Moving on!!! So ladies high jump starts today in Beijing... I am vouching for Blanka Vlašić of Croatia!!! Why?! Well she is exactly my height... 6'4"... she is born two days before me... so I feel a slight bit of a connection to this girl. She also has the ability to jump over me whilst I am standing upright... and well she performs better at the one athletic sport I ever was really interested in at school!! To think I could have been where she is right now, if I had made different choices in life.

It just goes to show how much of life is what You make of it.... its all in your head. If I had set my mind to it I could have been an Olympic High jumper... I could have been a Chef, I could have been a doctor, or a rocket scientist... and member of a band... ANYTHING!!! Most of what we experience in this world is dependent on how we 'want' to see it, or how we 'think' it is... I probably never would have believed in myself enough to become an Olympic Athlete, but if someone had believed in me at school and pushed me, I probably could have made it. I was jumping over 1.5m when I was like 15. Just think what I could be doing now.... and we will never know! The world will only ever see my achievements via the Visual Impression I make thru my work. That's who I am!!! I dig it, firstly because I chose this path for my life, and by choosing it... I accept it and let it fulfill me and make me happy!!!

Happiness is not something you randomly stumble upon in your journey thru life.. its what you make of life right now!!! I may not be totally happy wih my life, but show me one person you truly is... you'll never find that person, trust me!!!

So its 1:44am now, and still got that crap in my throat... why!!!!!

-teehee, it would make me happy to meet Blanka, LMAO!!!

Hace años leí un libro, La Gran Colección. Intentar recordar el autor sería un esfuerzo en vano, y no recuerdo mayor cosa del texto, pero sí que fue de los primeros libros que leí por decisión propia, escarbando en la gran biblioteca de la casa, por cierto gran en número, mas no necesariamente en calidad. En ese mismo tiempo también encontré Crimen y Castigo de Dostoievsky, un libro que dejó huellas profundas y cambió mi forma de entender la literatura, la que nunca más fue mera diversión. La Gran Colección no hizo eso, y probablemente si lo leyera hoy lo descartaría como otro best seller más. No buscaré el libro para salir de la duda (lo que no es realmente cierto, no lo buscaré porque tras la reciente mudanza si bien no lo busqué, tampoco apareció). Por otro lado, buscar por internet un libro con un nombre así sería una experiencia suficientemente tediosa como para siquiera intentarlo, y para demostrarlo lo busqué, encontrando grandes colecciones en miles de agobiantes resultados.

Lo que si tenía ese libro era un surrealismo exquisito, o al menos lo suficiente como para cautivar a un jovencito inexperto en todas las artes como lo era yo. Un hombre, en medio de la nada, encuentra una enorme colección. ¿De qué? si mal no recuerdo era algo así como la bodega de un museo de historia natural. No recuerdo bien si además había arte. Puede que si. Si, de hecho lo había. El final no lo recuerdo, pero puedo inferir que un día la colección desapareció tan súbitamente como aparecío. Así son las cosas en la vida, no siempre tan mágicas, pero más seguido de lo que quisieramos creer tanto o más surrealistas.

Colecciones. Libros, música, monedas, estampillas, personas, cosas, cosas, ese afan por poseer es tan humano. Acaso una necesidad de plasmar de alguna manera lo que somos. Acaso lo que desearíamos ser.

Y ese padre no tiene interés alguno en ser un perrito autoadhesivo.

Hehe....tiba2 terdengar lak lagu ni...saje je post lagu ni kat sini....I'm coming back home...but dunno when..

Okay sudah bab lagu itu. Hari ni alhamdulillah dah setel survey and boleh start collecting data. For those who are interested to participate in my online survey, just let me know and by posting your comment and give your email. I will delete your message and protect your email from others. Don't worry because the survey is anonymous. I won't know which one is your response. If you met these criteria or if you know any of your friends that met the criteria, please let me know so that I can send you my invitation email for the survey.

The criteria are:

a) must be employed and using computer at his/her workplace
b) using Internet at home

A bit relieve with that even though it is the beginning of the process..but I am happy as long as it is progressing ;-)

I am grateful to Allah for everything...

Now, I need to settle my conference paper before this weekend...this is my promise to my supervisor. Hopefully I am able to fulfill my promise..Amin.

Cuántas veces habré tenido esa conversación....

