?Diotrophes or Demetrius?

So I'm guessing some of you guys are kinda clueless as to what I'm referencing at this point.  Maybe you aren't.  

It's not Psych.  


It's not The Classic Crime.  

It's not a Jesse Spencer interview from two years ago.  


It's not a Richard Gere movie.  

It's....

!!THE BIBLE!!

Demetrius and Diotrophes were two guys mentioned in the book of 3rd John.  And I swear I will explain what the post title means.  When I get there.  


So last night I was thinking about the fact that I really don't know all that much scripture by heart.  I've been really convicted about that lately, and I finally decided to do something about it.  


So I looked up some of the shorter books of the Bible.  I want to move up to memorizing James, but that's 108 verses, so I'm starting out easier. 

And 3rd John is 15 verses long.  


But, of all the shorter books, I felt like God was saying, "3 John.  Learn that one."  


I didn't know why, but, yeah, it's true.  So I read it and looked at the notes one who the people mentioned in John's letter were.  


Gaius was the guy the letter was addressed to.  John was sending "traveling teachers" to his and Diotrophes' city.  When Diotrophes, a leader of the church, turned them away, Gaius welcomed the teachers and learned from them.  


Back to that Diotrophes kid.  He was a leader in the church who wanted to have everything the way he wanted it without any outside opinions or input.  I bet he was kinda annoying.  But what John talks about being wrong about Diotrophes was not whether or not he was annoying, but the mistakes he was making.  He was not following Christ's teachings and wouldn't listen to people tell him differently.  


Then there's that dude Demetrius.  Well, he's pretty cool.  John says Demetrius "has received a good testimony from everyone, and from the truth itself."  He's kinda the opposite of Diotrophes.  


So that brings us to the post title.  


I wonder if I'm always being a Demetrius, or if I start to become a Diotrophes.  I don't lead others astray intentionally, but I'm not always open to the opposing opinions.  If someone tries to help me on Sudoku, I will claw their eyes out.  I shoot down others' ideas, occasionally just because I don't agree with them.  

If I'm not open to other people's opinions and ideas in simple things like music and Sudoku, will I be open to their suggestions when I'm wrong about scripture??  


So, over the next five weeks, starting on Sunday, I'm going to be memorizing the book of 3 John.  I hope that this task will put me closer to Demetrius, farther from Diotrophes, and much closer to God.  


An Indigo Goodbye from CatCooper<3

Someone Like You

Someone Like You

Couples like Connelly O’Flanagan and Mason Cross were never supposed to happen.  Soul mates were supposed to find each other, quickly and easily, with a happily-ever-after as the grand finale.  The four years the mentioned pair spent together, oddly enough, sound like completely different stories, depending on who you ask.  Bitter or sweet, a recurring nightmare or a fond memory, the best days of one’s life and just another stretch of time for the other. 

As was already mentioned Connelly and Mason should have never begun a relationship, let alone continue one for four years.  When they met in their junior year of high school, Mason had just moved to Brighton.  Connelly had lived there her whole life.  Connelly was a charming cheerleader and gymnast with average grades and a blooming social life.  Mason, sarcastic and witty, quickly earned a reputation as someone with places to go in life, whose extracurriculars and straight A’s made that fact even more obvious. 

These two people should have never interacted, what with the great divide in the social hierarchy.  They did not meet as any cliché couple might.  Connelly did not request Mason’s help on her Algebra, though she badly needed it.  Mason did not explain to Connelly how she could better her gymnastics, though, with his obsession with physics, he could have done so.  A teacher did not place them in a group together or force them to be lab partners.  The pair did not have classes together or the same lunch period.  Each hardly knew the other existed. 

To Mason, Connelly was just another blonde, thin, tall cheerleader who blended in with every other air-headed bimbo.  She was pretty, for sure, but not the kind of girl someone like him could ever manage to talk to.  His references to movies from the eighties would surely be lost on her, as would any word from his extensive vocabulary. 

To Connelly, Mason was just another face in the crowd.  He was handsome and dashing, with broad shoulders and high cheekbones.  He seemed to be attempting to dress like a hipster, with horn-rimmed glasses and a series of scarves that never seemed to be worn twice.  But to Connelly, he was nothing more than another hipster.  He had no name, like a person one might meet in an airport. 

