Missionaries - Present and Future

I need to get to bed before it's too late, but I'm leaving my beloved computer for a few days and figured I should put up a post, lest I find rabid, spleen extricating, Cap'n-deprived followers awaiting my return on Sunday.
Where am I going, you might ask? To Arches National Park, would be my answer. What will I be doing there? Scraping my knees up on rocks, probably falling off quite a few of said rocks, hiking, eating tin foil dinners, freezing to death... Yanno. Experiencing the wonders of the great outdoors. ^______^ I really do enjoy it all - except the part where I freeze to death, of course.

I'm just going to jump around with the big things that I can remember from the past week.

Saturday, I got a call from my momma during DnD. She said that she and the youngsters were attending a session of The Best of EFY down at SVU. Aaah... EFY. It makes me squee on the inside and out. ^__________^ I'm thoroughly convinced that working for that program is the single best job on the face of this planet. Light, I hope I can do it again someday.
Of course Chynna was glad to be there because of the opportunity to socialize with her boyfriends (one on each arm and all that) - I hope she got a little more out of it than flirting.
And Casey - oh, that boy. He grumbled and complained and drug his feet the whole way, but once he got there, he had a wonderful time and told Mom he was glad he came. ^__________^ My hope lives on! Out of the 7 boys that our family has raised, Casey is the only one that I can honestly hope for where the prospect of a mission's concerned. The church has never been more than a chore to any of them. Something your parents make you do. Casey doesn't really have a solid testimony or anything at this point, but with the right prodding, he'd be so much more willing to make it a priority than any of the others, I think.
Casey's a lot like me. More than anyone else in the family. I've seen his notebooks filled with snippets of stories, sketches of characters with extraordinary powers, and song lyrics. I've watched him fight imaginary battles in the backyard with the cheap decorative swords he inherited when I left for school. I wonder if he knows just how similar we are.
I worry about him a lot. Even if he did excel at art, sports, hunting, music, acting, school, popularity, creative thinking, or whatever, so what? Like Ron Weasley, he's at the end of the line in a huge family, and there's no real motivation for him to do well at anything because it's all been done already by his older siblings and cousins. We've got so many different talents that there's really nothing left he's found that could be uniquely his.
Although there are many other great reasons I hope he'll serve a mission, one of the biggest to me is that this is something he can do that will really allow him to shine - something he can be proud of and feel real accomplishment for. He has the potential to do something that none of the older boys ever will and that they'll regret not doing years later. I'm just holding onto my hope that someday he'll be the example that they all should have been to him.

...And I really wandered off there. Back to Mom's phone call - she called to give me what could be the best news I've heard in... well... I'm not sure when I last heard news this good. Flashback!
At my first youth conference, I became friends with two awesome boys - Will and Sam. Will especially became a very close friend. I'll admit, I crushed on him for quite a while too. He had an amazing smile and cute curls and watched anime, okay? They graduated two years before I did, and seeing them go really upset me. We tried keeping in touch, but after about a year and a half, the calls stopped and they effectively fell off the face of the earth. Why were they still home so long after graduating, you may ask? At least in Will's case, he was the only real active member in his family and had to raise the money for a mission himself. Honestly, after about a year, I'd more or less given up hope that he'd ever go. I haven't heard from him or Sam in over three years and never expected I would again.
So this past Saturday at the EFY activity, my mom happened across a boy that looked an awful lot like Sam. Happened to be a younger brother. She asked a few questions and it turns out, Sam has 4 months left of his mission here in Utah while Will has 6 months left on his in Japan. I was so happy, I came dangerously close to crying right there in the middle of our DnD game - where I happened to be when Mom called to tell me this.
I ended up doodling a sketch of a missionary with a smile and a mop of curls in church the next day. One of the guys who saw it commented on the fact that he didn't have a proper missionary haircut. Yes, I know that Will's hair is probably a lot shorter now, but I can only picture him as I knew him. ^____^() Ah, well.