Aprovechando mi inminente regreso al duro mundo del squash ( desde que estuve en Santiago, no pude entrenar como es debido ), publico este post, para que al menos los que me lean, sepan qué deporte es y también para reclamar que se convierta en deporte olímpico, sobre todo después de enterarme que el badminton lo es ( por Dios! el badminton! ).

El squash, ese un deporte intenso que se juega entre tres paredes y un cristal al fondo( o las pistas chachis-profesionales que son todo cristal). Dentro de la pista hay dos jugadores (rivales) que tienen que evitar que la pelota toque en el suelo más de una vez, pudiendo dar cuantas veces se quiera contra las paredes y/o cristal y siempre dentro de unas líneas (pintadas en la pared) de campo. Se juega con raquetas de squash, que son parecidas a las de tenis, pero más alargadas y con una bola negra pequeñita ( con un tamaño similar a la cuenca del ojo, que es muy útil cuando te quieres quedar ciego cuando impacta sobre él xD) la cual hay que calentar antes de empezar a jugar, porque sino no bota.

Foto de Sara (oséase, mía) haciendo el bobo con la raqueta.

Esa es el tipo de raquetas con las que se juega, que puede variar un poquitín en su cabeza en función de la marca y el modelo. En su origen, eran raquetas de madera, pero hoy en día están hechas de materiales muy resistentes y poco pesados, sobre todo en los arcos superiores, que son donde más golpes llevan.

A la raqueta en particular que sale en la foto, le quedan pocas primaveras, se me ha rajado de un lado de la fuerza sobrehumana con que le doy a la bola xDDD, y solo es cuestión de tiempo que acabe cascando completamente.

El precio de las raquetas oscila entre 30€, las más chungas, a 150€ las más guays.

Hay diferentes tipos de bolas según el tipo de bote que tengan, y que vienen marcadas por unos puntos en su superficie. El bote, las hace más o menos veloces al golpearlas con la raqueta.

Para campeonatos, se juega con la de dos puntos, que aparece en la foto y es la que menos bota, y por lo tanto, más fuerte hay que dar.

Las bolas cuestan alrededor de 4€

En la foto, pista de squash del club Squash Milladoiro. En el centro, la menda, bien situada (cosa rara....) en la T (véase que la línea que está debajo de mis piernas es una T, y es el sitio desde donde se puede llegar más rápido a toda la pista). Alquilar una pista, puede resultar un poco caro dependiendo del sitio ( una hora en un sitio normal de precio, te puede salir bien a gusto por 8€, con bonos o siendo socio te sale más barato, pero no para tirar cohetes)

El squash es un deporte MUY divertido y que engancha enseguida, pero no exento de peligros. Lo primero que has de hacer para jugarlo es estar en forma, ya que sino, a los 5 minutos sales de la pista medio axfisiada y con la cara como un tomate. La pista es bastante pequeña para dos personas, y las distancias cortas, lo que se traduce en posibles raquetazos si uno no es demasiado experto y/o tiene malos reflejos y que las carreras han de ser rápidas y cortas hacia la bola, por lo que es importante tener una buena arrancada , frenazos y vuelta a empezar. Estos movimientos, son contínuos durante todo el partido por lo que hace al deporte muy intenso y cansado, con un desarrollo importante de músculos del brazo, cintura, culo y piernas. Aun así, no es un deporte complicado para principiantes, puesto que sin jugar bien, no es muy difícil darle a la bola y pasar igualmente un buen rato.

Como ya dije, este deporte no está exento de riesgos, y jugando con gente que no lo practica demasiado, más aún. Véase mi ojo (fotografía actual), con una poca favorecedora zona morada en el lagrimal, producto de un raquetazo en la nariz, de mi amado padre (qué ganas de dedía tener xD).

En muchos campeonatos, sobre todo en los junior, es obligatorio llevar gafas de protección, pues como ya dije, la pelota es justo del tamaño de la cuenca del ojo, y puedes sufir graves lesiones en la visión si te impacta. (aunque como te dé en cualquier otras parte del cuerpo, también hace un daño que no veas, porque va a velocidades de la leche)

Ahí os dejo un ejemplo de como se juega (bien xD).

Si alguien se queda con gusanillo de jugar, que lo pruebe, no decepciona en absoluto, y con las hostias leches que le metes a la bola contra la pared, descargas tensiones que es una maravilla :)

Enlces de interés

http://www.rfesquash.es/

http://www.worldsquash.org.uk/

http://www.wispa.net/

http://www.psa-squash.com/

]]> http://yogamum.wordpress.com/?p=884 Wed, 20 Aug 2008 23:28:20 +0000 yogamum http://yogamum.wordpress.com/?p=884 God, how I love the Internets. So many time-wasting, trivial quiz thingies to do!

