Scratch That

Ollo! Merry Christmas! JESUS IS BORN! ...even though some  scholars say He was probably born in the spring sometime. BOO, PARTY POOPER SCHOLARS!!! Fun loving and chill scholars, your'e good. We're celebrating. (Sorry party pooper scholars. Merry Christmas- ba dum bum tss) My philosophy is, if the  exact birthday of the  Hero of the World got lost, what's wrong with still celebrating? What's worse, picking a most likely wrong day and still honoring the Christ, or abstaining altogether? Am I the only one who, upon hearing the word  Scholar , thinks of a pale, dusty, and bespectacled guy  with his nose glued to dusty books (no, I did not mess up my noun numbers, I meant numerous books glued to one nose:), a candle flickering in the foregr ound? Just me? Okay. Anyways, things are constantly changing in my life. (Constantly changing: does that mean that if things stayed the same for a change, it wouldn't be staying the same? Smart people: work it out for the rest o

Context: I don't know when I wrote this, but I do know under what circumstances. I was assigned to write a paper on Winnie the Pooh, and hated it. Pooh Bear comprised a significant and nostalgic part of my childhood, and ironing him wrinkle-less and dead in pencil lead and cold analysis didn't hold much appeal. Yet, required it was.  Here is the surprisingly satisfying (given the circumstances) result, unedited from the original: A Three Paragraph Paper on Pooh Bear (Me) Oh bother. Seeing as I am a bear of very little brain, I don't know quite how to begin. Oh dear, did I spell that right? I don't have the slightest idea. Do you have any honey? Christopher Robin was reading a book to me; owl's tree makes a cozy spot for hearing his stories, and eating honey. And then the story came to life. There was a real Alice, and a real rabbit, and even a real hole that alice, poor dear, fell into. After we were done, I asked Christopher Robin, I said "Chris

Hey, everyone. Thanksgiving is almost here (yay!) and I have gone and pulled a cliche on you: the Thankful list. Forgive me, I meant/ mean no harm.  I am thankful for my family, for me, for my cow... - Mushu Thanksgiving But really (the whole but seriously thing wasn't working): I am thankful for my Savior, my family, my friends (!), a very good church home,    our neighbors,  provision-ish stuff (food, clothes, roof, transport, mail services, etc.), a relatively peaceful place to live, pretty great health, our pets,  music, internet (!), the list could go on and on. And does.  A few points/amendments (because... that's how Scratch That tends to work): One, the listed blessings are lovely and I appreciate them. But I don't really need some of these. Plenty of people live without great health, and there are tons of nations on earth whose citizens must face danger constantly. Is this something I hope for myself or anyone else? Of course not!  But out of this list, t

No matter whether you're homeschooled or, gasp and faint, public schooled or private schooled, or in college, or whatever.  (I have nothing personal against anyone because of any given schooling system-  except maybe my first grade bus driver who lost me on the first day. In the middle of Raleigh. Of course I don't hold a grudge, what are you talking about?-  However, as a homeschooler, there are stereotypes and stigmas to uphold.)  School is school. Some things stay the same. We can commiserate/enjoy common things, and observe differences with calm and reserved  superiority  interest .  But seriously (if seriously was a thing on Scratch That ), let us mourn together over the calamity that school can be, and yet relish the joys of learning. First off, I took the PSAT last Wednesday. Urgle. Anyone who is/was a high school junior this year knows the pain of insufficient time to complete the math section. Or the feeling that your overachieving desk neighbor is going to single-

(Tardy means tardy, while late can mean either tardy or dead, so...) Much to your disappointment I am sure, today is not going to be all that deep and philosophy and snobby. (Sorry, me of the past. You were kinda snobby. Probably still are.)  I recently realized that, unless you actually know me, you probably have no idea who this Thea person is. Here's the solution to this pressing issue- My fans must have their rabid curiosity appeased. Ergo, we shall begin with my name. Thea FitzEmma is not my real title. Gasp. Whoa. AWESTRUCK SILENCE- but not really. Its not that big of a deal. And you most likely already knew that. The reason I have a pseudonym isn't because there are creeps on the internet; nor to feel uber-cool, as the phrase "I'm feeling uber-cool," in fact, instantaneously makes one anti- whatever uber-cool is trying to mean. Thea FitzEmma came out of a nickname, pure and simple. What else? I fell in love with Jesus when He saved me from myse

*Sigh* It's happened. Oh, well, it had to at some point. Actually, maybe we should celebrate! SOUND THE TRUMPETS AND BRING OUT THE CHEESE! You're like: What is it? Get to the point, seriously. Fine. The aged milk products and shiny brass noisemakers can wait.  You know how I told you I tend to back up and rethink/clarify some of my opinions, expectations, and wishes? See first post if unfamiliar... The last post, though not outright saying so,  suggested that all the weight of my relationship with God rests on me. NOT true. It also suggested that my emotions are an ever-accurate representation of my walk with Jesus. Also NOT true.  Will God's and my relationship benefit unimaginably from us spending time together in His Word and in prayer? Definitely. Will I grow and probably feel great around other believers gathered in His name? Past experience says yes, 100 percent. Do I still stand by almost everything in July 31st's page? Certainly. But notice the almos

It's the middle of summer. For me, this means a plethora of camps on which I always spend my yearly adrenaline stores. Last night, I returned home (half asleep, might I add; apparently the three mugs of coffee this anti-caffeine crusader consumed had little effect) from a month long- ahem, a week long - spiritual high. The camp had good worship, there were tears, and sleep was a distant memory. Sounds great, right? Except... how can I put this? Ah, yes: NO.  What actually occurred pushed the bounds of my reality. Calling the past week a spiritual high would be like calling the unfathomable processes of the human mind a confusing mess of misguided electrons. Gross. This week, God worked in each person intimately and lovingly, including in me. I cannot begin to describe the beauty of forty-something souls raising their voices to praise their Savior, or the way bittersweet tears can create bonds between believers or take place of audible words in a desperate prayer.

Hello, World.  This is my very first Scratch That post, so in it I'm explaining the name of this site and giving you a frame of reference for further posts. It's like this: Nobody stays the same. You have changed since you were a baby, and since yesterday. I know I have. Some of these differences I like, such as being able to talk now, but others I don't care for quite as much, such as the growing evidence attesting that I am frightfully imperfect. I'm sure, if we're honest, you can relate. As you and I change, fail, get confused, and grow, our lenses of perception shift. We learn that our views can change as well. I find myself changing my stance on a subject every once in a while, and it shakes my oh-so-comfortable world. I must then return to that subject and say, "Um, scratch that." Hence, the christening of this blog.  This presents a problem. If I and all of humanity are flawed, which, hello, we are, what happens? Is Truth with a capita