Concerning other friends from years long past (though she's still around), EJ and I FINALLY got Calli to read the Twilight series. Yaysquee! XD Not only is it good to have another fangirl follower converted, Calli and I also made a deal that's very good for me. I put in an equal amount of studytime to her time spent reading that series. So I now owe her twenty-two and a half hours worth of homework. Edward Cullen may be the best motivator I've ever had. Haha.
And while we're on the subject of motivation - I'm finding mine again. In the last two weeks, I've played soccer, ultimate frisbee (twice), hiked, gone swimming, and ran 6 miles (two nights, 3 miles each). It feels so great to be active again! Even though my muscles have made some protests and I spazz whenever a frisbee comes my way, I've loved every bit of it and don't want to stop for anything.

And now for the sad news - it looks like I may not go to Alaska this summer after all. It's not all sad, though. I've discovered that rather than trying to earn enough money to pay back my student loans in July, it would probably be better to enroll in a new school, resume my student status, and forgo the loans until we can really afford to pay them back. So I'm doing some research on UVSC and talking to counselors about how to transfer credit from there back here to BYU. I have a really good feeling about this route. It'll allow me to make some progress with my GE's a lot sooner, rather than just waiting for my suspension to end. Now that I have a real goal and I know what it is I want to do with myself education-wise, I'm anxious to get back into the game and make some good things happen.

And on a closing note: I come from an awesome family. How many people my age have grandparents that could flip a truck three times, total the vehicle, and take no more damage than a few broken ribs? My granddad did last week. That's right. We're built to last. ^____~


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Quote - "The spaces between your fingers were made so someone else's could fill them."
Music - "Rebel, Rebel," David Bowie
Mood - Artistic

Got Milk?

Well, the tallies are in, and the votes stand as thus:

1 I don't think you're a dork. You're totally cool!
1 You attract dorks because that's what you subconsciously desire.
2 They're attracted to you because they see common interests. (With a hint of 'Other guys may be interested, but they're too afraid of damaging their reputations to give you a chance.')
1 If you want anything else, you're going to have to let your hair grow out and wear more makeup. (There would be two votes for this one if my mom read my blog.)
1 You're too soft. You may wish you were tough, but you know you're not and so do we, you pansie.
1 I'll tell you later - when it's safe.
And my sister didn't vote because she thinks I'm too dorky to bother reading my blog. ^.^()

That's about what I expected.

In other news:

Thrynn thinks I need to post entries more often. I think Thrynn faces a painful, stabbity demise in the relatively near future. Call it a hunch. ^__________________^

Saturday was a great day. It was several days ago, but it was still great. My character delivered the killing blow to a colossal sized dragon in DnD - with her bare hands. Muaha. I made cheese cake cupcakes, and they were most scrumptious.
I cleaned my room (though you can't really tell anymore) while Calli and I took a trip down nostalgia lane. My, we were silly kids. Why, yes, Digimon and Gundams and Dragonballs CAN exist on the same planet... Our kids will get tired of watching cartoons before we do. And once upon a time, 19 was sooooooo far away, and we would be married by then. HAAAAAH!
So then I drug the poor sickly creature that was Calli to a karaoke party in the realm of Man-205. Light, that was a blast. Mullet wigs, 80's rock, attempted cha-cha, and cheesecake from the Irish Pub. Yum. Calli and I agreed, though, that the night would have been perfect if they'd had Mika's song Grace Kelly among their karaoke tunes. Alas, it was not. Lord Tarzan and I would've brought down the house with that one.
There was also an Irish Pub party going on and Irish jigging did occur. And I wore a giant orange top hat that covered my whole head. I felt like Baby New Year from that clay-animation movie because the only way to keep the hat up was to fold my ears out and balance it on them. It made a lot of people laugh, which made me happy. ^__^

