Photo credit to Jacqueline Xie
Jacqueline Xie
@Jacqjacq88 kination/holland
http://www.youtube.com/jacquex
Additional simple text graphics by me.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Kina Grannis Street Team poster ideas
Photo credit to Jacqueline Xie
Jacqueline Xie
@Jacqjacq88 kination/holland
http://www.youtube.com/jacquex
Additional simple text graphics by me.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
On Being Alone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs&feature=player_embedded
Source: http://www.bitrebels.com/geek/how-to-be-alone-and-be-happy/
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Life Lesson -
A Holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, 'Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.'
The Lord led the holy man to two doors.
He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.
In the middle of the room was a large round table.
In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew,
Which smelled delicious and made the holy man's mouth water.
The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly.
They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful.
But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.
The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.
The Lord said, 'You have seen Hell. They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one.
There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man's mouth water.
The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.
The holy man said, 'I don't understand.'
'It is simple,' said the Lord. 'It requires but one skill . . .
You see, they have learned to feed each other.
The greedy think only of themselves.'
When Jesus died on the cross, he was thinking of you.
The Lord led the holy man to two doors.
He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.
In the middle of the room was a large round table.
In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew,
Which smelled delicious and made the holy man's mouth water.
The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly.
They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful.
But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.
The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.
The Lord said, 'You have seen Hell. They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one.
There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man's mouth water.
The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.
The holy man said, 'I don't understand.'
'It is simple,' said the Lord. 'It requires but one skill . . .
You see, they have learned to feed each other.
The greedy think only of themselves.'
When Jesus died on the cross, he was thinking of you.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
A Beautiful Sentiment/ The Yellow Shirt - shared by my friend
The yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.
'You're not taking that old thing, are you?' Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt.. 'I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!'
'It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!' I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it.
After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois . But, that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 25 years earlier.
That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her 'real' gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again..
The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom.. The shirt!
And so the pattern was set.
On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture.. The walnut stains added character.
In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois . As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, 'So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up.'
I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt.. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.
Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet.
Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words 'I BELONG TO PAT.'
Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters.
Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, 'I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER.' But I didn't stop there.. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington , VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from 'The Institute for the Destitute,' announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds.
I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.
Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: 'Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother.'
That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: 'I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives.. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me.'
The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.
I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art.. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.
'You're not taking that old thing, are you?' Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt.. 'I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!'
'It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!' I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it.
After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois . But, that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 25 years earlier.
That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her 'real' gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again..
The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom.. The shirt!
And so the pattern was set.
On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture.. The walnut stains added character.
In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois . As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, 'So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up.'
I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt.. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.
Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet.
Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words 'I BELONG TO PAT.'
Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters.
Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, 'I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER.' But I didn't stop there.. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington , VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from 'The Institute for the Destitute,' announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds.
I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.
Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: 'Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother.'
That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: 'I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives.. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me.'
The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.
I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art.. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Equality???
I am trying to understand what Equality means today. When I look around I see different groups who say they are equals, but who get indignant when you ask them why they still demand special treatment if they are true equals.
The truth is that Equal treatment under the law does not exist and I wonder if it ever has.
There are many areas I can take this subject. Tonight I will focus on Women.
How is it that between the hours of 9 to 5 women want to be treated (read- PAID!) no differently than men, but after the work day is done women still insist it is the role of men to pay for all dates? Even women who make three times the money than men makes still expects the men to pay!
How are women ever going to be viewed as true equals if they insist on this contradiction between the work place and the social scene?
How are men supposed to ignore your femininity during work hours and then give it special treatment after work?
Oh, a note to successful women that think men are intimidated by your success:
For centuries it has been custom for the more successful, higher ranking person (read - man)to pursue the affections of the less successful person (read - woman)
Less successful people that pursue more successful people are seen in a bad light (read - gold digger) Men are not pursuing you because you don't need them. Men have been trained to pursue women that show they NEED a man. If you are presenting yourself as someone who does not NEED a man, then it makes sense that men do not pursue you. My suggestion to successful women is to act a bit more EQUAL and if their is a man that interest you that is not as successful as you are, ask him out. He will be flabbergasted, I am sure, but you best learn the true meaning of Equality or risk staying single. This new paradigm may take time to adjust to, but if you don't face it you will suffer for it.
Ladies, if you cannot LEAD a man he will never consider you his EQUAL!
Sure, men will give this Equality thing Lip Service, but deep down in their hearts they still will think women are "less than" because of the insistence of many women on holding on to the perks of being seen as the "weaker sex."
The intimate relationship between a man and a woman is the Strongest relationship bond that Influences how men see women. Every time it is said, "this is a man's job/role" your saying women are Incapable of performing this function.
Perhaps we should give up this notion that women are the equal of men.
From what I have seen thus far, few women are prepared to be a man's equal.
The truth is that Equal treatment under the law does not exist and I wonder if it ever has.
There are many areas I can take this subject. Tonight I will focus on Women.
How is it that between the hours of 9 to 5 women want to be treated (read- PAID!) no differently than men, but after the work day is done women still insist it is the role of men to pay for all dates? Even women who make three times the money than men makes still expects the men to pay!