Their eyes did not meet in a magical and supernatural manner.  They did not brush hands as they reached for corn on the cob in the cafeteria.  They did not spend hours thinking about the other, wondering how a person so perfect, so divine, could ever even acknowledge their existence.  They led the lives most moderately self-centered teenagers live.  They did not belong in each other’s circle and did not associate with the other for that reason.  Socializing never even crossed either teen’s mind. 

But that all changed when they attended the University of Denver.  Connelly stayed in an apartment off campus, whereas Mason chose the dorm life, rooming with some nerds he took AP physics with in high school.  They had different majors, and the only classes they attended together were in lecture halls filled with hundreds of other students, just as oblivious as Connelly and Mason. 

The magic, the chance, the happenstances that brought this unlikely team together began in November of their freshman year.  Connelly hurried out of a building as Mason rushed into one.  They bumped heads and Mason, klutzy, despite his cool manner, feel and broke his wrist.  Out of sheer guilt, Connelly accompanied him to the ER. 

Mason clutched his wrist, unwilling to admit the pain he was in.  Connelly glanced at him, trying to figure out what his face might look like if it was not screwed up in a pained expression.  Somehow, that aggrieved face was familiar. 

“I broke my wrist once,” Connelly commented awkwardly. 

“Hmm.  That doesn't make me feel better,” Mason said calmly, his voice breaking only once.

“They’ll give you painkillers.  That’ll make you feel better.” 

“One would expect so.”

Silence followed. 

Connelly sighed as he cringed.  “It’s better if you try not to think about it.”

“I've been reciting whole episodes of Doctor Who in my head.  It’s not working,” he muttered through clenched teeth. 

“Well, then let’s talk.  I've never watched Doctor Who before.  What’s it about?”

“Time-traveling aliens.” 

Connelly noted his difficulty in carrying on a conversation and wondered if it was the pain talking.  “What other shows do you watch?”

“Uh…  Bones, Criminal Minds, NCIS, Little People Big World, Gene Simmons’ Family Jewels…” 

“So I guess you like crime stuff.” 

“I guess I do like ‘crime stuff.’”  She didn’t like the way his tone dripped with sarcasm and a hint of distain.  “I am a criminology major.” 

 “I considered that one.  But I needed something easier.  Cheer takes up a lot of time,” she explained. 

“Understandable,” he commented.  “Some people can’t take the pressure.” 

Connelly’s face flared red as her temper boiled.  If there was one thing that annoyed her, other than crappy drivers, it was that people assumed that she was an imbecile because she was a cheerleader.  “And some people choose not to.” 

He shrugged; Connelly’s aggravation began to dissipate as he winced. 

A doctor saw Mason soon after, only to inform him of what he already knew, that he had a broken wrist.  Being Mason, he informed the kind doctor that a three-year-old could’ve made that diagnosis and requested more pain killers.  Connelly choked back a laugh, promising to take him back to his dorm.  She did so, and the two forgot about each other, their lives continuing normally. 

Except that’s not what happened.  Connelly did indeed take Mason home, but they did not disregard each other. 

Mason sat in front of his computer two nights later, incapable of writing his English paper that was due the next morning.  His inability was caused by his musings on whether or not a certain cheerleader could “take the pressure” like she implied. 

Mason crossed Connelly’s mind as she ran by the dorm she knew to be his.  She couldn’t figure out why the hipster interested her so; she generally preferred jocks and preps, rather than someone who shows distain for the members of both those categories. 

They passed each other on campus and awkwardly said hello.  Hello’s led to small talk, which led to coffee not-dates, which led to sorta-dates, which led to dates, which led to some sort of a relationship, which, after five months, led to, unfortunately, a break up. 

Even moments after the two split, both sides would’ve admitted that it was stupid and irrational.  Connelly wished Mason to go to a mixer with her.  Mason did not want to go.  Their argument went something like this. 

“There’s a mixer some friends invited me to.  It’s in about a month.  Wanna go?” 