I learned some things about the human body and the digestive system this week. I learned that humans are the only mammals that don't become lactose intolerant very quickly after being weaned from their mothers' milk. There are varying degrees of lactose intolerance. For instance, one person could be totally incapable of consuming any dairy product without severe reactions while another person could perceive no signs at all of being sensitive to lactose with dairy products such as cheese, yogurt, butter, etc. But with milk, which contains a significantly greater amount of lactose, symptoms may suddenly appear. It's also a condition that increases in severity as you age.
I am also approximately 90% certain that I am developing what is, for now, a mild form of lactose intolerance. I've been doing some self-experimenting and have found in repeated cases that my body reacts badly when I drink milk. It's still mild enough that I don't really notice symptoms with less-lactose-concentrated dairy products, but a few glasses of milk is enough to make my stomach very unhappy with me. I don't mind giving up milk itself so much. Never have liked the stuff and hardly ever drink it anyway - unless it's chocolaty. But it will make my heart and soul inconsolably sad if this is something that progresses as I get older until I must also say goodbye to wonders like cheese and the most sacred of substances - ice cream. Maybe I should start binging on dairy while I still can...

Today was such a beautiful day! About 60 degrees and sunny with a little bit of wind. Just perfect. I decided it was prime Y-hiking weather. So I put on my boots and toted my trusty walking stick Miro up the hill to the mountain. (Not only is Miro good at helping my klutzy feet stay under the rest of me when I'm conquering mountains, he's also very good at telling creepy guys that stare at me as I'm walking alone to keep their distance. He's a good boy. ^___^) Miro and I had just reached the second switchback when I got a call from Korrie, who needed someone to drive her to class. So we turned around and trotted ourselves back down off the mountain so we could be useful. (It's kinda funny that Korrie and I hang out more, and I get to actually be helpful to her now that I'm no longer her visiting teacher. Heheh...) She seemed hesitant to interrupt my little adventure, but I assured her it would be fine as long as she promised to accompany me on a later excursion up to the Y. The funny thing is - I didn't realize at the time that that excursion would have to be MUCH later since Korrie's still hobbling around on crutches due to an unfortunate episode with gravity and the 'sport court.' Mrr.

Aaaaaaaaand.... I was born in the year of the dragon. RAWR.


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Quote - "I could never be a vegetarian. I like broccoli too much." Annika
Music - "Hand-Me-Down," Matchbox 20
Mood - ~I'm a helper!~

Am I A Dork?

I want honest answers to that question. From all who read this. Really.

I ask because of a pattern I've noticed throughout my life. It seems like most girls fairly consistently attract a certain type of boy over and over again. Regardless of whether or not that's what they want, that's what they get noticed by. For some girls it's 'bad boys,' for others 'nice guys,' flirts, brainiacs, athletes, whatever. For me... It's dorks. Shy guys. Geeks. Nerds. Awkward boys - I really can't see them as men regardless of their age because they're just not.

This recurring theme in the guys I've noticed who give me unwanted attention really makes me wonder - WHY?!

Is it because they see me as a female version of themselves? Do they place me on a level that makes me seem more attainable to them while other girls are generally out of reach? I make no secret of the fact that I have some nerdy interests. Yes, I read fantasy and science fiction. Yes, I watch anime. Yes, I love superheroes and I play Duneons and Dragons and I love old music. Heck - I've even worn a sweater-vest or two (when the occasion was appropriate). But do I really typify the qualities that make up the generic geek?
I have a lot of other perfectly normal interests - like art, cooking, dancing, theatre, the great outdoors, sports, even a few boy bands from years not so long past. >.<()
Do guys outside the spheres of nerd-dom see me as a geek while the ones within it see me as their best chance?

Or could it perhaps be that they sense that I'm too soft (or cowardly) to openly reject them? I've put on the tough girl facade a time or two when dealing with guys, but in general, I just hate hurting those that I perceive as being weak. And these boys definitely fit that bill. I can empathize with people who are ostracized by their peers because I was one of them. (I was a very weird kid, though I do think I've outgrown it enough to do all right for myself socially. I'm comfortable with myself.) Do I set myself up as a magnet for these socially unfortunate souls by being too kind?
Would it be better for me to stop trying to gently dodge their advances and be a little more catty? >.< I hope not. I hate seeing girls treat people that way.