How are women ever going to be viewed as true equals if they insist on this contradiction between the work place and the social scene?
How are men supposed to ignore your femininity during work hours and then give it special treatment after work?
Oh, a note to successful women that think men are intimidated by your success:
For centuries it has been custom for the more successful, higher ranking person (read - man)to pursue the affections of the less successful person (read - woman)
Less successful people that pursue more successful people are seen in a bad light (read - gold digger) Men are not pursuing you because you don't need them. Men have been trained to pursue women that show they NEED a man. If you are presenting yourself as someone who does not NEED a man, then it makes sense that men do not pursue you. My suggestion to successful women is to act a bit more EQUAL and if their is a man that interest you that is not as successful as you are, ask him out. He will be flabbergasted, I am sure, but you best learn the true meaning of Equality or risk staying single. This new paradigm may take time to adjust to, but if you don't face it you will suffer for it.
Ladies, if you cannot LEAD a man he will never consider you his EQUAL!
Sure, men will give this Equality thing Lip Service, but deep down in their hearts they still will think women are "less than" because of the insistence of many women on holding on to the perks of being seen as the "weaker sex."
The intimate relationship between a man and a woman is the Strongest relationship bond that Influences how men see women. Every time it is said, "this is a man's job/role" your saying women are Incapable of performing this function.
Perhaps we should give up this notion that women are the equal of men.
From what I have seen thus far, few women are prepared to be a man's equal.
Monday, March 15, 2010
PSA- Living on the Edge - Subway Safety
Last week a woman lost her life because of following one bad decision with an even worse decision.
If you live in New York City you may have seen the story in the news.
From what I have gathered, she dropped her bag and it fell on the train tracks.
Then she went down on to the tracks to get it back.
Her first bad decision was to be standing so close to the edge of the train station platform.
If she had been standing the recommended three feet away from the edge, her bag would most likely not have fallen on to the tracks. It would have fallen on the platform and it would have been a simple matter to pick it up.
Her second bad decision is obvious to all of us.
Too often we make decisions without fully considering the possible consequences to ourselves and to others.
I feel sad for this woman and for her family. I am angry at this woman as well. She made an ignorant decision and followed it up with a stupid one.
She overvalued her property and undervalued her life.
How about you? Do you have your priorities straight?
If you live in New York City you may have seen the story in the news.
From what I have gathered, she dropped her bag and it fell on the train tracks.
Then she went down on to the tracks to get it back.
Her first bad decision was to be standing so close to the edge of the train station platform.
If she had been standing the recommended three feet away from the edge, her bag would most likely not have fallen on to the tracks. It would have fallen on the platform and it would have been a simple matter to pick it up.
Her second bad decision is obvious to all of us.
Too often we make decisions without fully considering the possible consequences to ourselves and to others.
I feel sad for this woman and for her family. I am angry at this woman as well. She made an ignorant decision and followed it up with a stupid one.
She overvalued her property and undervalued her life.
How about you? Do you have your priorities straight?
Monday, February 8, 2010
Kina Grannis New Album- Stairwells
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=840NbiFF1zM&feature=player_embedded
Go to http://www.kinagrannis.com/ to DOWNLOAD FREE mp3 of "Valentine."
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Bad boys and Nice Guys
Are you a Nice Guy?
Well stop being so nice.
The problem for Nice Guys is that women say they want to be respected but then turn around and date a Bad boy.
The reason bad boys get more action is simple.
Bad boys are willing to provoke women and tell women that having sex is a great thing they should be doing together.
Women want sex as much as men, but most are not willing to be the provocateur.
Bad boys are really good at making women feel its o.k. to be wild and enjoy sex.
I think what happens is real Nice Guys are more about respecting a woman then sexing her and many women care more about sex then respect.
Consider women that are willing to play the role of Jump Off.
This is the problem I see with women who refuse to take leadership in this arena.
I do not think anyone should be treated as nothing but a tool to get off.
Well, I doubt many men really mind this role for themselves, but women should be careful about accepting this role due to what it teaches men; that its o.k. to have sex with and not care about a woman's feelings.
See, men are not as emotionally attached to sex as women tend to be.
Women who attempt to act like a man's equal in this I think are hurting themselves and womankind.
I can see why women would prefer to be used by a Bad boy, since they can depend on this guy not getting emotionally attached.
Now so its clear to you Nice Guys, if she is dating Bad boys it means she is not ready for a Real commitment.
Or
Here is this other theory I been thinking about.
I call it the Double Chase Theory.
The way I see it in this scenario, a woman needs to be able to chase the man as well as be chased.
The way it plays out is that the Bad boy chases her for her body, but not her heart.
She in turn then starts to chase him for his heart.
This way both have the opportunity to chase and be chased.
Both become predator and prey.
Nice Guys with a focus on winning her heart are already offering theirs and do not allow the woman an opportunity to be the chaser.
So what's a Nice Guy to do?
What's your priority, to establish a relationship or to just get laid?
My current thinking is that you avoid trying to establish a relationship.
If she wants one then let that be her opportunity to chase to win your heart.
For now if your a Nice Guy, I say just give her a warm smile and let her know you like her and want to spend quality time, then kiss her the first chance you get.
Offer her your body but make her earn your heart.
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