Jounal entry

April 23, 2006
Sunday
1:12 p.m.

Not a cloud remains to dare try obscuring the view. The "vista." Their season of triumph has passed and they now retreat--acknowledging defeat. Our Creator has once again allowed dear Pan to enter the stage of our charmed lives. Our hearts are full now. His grace has filled them with joy that exceeds all limits. His majestic mountain stands as ever, the symbol of veracity. The symbol of faithfulness. God could not have manifested his nature more clearly than in the ever-present mountain. The mountain that changes never. Beside it, Baker's sisters gaze, as lovely as ever in their sweet simplicity, upon our valley here below. They seem to smile on us, challenging our petty worries and squabbles, with all-knowing, quiet joy. They are so still. Yet they are bursting with vitality nevertheless. I wonder now, whether they can resist just dancing a little bit. Our valley is humming with the innocent, wondrous activity of Spring. Sometimes in my fanciful mind, I wonder if perhaps the mountains are skipping with the pure joy of it all, each time I look away. Perhaps if I look long enough, they will not be able to bear the stillness, and begin to dance, despiting my curiously impertinent gaze.

Bless the Lord, Oh my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name!

I am beautiful!

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay--and I pity any girl who isn't meee toooooday..." -Maria

Well. So I suppose I owe you all a sufficiently reassuring explanation for my oddity of a title. Never fear, I shall oblige. Perhaps not quite so fully as you would like, or with so great abandon as you would wish.

Congratulate me! For as of Tuesday, 20 April, 2006, I have suddenly, instantaneously, and quite miraculously, become beautiful, unique, quite bright, and very pious. That is, I am all these things if indeed the word of charming seventeen-year-old gentlemen in general may be given credibility. Enough said. Let me assure you all that I hardly attribute all these scintillating qualities to myself.

Fret not, this too shall pass. As too, shall the young gentleman in question, once I turn him down with as much kindness and tact as I can muster.