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Quote - "Those who say something is impossible are generally interrupted by someone doing it." ~Unknown
Music - "Kyrie," Mr. Mister
Mood - Pensive

We'll Improvise This One

So... I don't know what I'm going to write about tonight. Let's just see what pops out, eh?

To start, Nam-Allirog has been forgiven because he has magical hands. ^____^ Macloude managed to hurt her neck playing courtly games and he was good enough to help work away a little of the pain with icy-hot magic potion. Macloude's neck will probably snap, crackle, and pop all day tomorrow, though.

It's kinda sad, actually - apparently my pain tolerance is such that I can't even really stand to have all the kinks massaged out of my neck. o_O Sad, indeed...

Weather! And sports! I've been planning an excursion for willing Campus Plaza residents to mosey over to the park for a good ol' bout of soccer for the last few days.
I was really worried that today's weather forecast would spell DOOM for the game, and the gray cover hanging in the sky this morning really didn't do much to allay those concerns.
However, just as I got off work and headed home, they skies suddenly cleared, the sun shone, and it became a kind of weather most excellent for parkly excursions. Somebody up there loves me! ^__________^
Unfortunately I could use love from a few more somebodies down here... I had so many people back out on me once it was actually time to go play. I really was giving up and going home when Keith and Manly Man made an appearance in their hot canary yellow sporting attire. Those guys are real studs. If I had a y chromosome, I would feel so manspired by them.
So in the end, we had about 9 people from the Plaza and three other random guys I didn't know come play. It turned out pretty well. I got my annual bout of exercise, made some new friends, and somehow gave myself whiplash - or something that feels very much like it. I love soccer. I miss playing so much. And I especially miss feeling like I've been working at it enough to feel competent as I play.

I don't often have nightmares. Aside from the recurring ones in which all my teeth fall out. But I do remember one from the other night. A really... bizarre one.
My dad, my grandma, and I were driving to dad's house - through the woods, of course. The house is in the boonies and all. And somehow my MawMaw fell out of the vehicle - without us noticing. So then we got home and discovered that she wasn't there, but we figured out what must've happened because it... made sense... ? O.o (It started kinda dream-funky weird, but gradually it just got creepier.)
Dad was, of course, upset that his mom was lost and we had no idea if she was okay. So we had to go back and look for her. So all of my family on mom's side (cousins and such)- who were at Dad's house for whatever reason - started looking for MawMaw in the woods around the house. Mom and I worked our way along the trees near the road very methodically. But at some point, it became apparent to us that she had died out there. So we weren't looking for my lost grandma anymore - we were looking for her corpse.
I could tell we were getting closer for some reason (dream logic, yanno), but then a really really big fox appeared. I think it spoke because it was standing nose to nose with me, but I don't remember what it would have said. But I do remember it attacking us. We fought it off, though. And that's about when we started hearing wolves howl. They were hunting us.
I don't remember exactly how it all happened, but Mom and I -did- find my MawMaw's corpse... Just as the wolves started closing in. And then it all gets fuzzy. I think I woke up.
Why did I write about that? I dunno. It's just odd for me to have nightmares, and even if I do, I very rarely remember them. This one really stuck out, though. Maybe it's just because it was incredibly vivid - and more than a bit macabre.

DI bins! I love DI bins so stinking much. I've found some incredibly cool jackets in them, a suitcase, not to mention other miscellaneous clothes. My favorite finds of the last few weeks have been the long maroon jacket I wore as part of my Corporate Style Barbie get-up on Sunday, a lava lamp (who has officially been named Xavier), the Tinkerbell t-shirt I found for one sister, and the Woodstock plushie (think Peanuts) I salvaged for the other. As long as I have DI bins, I never need to spend another dime on gifts again! It's a beautiful system.