Found this over at Helen's:

Finally before I go, I knew there was something else I wanted to say about Planet of the Daleks in my last entry: in the opening scenes there's something odd: the TARDIS walls are completely different between scenes; before Jo goes out of the console room the wall just to the right behind the console has light-coloured illuminated roundels but when she returns it's got dark-coloured ones which aren't lit. It's hard to believe I've never noticed this before! :o

Charlie came to our household a stressed out rescue cat with very few manners and even fewer communication skills.  He had a dislike of people, dogs and everything, except for his food, in that order.  Once he got over the shock of moving to our home, he quickly went about training my mother by biting her to get her attention, quickly earning the nickname of Fang. We figured out quickly why the shelter never followed up on Charlie, they were just grateful we never came back with him. 

When the cat tried to sink his diminuative teeth into me, I would pick him up and corporally cuddle him.  Telling him how much I loved him and how if he sank his little sharp teeth into me, I’d give him to the dog.  Somehow the cat understood the very real threat.  Of course, the dog would only slobber him to death, being a pro-feline canine. 

 [googlevideo=http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=595298384530673924&hl=en&fs=true\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\"> ]

After a six month human/cat/dog training program, we all came to an understanding.  The cat rules the roost.  The dog loves the cat and will do anything for his acceptance.  The dog and cat are best friends and the humans clean, care for and feed both animals.

Who said animals weren’t smarter than humans.

I wonder what it would have been like for all involved if all the puppy walkers COULD have attended. I think a Puppy Walkers Tea  could be a valuable and enjoyable opportunity for some people, but potentially awkward for others. I have yet to meet A.A. ( a then-15 year old) who raised Opal, though I have spoken to her many times, exchanged letters and gifts, and e-mailed her mum (a writer) hundreds of times.  I now have an arsenal of Opal stories that could curl your hair...well, that's for another blog... Sure, WE would have gotten along swimmingly at a Puppy Walkers Tea, but I have heard stories (maybe that's all they are) about such encounters that did not turn out quite so well. It is a tense time...gotta be. The new handler is stressed after a rigorous month of training and wants to get home and settled, the dog is transitioning from trainer to the new handler so it is probably  a little stressed too, and the puppy walker walks into the midst of it all?  I think that it would all go well, provided that everyone understands their roles; the puppy walker is no longer 'top dog' in the relationship. That dog is now in a special relationship with its blind handler. The handler must remain cool and know that their dog will recognize the puppy walker and want to express its emotion.  The trainers and staff have an obligation to keep everyone clear on the ground rules for the meeting. For example, it is no longer the puppy walker's role to give any type of command to the dog...not even 'sit'.

I am so pleased and grateful to hear from all the puppy walkers and puppy raisers who have written to me through this blog. Please realise that those pups are treasured after you 'let them go'.  Do not think for a moment that your role is not as important as that of the professional trainers who actually train the dog to do all the fancy stuff, like stop at curbs and go around obstacles.  These formative months in a dog's life (before it trains), are critical. If you take that dog everywhere and expose it to social situations, surfaces, noises and so on, then you will have done the grunt work that allows for a potentially fearless Guide dog.

Amigo mío, si te pide perdón alguna vez dile:

‘’No me pidas perdón, pues sabes bien que no puedo darte lo que no existe, y Tú no tienes perdón. Confórmate con mi conciencia, regodéate con tu triunfo, enseña mis orejas al tendido, pavonéate delante mi cadáver, arráncame la piel a tiras, cuelga mi cabeza en tu pared, disfruta tu momento de gloria cada vez que me veas, pero no me pidas perdón. Es lo único que no me has arrebatado y no voy a dártelo, no voy a desnudar a mi ego mientras lo miras con lascivia, sigue odiándome sin motivos y así mantendremos el equilibrio que ha de haber en el mundo. ‘’

Y después que lea aquí

Dignificar significa en primer lugar respetar lo que ha sucedido. Es decir, no entrar de cualquier manera en el lugar y el momento. Estar atento a lo que sucede no es ser una apisonadora de personas intentando buscar una palabra que haga subir la audiencia de la cadena, ni una imagen tan dantesca que impacte mucho en el "consumidor de información". Dignificar es, por tanto, dar respuesta desde el primer momento a las personas que están viviendo la noticia, por encima de los que la están viendo.