“Why do you even want to go to one of those?”

“Um, wear a dress, talk to people, dance, have fun?  Where’s the downside?” 

“A bunch of drunken freshman.  Someone will kill someone else or something stupid.” 

“Since when would we take part in the drinking?”

“We wouldn’t, but what if someone slips something in your nonalcoholic drink?”

“That’s why I have you.” 

“Who invited you?”

“Jane.”

“I thought you said she’s a bimbo?”

“Well, she is.  But there will be other people there.”

“Bimbos generally invite bimbos.”

“Oh, so is that your opinion of me?”

And the dispute escalated until the two agreed that there was no way they could ever be together.  But they both knew that was false and walked away regretting every word said. 

Mason pretended to be all right, though he wasn’t.  His friends were convinced they’d broken up because she was too dumb for him.  He was sure it was all his fault. 

Connelly wept by night and laughed by day.  Her smiles turned to grimaces when she saw him.  She missed a class to cry after giving him a weak smile; he looked the other way.  But she still defended Mason when her friends claimed no one socially awkward like a nerdy hipster was worthy of her. 

They didn’t speak until the night of the mixer that had caused the whole catastrophe in the first place. 

It started when Mason was told that Connelly would be going with some blockhead from the basketball team.  Brooding, Mason wondered if she would laugh with the idiot the way she laughed with him.  He thought about her smile and obsession with art.  Staring at the painting she’d made for his birthday, Mason came to the realization that he wanted Connelly back. 

He ran from the dorm to her apartment and pushed the buzzer until she let him up. 

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he said as soon as she opened the door.  It was true, after all.  She wore a turquoise, strapless dress with her wavy, blonde hair swept into a ponytail over her left shoulder. 

“Thanks.”  Connelly shrugged, showing no emotion. 

They both stood there in an awkward silence till Connelly spoke. 

“Well, it’s great to see you, Mason, but I’ve got to go soon.” 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t go.”  He swallowed. 

Her eyes narrowed.  “Mason, who are you to tell me where not to go?” 

“I’m nobody.”

Connelly sighed heavily.  “Okay, I know you.  There’s a ‘but’ in there.  Let’s just get this over with.”

He spoke quickly, knowing he would lose his nerve if he didn’t get on with it.  “But I don’t want to be nobody.  I want to get back in your life.  I know this sounds crazy, but I don’t feel like we’re actually apart.  It’s like we’re just in a fight because I know both of our hearts are still in this.  Couples fight, and it happens, and I don’t want to be over because we got mad at each other.  I want to work through fights, but only if it’s with you.” 

If the story of Connelly and Mason was a movie, it would cut off after they kissed and promised to be more accommodating of each other.  He said the right thing at the right time.  She teared up and let him back into her heart.  “The End” would be superimposed on the two as they smiled at each other and the credits would roll. 

But their tale is not a movie, and not every love story has a happy ending. 

Connelly and Mason went through college, for the most part, without any snags.  Mason graduated after three years and began working on his doctorate in criminal psychology.  Connelly changed her major to criminology and minored in art history and French.  They fought as any couple is sure to do, but, as they’d promised, worked through it all. 

Until Mason left Denver.  He explained to Connelly that he was transferring to the University of New Hampshire.  And that she was not part of his plan. 

Mason move on, finished his doctorate, found a lucrative job, and got married. 

Connelly watched her life fall apart.  She was too old for anything cheer-related and struggled to find a job.  After moving to DC, she was employed as a translator.  She cried herself to sleep every once in a while, even years later. 

Mason got over everything between them, not knowing he had been it for Connelly.  Maybe she closed herself off, maybe they were soul mates.  Whatever the reason, Connelly never married, never dated. 

Sometimes she thought about finding someone like him.  Someone sarcastic but sweet, funny but serious, scathing but loveable.  Then, she would remember that all she would get is someone like Mason. 

She would never have Mason. 

What? You mean...YESTERDAY was Friday? WELL WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME!