In other news - I'm never going to be able to settle on a major. I made up my mind to apply for illustration a while back, but now I've started weighing other possibilities again. Really only one other for now.
I shudder to say it where people can actually hear - and I doubt most of you who read this will believe it anyway - but beneath the ice and the whithered, frost-bitten texture of my black heart, there are actually a few microscopic fragments of compassion that haven't yet been obliterated. And those little nuisances are nagging me to do something that will make a difference people who desperately need others who are willing to help them. Specifically, there's a part of me that wants to work to improve the lives of children who need decent families. Child protection services, if you will.
As much as I want to help improve these kids' lives, though, there's another side. Perhaps a bit more selfish. And it looks at the long hours and heavy caseloads that social workers are weighed down with. And it says that I already ruled out the performing arts as a major because I didn't want a job that would distract me from my role as a mother. And I guess I'm kind of afraid of neglecting my own family in my attempts to improve someone else's.
Work in things like illustration and writing appeal to me so much not only because they allow me to let out my own creative nature and use talents I've developed, but because they're primarily freelance work that I can do within my own home. I just don't know.

I picked Polaris out of the sky tonight. It's the first time I've really looked at the stars since summer. It's so sad that you have to sacrifice proximity to people and convenience to be able to really see the stars - like at home. I love picking out constellations, and I know so many (in the summer, anyway). It's a shame that that knowledge gets rusty whenever I come here with all these lights. That's why I only really know summer constellations. I can see the stars in the summer. But in the winter, while I'm here, they hide.

I miss a lot of things about summer. Late night walks without a jacket, fireflies, star gazing, hiking, camping, trips to the coast, swimming in the river, greenery everywhere, humidity, baby animals, downpours you can run around in drenched without freezing while lightning crashes right over your head, fireworks, collecting chicken eggs at Uncle Jesse's, sunburn, Casey's face getting more freckly by the day, our next door neighbor trimming his lawn with a razor and a fine-toothed comb... I love summer.

~~~~~~~~~

Quote- "We're men. We hunt, we watch sporting events, we apologize." ~Rogers (The Swan Princess II)
Music- "Dark Chest of Wonders," Nightwish
Mood- contemplating the various degrees of 'ICK'

Once Upon An Insult...

Story time!

~~~~~

Once upon a time there was a lovely young maiden. We'll call her Macloude (with an 'e'). Because none of us know anyone who was recently re-named that... At all... Macleoude was sometimes a reclusive creature. Dainty and sensitive to the stresses of the constant socialization of the court. She was prone to long evenings spent at home on her own with her computer or a good book for company.

However, the fine beauty did have a fair number of friends who were good and dear. One such friend was a hairy-armed lad whom we'll henceforth refer to as Nam-Allirog (read it backwards). Nam-Allirog was an out-going, well-wishing sort, always seeking to do some good for his fellow primates. And so, on this occasion he happened upon sweet Macloude alone at her place of residence - the Castle Sassy-203 in the realm of the Plaza of Campus. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he most regretfully declared that he must depart. However, a nagging suspicion had been born within his mind, and so he proceeded to inquire that his suspicion might be laid to rest.

"Have you left this [castle] once since returning from work?" said he.

"Bugger off," she replied, confirming his suspicions.

At once he determined that it would be most callous of him to leave her in such a lonely state and insisted upon her immediate quitting of her sanctuary. He proceeded to drag her by her delicate metaphorical ear to the near-by manor of Man-206. Therewithin dwelt the honorable lord Tarzan and the Knight some call... Tim, most skilled paint ball wielder in all the land. Nam-Allirog announced his intent of leaving the fair maiden under the care of these noble men - cautioning them from allowing her to leave unaccompanied, lest she be preyed upon by roving bandits (or return to the solitude of her computer).

It was then that Lord Tarzan posed a question born of humble curiosity (for his was both mighty and mild): "But, sir, why dost thou leavest this comely, gentle flower in our charge?"

To which, Nam-Allirog so gracefully explained, "Well, it's kind of like when you're at a party and you're talking to someone. But you JUST CAN'T STAND THEM! It would be rude to just leave, so instead you find someone else to dump them on, get them talking, and THEN slip away..."

