been dating maybe a month, month and a half, his company offered him a chance to relocate to California. He opted to stay here with me.