1. I don't have to go to school, so apparently I completely lose track of what day it is.
2. Ex. I fell asleep last night thinking it was Thursday.
3. And then, in the middle of the night, I realized my mistake and went back to sleep.
4. This tends to happen to me alot.
5. Anyway, so this week on P. Meggy's Lists of Life: my random obsessions.
6. (I will attempt to refrain from mentioning BBC America)
7. Kingdom Hearts. Maybe I'm a dork, but I'm just now getting into this game. I literally bought the first one for PlayStation 2 last week.
8. I can't help that I get a childish glee that I am talking to Phil from Hercules, or the Cheshire Cat. I'm that lame. (Or cool, depending on how you look at it.)
9. I would put Legend of Zelda here, but I've spent over 24 hours of my life trying to beat Twilight Princess.
10. See? When I said random obsessions, I really meant it.
11. Another one: Burn Notice. And I'm trying (once again) to teach myself how to play the guitar.
12. Michael Westen is awsom. And my fingers hurt. (I guess I'm a piano player at heart. Maybe some flute...)
13. On a different note, I have soccer tryouts again today. With a new coach.
14. For those of you who don't understand my pain and frustration, having a new coach is nerve wracking. But it's also like buying a book you haven't read before.
15. The excerpt on the back or the inside cover may seem really good. Or really bad. But you don't know if you like it or not until your halfway through.
16. So, this list was not quite as sporadic as most of my others...darn...have a random bulletpoint to make it a Saturday Sixteen.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

Things That Are Stupid.

WA--cha!!!!

Great way to start a post, huh??  


I think you are intrigued, Friendly Reader.  Are you??  

For those of you who said yes--I am glad.  Yes, you have a right to be intrigued.  I am ranting today, more so than an insecure thirteen-year-old on facebook.  


For those of you who said no--You stink.  You're not a hipster just because you say no!!  

Item number one on today's agenda--House

I personally think that the writers/people with the ideas of House need to get over this desire to make House's life terrible and learn to be satisfied when something good comes along in life.  

Item number two on today's agenda--The Dateable Rules

A book by Justin Lookadoo and Hayley DiMarco.  Funny thing, I usually love those two writers.  Yet in their book, The Dateable Rules, they made the mistake of discouraging talking, and I quote, "when stuff really sucks."  I agree with them in that they recommend not dumping your whole life story on someone, but when life has a whole lot of crap, what am I going to do??  I'm not about to "just suck it up; life is too short."  No, I am going to call P Meggy the Mystical or another close friend!!  I will rant and rave to that companion until I feel somewhat content!!  Since when has bottling up one's feelings ever been remotely healthy??  

Item number three on today's agenda--Having a ten-year-old computer

Honestly, it's just bothersome.  

Item number four on today's agenda--No TIVA!!

For those of you who aren't fanfiction nerds like P Meggy the Mild and myself, that is the nerd pairing name for Tony and Ziva of NCIS.  Why aren't they flirting incessantly and pretending they don't like each other??  Because they don't like each other, and that's stupid.  

So, for all you who think I am a Debbie Downer, here is my list of things that don't suck.  

1. Jon Foreman (I can't make a list without mentioning him, can I??)

2. Bones (Hooray for Brennan and Booth finally sort of having a relationship!! Hooray for Hodgins and Angela's baby not being blind!! Hooray for Sweets beeing awsom!!)  
3. Fiction Family (Oh goodness, I love them!!)
4. Hugh Grant (I watched About a Boy last night.  He's so hilarious!!)

 5. The Classic Crime (because I'll never get tired of them.  Matt McDonald, will you marry me??  Don't worry, I'm half-joking.)

6. Costco (Where else can I buy 72 bagel bites all at once and eat cheap, artery-clogging, delicious pizza??)
7. Psych (Anybody know when it comes back??  Do I see a raised hand at the back??)  

8. WHITE COLLAR IN SIX DAYS!!!! (OH GOODNESS!!)

See?? I am not a Debbie Downer.  I provided you with twice as many awsom (no e's) things and unpleasant things.  


An Inconceivable Goodbye from CatCooper<3

P.S. OH GOONDESS, a new letter!! :)


P.P.S.  Add The Princess Bride to my second list.  


P.P.P.S  And spell check.  


P.P.P.P.S And procrastinating.