Macloude vowed from that moment forward to never allow her dearest of friends Nam-Allirog to forget a lesson he should have already known: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

~~~~~

....And some people wonder why men get labeled as tactless idiots. I'd really hate to retract everything I had that was fair and good to say about men in my last post, and everything I would like to say in future posts. But right now.... Oh, how sorely I'm tempted. >.<

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Quote- "I need a guy opinionated enough to fight back, but considerate enough to let me win." ~Macloude (with an 'e')
Music- "My December," Josh Groban
Mood- hopeful about soccer

Girls Are From Narnia, Boys are from Middle Earth (or something along those lines... @_@)

I have a lot of time during work to just turn ideas over in my head and examine them from new angles. Tedious manual labor's good for that.

One of the many such subjects for my attention in the past days has been examining the changes that have occurred gradually in my own way of addressing the world. I'm finding that I've become a much more tame creature. Don't get me wrong - I don't think I'll ever find a word that better defines me than "spastic." Unless it's "spaz-tastic." But even so, I'm hardly the wild heathen-child that looks so much like a younger, blonder version of myself.

Where did that little tomboy who would deliberately play with spiders just to prove she wasn't afraid of them - while she was secretly terrified - go? She was afraid of a lot of things, like heights and bugs and pain, but she was good at muscling through that, so her friends thought she was braver. She hated the idea of anyone seeing her cry over anything. She was so stubborn and temperamental to a fault. And competitive - ho, boy was she competitive. She'd kick any boy who annoyed her in the shins and was so determined to prove that girls were better than boys in every way. It wouldn't be hard at all to imagine her growing up into one of those hardcore 'how-dare-you-open-that-door-for-me-you-chauvinistic-swine' type feminists. Heck, she even wanted to be the first female president (until she decided that too many people wanted to shoot presidents, that is).

In her place, I've found someone who skirts around the edges of gatherings in crowded rooms because she doesn't want to get in the way. Sometimes she'd prefer to participate more, but she got tired of making herself a spectacle a long time ago, so she lets the opportunity slide by.
She finally fessed up and gave into the urge to squeal and retreat from creepy things with too many legs. She's still interested in a lot of exciting things, but she's no longer bold enough to brush aside the nerves for the sake of the adventure. ...Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if she started toughening up again. I miss those adventures. ...I mean, she misses them.

They're not all bad changes, though. She's a lot easier to get along with now that she doesn't kick people in the shins. And she's learned that men and women aren't competing for superiority. That's a big one. She no longer wants to think of women as smarter, more competent, or any of that. She's learned to love men. Height, strength, hairy arms, crooked smiles, emotion tempered by logic. She loves it all. And appreciates the differences. She realizes that they compliment her own gender's traits quite nicely. And they make for a well-balanced team rather than opponents.
She also appreciates the ways that men acknowledge their differences. The door-opening. The compliments. Carrying heavy things, and all the rest. She shies away from them a little bit because they're just a little bit foreign to her. She doesn't expect them to come, but she's pleasantly surprised, and definitely appreciative when they do - whether she's good at expressing her gratitude or not. That's just because she's not quite used to it yet. Give her time. She's a work in progress.

---

Now veering off in another direction, thought not entirely irrelevant. There's one set of gender traits that I think deserve a little attention apart from the rest. Emotions.

I don't care if it sounds stereotypical or simplistic. And to those women out there who differ from this significantly or who take offense: I do acknowledge that this is a generalization. (Forgive me, Cathryn.) But it's my observation. My experience. And we are all limited by our own experiences and perceptions, I'm afraid. Having made my pseudo-disclaimer, then: Women. Are. Emotional. (That was profound, yes?) I'm one of them. I should know. I may have been a confused little tomboy for many a year, but boyish facades don't really change the software. And it's one heck of a roller coaster ride just trying to keep up with your own moods, let alone controlling the ride.