El segundo punto al que me quiero referir hoy es que la "noticia", que es nuevo, cuando se reduce a datos se reduce igualmente al ridículo. Que es lo contrario de lo que necesitamos: en lugar de ridiculizar o caricaturizar, buscando el detalle concreto o el dato sorprendente, debería humanizar, sea lo que sea, y trate de lo que trate.

Y por último. ¿Qué es noticia en nuestro mundo? ¿Quién dice qué es noticia? ¿Es la audiencia la que demanda o en la que se generan necesidades? ¿Quién enseña a ver la televisión, a conectarse a internet, a buscar lo que conviene?

I got my Leaving Cert results on Wednesday. Just like everybody else in the country!

For those of you who don't know the Leaving cert is the big exam at the end of Highschool. You get certain amount of points for each grade, add up your highest six and that your overall points. Each college course has a number of points you need to get in to it.
And for the record, for those of you that wish to find out what I got, hereis the following:

English (Higher) - C3
Art (Higher) - C2
History (Ordinary) - B3
Music (Ordinary) - A2
Italian (Ordinary) - C2
Maths (Foundation) - B2
Irish (Foundation) - B1

I got 240 points (discount foundation Level) The course I wanted was 350. So I didn't get into that. But I got my 5 passes for my PLC (Post Leaving Cert course) and that'll get my into the college course I want next year!
 
I feel good now!

How did everyone else do? If they did it, or if they did the A-Levels in England or the SATs in the US? eh?

I write to you from afar -- I guess that doesn't really quite make sense on the internet does it?.  Suffice it to say I'm not at my usual post, I write a dispatch "from the field," and moreover I'm doing it with dial-up.

This picture above was something I found wedged inside one of my drawing notebooks.  I'd forgotten all about it.  But here it is.  It's a little still life "painted" using artist's crayons on linen.  I've both seen and read about some of Edouard Manet's pastels that he did on canvas and decided to make this picture on cloth just to be doing the same thing Manet did.  It goes along with my theory of walking a while inside the old masters' shoes. 

After having made trial of it myself, I'm afraid I cannot report back as to why Manet chose to do pastel on cloth as though it were a painting.  In my own picture, perhaps the chief effect is that the colors stand out against the warm brown-grey of the linen, which one must admit is kind of nice.  But overall I suppose there's no advantage in doing pastel on cloth (rather than on paper) that is immediately obvious.  It's one of those things to do, I guess, "just because."

So "just because" -- here  it is.  Nothing ventured nothing gained.  The objects are ones that held a special warm place in my heart.  The aluminum cup is one my mother used to measure sugar.  Its battered interior catches all kinds of silvery glimmers of light.  The other principle object is a bottle of mercurachrome, once used in quainter times to treat small cuts.

You can make a still life of the most unpreposessing things.

4^th Block English

JANUS

The night enveloped me as I, yet again, found myself strolling downtown. Lights illuminated the sidewalk like small suns floating only fifteen feet in the air. Something about the night and these walks always intrigued me and filled me with wonder. I felt as though there was something for me here and have felt this way for as long as I can recall. Tonight, however, was different: Tonight I found Janus.

Before me now stands a monolithic edifice, towering as tall as any other five-story building, as long as any apartment building. Despite its domineering size, this place only had a few minute doors—each of which did not bear locks. A digital screen was bolted to the wall above the door ahead of me now, bearing the word ‘JANUS’. Even stranger than all of those details, however, was the fact that this place struck me as the most inviting building I’d seen in my life.

I’ve been wandering Janus’ halls for several minutes now. Each wall is designed with intricate artwork that is neither abstract nor realistic:  Noir images of people and animals dashed and leapt from black and white designs. I stopped my strut as I found the first door in the foyer. A quick glance down this ever-winding passage rewarded me with no end in sight.

The door opened with a light push, swinging inwards. This new room smelt of lavender and nature. It was an expansive space, modest in its bearings, shelves lining the walls, books lining the shelves, and perhaps billions of words lining those books. I lost myself in this knowledge only to find that every volume was either one I’d read before or written on subjects of which I had already conquered. It seemed awkward to have knowledge this profuse, yet I truly did know each thing that was scribed and stowed away within this library.

Few other doors littered the hallway, each containing a simple room—one stacked with computers and screens, another filled with trophies and artifacts of triumph, and yet another annex to the hall held nothing but ever-burning candles. I had not pondered the absence of others in this place until the hall ended at a large-double door. These doors, unlike the latter, took force and effort to open. Though it was odd that I was alone, I chose not to think on it much. The doors flung open to a completely new place. Photographs graced every wall; each of these framed differently, each of these in a variety of sizes. If I had been curious before, this room was the one that put the hook in my lip. Every picture in this room depicted memorable people and events in someone’s life: Mine.

Images of the girls I had once loved were large and imposing, those of my travels to distant lands not nearly as prominent. Each of my friends was depicted here as well. Teachers, pets, animals, places, events, swimmers, artwork, video games, and every other thing that I could remember was shown here. In an instant, my inquisitiveness gave way to fear. Who took these? Who stalked me this far? Did they lead me here tonight, somehow?

Running now, down the hallway, almost to the exit, I take deep breaths as I dart forward. Upon throwing the door open I only found myself in an even more chaotic situation. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of rooms sprawled forth before me—there was no way this building could house these all. Quick glances inside several were unnecessary. I knew, without that, what each room represented. I knew that each was a shred of my own personality, physically represented in this place. Sweat trailed down my spine, hair stood on end at my neck, and my eyes darted quickly from room to room. A scream escaped my lungs.

Still sweating, I gasped for air. Deep breaths and another gaze at my surroundings proved that I was in a much different place; my own bed. It was all merely a dream. I’ve pondered that dream for days now, wondering of its significance. Today I’ve found it out. Janus was no strange museum that existed only within my subconscious: It was my very soul.

4^th Block English

JANUS

The night enveloped me as I, yet again, found myself strolling downtown. Lights illuminated the sidewalk like small suns floating only fifteen feet in the air. Something about the night and these walks always intrigued me and filled me with wonder. I felt as though there was something for me here and have felt this way for as long as I can recall. Tonight, however, was different: Tonight I found Janus.

Before me now stands a monolithic edifice, towering as tall as any other five-story building, as long as any apartment building. Despite its domineering size, this place only had a few minute doors—each of which did not bear locks. A digital screen was bolted to the wall above the door ahead of me now, bearing the word ‘JANUS’. Even stranger than all of those details, however, was the fact that this place struck me as the most inviting building I’d seen in my life.

I’ve been wandering Janus’ halls for several minutes now. Each wall is designed with intricate artwork that is neither abstract nor realistic:  Noir images of people and animals dashed and leapt from black and white designs. I stopped my strut as I found the first door in the foyer. A quick glance down this ever-winding passage rewarded me with no end in sight.

The door opened with a light push, swinging inwards. This new room smelt of lavender and nature. It was an expansive space, modest in its bearings, shelves lining the walls, books lining the shelves, and perhaps billions of words lining those books. I lost myself in this knowledge only to find that every volume was either one I’d read before or written on subjects of which I had already conquered. It seemed awkward to have knowledge this profuse, yet I truly did know each thing that was scribed and stowed away within this library.

Few other doors littered the hallway, each containing a simple room—one stacked with computers and screens, another filled with trophies and artifacts of triumph, and yet another annex to the hall held nothing but ever-burning candles. I had not pondered the absence of others in this place until the hall ended at a large-double door. These doors, unlike the latter, took force and effort to open. Though it was odd that I was alone, I chose not to think on it much. The doors flung open to a completely new place. Photographs graced every wall; each of these framed differently, each of these in a variety of sizes. If I had been curious before, this room was the one that put the hook in my lip. Every picture in this room depicted memorable people and events in someone’s life: Mine.

Images of the girls I had once loved were large and imposing, those of my travels to distant lands not nearly as prominent. Each of my friends was depicted here as well. Teachers, pets, animals, places, events, swimmers, artwork, video games, and every other thing that I could remember was shown here. In an instant, my inquisitiveness gave way to fear. Who took these? Who stalked me this far? Did they lead me here tonight, somehow?

Running now, down the hallway, almost to the exit, I take deep breaths as I dart forward. Upon throwing the door open I only found myself in an even more chaotic situation. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of rooms sprawled forth before me—there was no way this building could house these all. Quick glances inside several were unnecessary. I knew, without that, what each room represented. I knew that each was a shred of my own personality, physically represented in this place. Sweat trailed down my spine, hair stood on end at my neck, and my eyes darted quickly from room to room. A scream escaped my lungs.

Still sweating, I gasped for air. Deep breaths and another gaze at my surroundings proved that I was in a much different place; my own bed. It was all merely a dream. I’ve pondered that dream for days now, wondering of its significance. Today I’ve found it out. Janus was no strange museum that existed only within my subconscious: It was my very soul.