This is where the other half steps in. I used the phrase 'emotion tempered by logic' before to describe the male half's more appealing traits, and with good reason. Not all men -do- control their emotions well. A great many of them do not. The real shame is that so many women interpret fits of anger or possession as shows of power or strength. This is a disastrous move because such tantrums are anything but. It's probably the best sign you could get that this is a man lacking in self control - real strength. It's not that it's better for a man to be cold or insensitive, but a man's ability to win over feeling with thought is such a necessity for a healthy relationship.

NO RELATIONSHIP NEEDS TWO WOMEN. I can't say it any better than that.

I've dated emotional basket cases. Guys with temper flares and insecurity issues and depression. I've tried being the comforter and supporter. Overly emotional, needy guys drive women to depression. Trying to control someone else's roller coaster while your own is doing its best to buck you out of the car tends to end in bloody crashes. Then you die. And cry. Because, as we've already established, there's all this excess of emotion just waiting to flood over.

This sounds a little bit like a scapegoat for women to pass off their emotional hang-ups as a man's responsibility. But that's really not it at all. Women are just as accountable for their emotions and actions as men. Still, the sexes are meant to be different. When both sides of the equation are healthy on their own, and are comfortable with their own strengths and shortcomings, the marriage of reason and feeling do tend toward equilibrium.
May more men out there rise to the call to be the best, manliest men, so that women don't have to. We're all a lot better off when we're our best selves, rather than splitting our time between meeting our own needs and compensating for someone else's.

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Quote- "When I die, I want to go peacefully, like my grandfather did, in his sleep. Not screaming like the passengers in his car."
Music- "Crash and Burn," Savage Garden
Mood- dead tired

Speak You The Portuguese?

...Kay, so I totally would've been in bed ages ago if the beautiful, awe-inspiring, LONG entry I'd just attempted to post hadn't VANISHED WITHOUT A BLOODY TRACE. ...Life sucks then you die. This is the attempted recreation (Bear in mind that just like in the movies and music, remakes are never quite on par with the original work. Unless Phil Collins is doing the remake. I am not Phil Collins.)

It's a wisely accepted fact of this world that you can hardly be prepared for all the challenges and surprises you face in life. The best you can do is be ready to accept and roll with that for which you are not prepared. And I do try to be adaptable. However, there ARE a few things that even the most stout of heart and cool of head cannot simply brush away because the possibility of it happening just... wasn't... existent... but then it did.
For instance, I never anticipated that the day would come when I could see Severus Snape dancing. It isn't that I didn't believe I could never come across the bat-like potions master in person, it's simply that I could never have envisioned him dancing. However, I must now tell you that that is EXACTLY what happened. Granted, he was a bit younger than his Hogwarty-yeared self. More like Severus the grad student than Snape the professor. But it was him! He had the long, jet black hair slicked back, and the nose, and a long dark coat, and... it was so... Snape, Snape, Severus Snape - DUMBLEDORE! He was wearing headphones attached to an ipod as he stalked the corridors - I mean campus - cloak billowing... Then all the sudden, he stopped, STRIKING A POSE. And then he DANCED as he continued stalking. Though I suppose it wasn't really stalking anymore... And even weirder yet - he had skillz. I will never imagine Hogwarts's Yule Ball quite the same way again. Or Snape's weekend trips to Hogsmead, for that matter...

In other news: I got to feel very domesticated today. ...Somehow that really doesn't sound like it's meant... Due to a gross disequilibrium in the distribution of Nice Notes of late, I offered to provide Manly Man with applesauce. I've come to really enjoy making applesauce since gaining access to a roommate's electric skillet. Mayhap I shall invest in one someday... When I'm rich. So anyway, I went about the making of the applesauce - even donning a cute lil apron. I received a great many comments from my roommates about my blossoming maternal assets. ...Again, that doesn't quite sound like it's intended. o.o()

So then Manly Man came over and kidnapped me for an hour of cultural awareness - which didn't really turn out to be all that culturally aware. It was a celebration of things Brazilian. Mostly it just seemed like a reunion for RMs with Brazilian flags in their apartments. There were sandwiches - not so Brazilian. But the soda was authentic. And it was good too. May have to ask Manly Man what it's called. And there was salsa dancing by the ballroom dance team.