I’m thinking of posting quotes from the text messages that I normally send out to my friends here as well, so that even if I remove them on my phone, it will still be treasured here, on my little space on the web.

"Love is not always like a fairytale. There are people who give so much love to those who don’t love them back. There are some who feel so loved and find out in the end that they were fooled. There are some who’s into mutual love but can’t call their partner as their own because someone already holds the title. There are some who gives so much love but the other won’t believe because they always consider your past. There are some who receive so much love but can’t seem to move on from previous relationship. Or others just want to play the game and choose their playmate."

Just wanted to say a quick hello to both my active readers and all of the hot azz lurkers milling about on here today. It has been a hot minute since I took the time to say hello, so 'Hello' *waves* [Website - TheLostGirl’s Blog].

Just wanted to give you guys a very quick update on what is going on with me.

I have had a couple of you ask how my new job is going. I have been there for a few months now and I have to say I like the company and the people insurmountably more than my old company. The role is intensifying, as it tends to do around half-a-year in. The pace of work is increasing, as is the pressure, but I am so thankful to have a job that doesn't make me want to throw myself out of a window at the end of a day, that I can't complain. My bills are paid and I have food in my tummy. I am a happy and really quite content bunny :D

Also, further to my earlier post, I am going to continue with this lil' bloogle.

I love this blog, and the amazing readers and commenters it attracts.

It was quite hard to blog at my usual pace after starting my job. The role and passing my probation took priority over anything else and so my post count went right down. However, I am working things out and striking a balance between work and play, so I can do both.

Crikey, just realised something else. I don't think I have asked how you guys are. You are always so kind as to check in and ask how I am doing. So, I'd like to do the same.

How are you guys doing today? What have you been up to? Do tell!

Written By - TheLostGirl ONLY for TheLostGirl’s Blog website - Accept no imitators.

Please let me know if you are reading this post ANYWHERE other than http://iamthelostgirl.wordpress.com.I, TheLostGirl, have NOT given permission for my post to be reproduced in full elsewhere - excerpts only please, people.

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1. Jennifer
2. Potatoes
3. Fredonia, NY
4. Green
5. Ron Hawkins
6. Margarita (and coffee too, how perfect!)
7. Antarctica to see the penguins
8. Starbucks Cranberry Bliss Bar
9. Have babies
10. The simple things (oh and this picture was called Waiting for Christmas!)
11. Extrovert
12. All Things Jennifer

This is much closer to how I pictured my life being.  Go to work, come home and leave your job (and not have it follow you home), and spend time with your family.  Then, every so often, go on an adventure, even if it's a relaxing one... get away from the daily to-do's and go enjoy some other part of the world, even if it's not really that much farther from your home.  Ideally, like everyone else, I suppose, I'd rather work less and make more.  But, I always assumed that came with time... as you build up nest eggs and pay off debts, eventually, even if you're not making more, you have more of your money available to you.

It's at this point that I'd like to believe I'd (we'd) be more giving than the average American.  And, I suppose, one could rightly argue that we could and should be giving with the resources we've already been blessed with.  I make no excuse.  I can only say that I'm concerned, as most are, about paying the bills every month.  And, I believe that part of being a good steward is to pay off one's debts.  So, I'll qualify this a little: If we could eliminate our debt and only have mortgage and car payments and monthly living expenses, I'd hope that we'd give more to people in need before spending it on ourselves.

I'd like to believe that we would.  But, I know that it's a gradual process.  And, being gradual, it might be difficult to not gradually spend a little more and a little more and a little more as you get close to paying off the debt.  Thus, you've always got the excuse that, "if I could just pay off my debt."

So, let me end this with a little plug for something a friend of mine introduced me to, just in case you're at that point of wanting to give a little more, or, at least, closing in on it.  It's http://www.kiva.org/.  The concept is pretty simple.  Lots of people give micro-loans for entrepeneurs in third-world countries to start up businesses allowing them to get themselves out of poverty.  The entrepeneurs pay back their lenders (no interest).  The lenders can withdraw their money, re-"invest" in another business or donate to Kiva, which is how they function.  But, of your loan (minimum of $25) goes to your entrepeneur at 100%.  So, if you're getting close to paying off debt, this is a great way to start giving since the money will actually come back to you.  And, in the end, you not only help an entrepeneur and his family, but you help a country's economy and that will eventually impact the world economy improving things for everyone.