And the best part of all: I randomly ran into VEEBA!!! (That's Eva Brady for those of you that haven't met her kids. Yes, she has kids...) She studies the Portuguese, which they speak in the Brazil. I speak the English. Which isn't spoken so well in the America. And even worse in the England. And then we happened across Mary Brooke from girls' camps long past.
What the foot's wrong with me, eh? I used to bemoan the fact that I had to drive for hours to see my friends and would hurl myself over any obstacle to make it happen. And now we live minutes away. We go to the SAME FRIKKIN' SCHOOL, and we never even talk anymore! Grar...

Moving on!

After being made more culturally aware, I skiddled over to the Marriott Center for my first and the last basketball game of the season.
Side note: whoever designed the crosswalk systems such that there is no convenient way to cross the street between the Hinckley Building and the Marriott Center deserves a good smart kick to the shins. Or better yet - a number of good smart kicks from an entire soccer team. Yeah. That sounds good.
So I'm glad I went to the game. It was a good one. However, I could feel the fact that I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two weeks. Jessica was very good about letting me use her boyfriend as pillow. I'm grateful. Boys really do make the best pillows.

And on the walk home, I got to clarify the misconception orbiting my love (or apparent lack thereof) for sports. I've always been a very sporty girl. I love sports. Especially playing. Don't like watching quite so much, but I love participating. Always have. It really makes me sad to realize that it's been two years since I've been involved with any kind of team. Granted, chronic illness did kind of get in the way during high school, but in the two years I've spent in Utah, I've hardly even had a case of the sniffles. Yet I've never really recovered my former energy and stamina that made me such a die-hard player. And I don't have an excuse anymore. I have a pair of new ruby-red soccer cleats that have never had a chance to be broken in, and I'm not really in good enough shape to consider playing real sports at all. Maybe I should look into joining ward intramurals anyway...

So now I'm going to wrap up this reattempted post with a couple of thoughts that deserve to be stated, but that didn't really have a place to fit into the rest of the post:
Hiccups make singing along with your headphones somewhat difficult - and significantly sillier.
I truly believe that no one should be allowed to call themselves an American if they were not involved with some kind of baseball league as a child.
You know Journey. Even if you don't know that you know Journey.
I prefer that my Meatloaf sing "Bat Outta Hell" and "Paradise By the Dashboard Lights" rather than sit on my dinner plate.

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Quote- "The best thing you can ever do is the right thing. The worst is nothing." -Roosevelt (don't remember which, though)
Music- "The Mysterious Ticking Noise," Potter Puppet Pals
Mood- sleepysleepysleepy

Quagmire

For the last 7 years or so, I have dutifully visited various blog sites, such as this one and livejournal on a near-daily basis so that I can check up on the lives (or lack thereof) of friends. I did attempt to keep up with my own livejournal throughout high school, but the updates were sporadic and tended to occur only seasonally at best.
However, the recent influences of a few friends have inspired me anew to try my hand at this blogging endeavor once again with a rejuvenated sense of optimism. ....We'll see how long this lasts, eh? ^.~

Maybe if I had a specific purpose in mind, it would prove conducive to regular updating. But what should that purpose be? I can't honestly believe that anyone wants to read about my 11-3 custodial shift every day. As invigorating as it may (not) be... So mayhap it should be reserved for more exciting whenever-something-awesome-happens-I-feel-like-reporting type adventures. But that will undoubtedly lead this poor, naive little blog into an obscure abyss from which it may never emerge.
So what then? An archive for the deep, profound insights birthed from the quagmire of my often misunderstood and under appreciated genius, shedding a previously inconceivable source of light and inspiration upon the less-complex and pitifully inferior minds of the mere mortals who stumble - whether by happenstance or fate - upon it?
Yeah... That sounds about right.

I guess we'll just play it by ear. Which should be interesting since it's a well-known fact to my more musically-educated acquaintances that I can't stay in just one key for more than about 20 seconds.

Anyway - this insomniac hasn't been to bed before 3 am in over a week now. Let's break that pattern starting riiiiiiiiiight...........

NOW!

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Quote- "Why waste time learning when ignorance is instantaneous?" -Calvin and Hobbes
Music- "Grace Kelly," Mika
Mood- cynic, posing as a realist, who is secretly an optimist