6 for 14- #8 Do Something on my Bucket List

I thought this would be a difficult one, since most of my bucket list is filled with things like "see ice skating at the Olympics" or "ski in the Alps" or other such foreign adventures.  Fortunately, a handful of things on that list can still be done in this country and I have managed to do one of them, definitely didn't expect to at the beginning of this year.

So, just a few weekends ago (I'm getting a little better at posting quickly), I went out with my boyfriend and his sister and her husband and shot a gun!  It was super exciting, and I can't think of too many better things to do the night before one goes to take the Physics GRE.  I mean, really, at that point, further studying is only going to stress me out more.  So, when offered the opportunity to instead take out my anxiety on the little orange targets with a 22 rifle, I figured, why not!  I even managed to hit the little orange target on my third try.

I also had the chance to shoot a 9 mm hand gun...I prefer the 22.  I don't feel like it's trying to jump out of my hands each time I pull the trigger.  And by the time I was shooting the hand gun I had shot down all the targets so I had nothing specific at which to shoot, so I felt more like I was just wasting bullets.

And don't worry, I still did just fine on the GRE...I think, I haven't actually received my score yet.

5 for 14- #5 Find a four-leaf clover

Okay, so I actually found a four-leaf clover sometime in July, I've just been really forgetful lately (and by lately I mean since July) and am just now getting around to writing about it.

Part of me, however, is grateful that I have put this off for so long.  I now have experiences I can tell about this four-leaf clover of mine.  I can now declare that four-leaf clovers really are as lucky as people claim they are.  Since finding this simple little clover, I have won tickets to see a live taping of Studio C, to attend the Homecoming Spectacular (a fine arts performance done every year at my school for homecoming), and for the 2014 Mormon Tabernacle Christmas concert coming up in December.

So, to all my college friends out there who are much like me, completely penniless, if you are looking for fun, free dates- go out and find yourself a four-leaf clover and then enter all the "free ticket giveaways" you can find.

My Life is Routine

School started...like a month ago...can you tell? Life has been busy.

I am a terrible journal keeper.  I remember to write in it about once a month.  My initial purpose behind my blog was to motivate me to write something, however random or spur of the moment, so that key events in my life are at least recorded somewhere since they never make it to my journal.  We can see I don't do much better with my blog.  I am finally starting to understand why.

My life is routine.  Especially during the school year.  I go to school and I go to work, not always in that order.  I do homework while sitting at the same table as my boyfriend so that we both feel like we are spending quality time together.  This time is either not particularly "quality time" or not particularly productive in regards to homework.  And I sleep.  Every now and then I even remember to eat.  Day after day, my life follows this same basic pattern.  If I ever find time to break routine and do something totally crazy, it lasts for ten to fifteen minutes and then I get back to what I ought to be doing and slowly forget it.

I sat down once a week or two ago with the intent of discovering something exciting I had done that week.  I went through each day...Monday- school and work. Tuesday- more of the same.  Day after day I could recall nothing terribly interesting or out of routine.  Ready to give up and proclaim my week dull and boring, my boyfriend reminded me of the particularly delicious veggie lasagna I had made for dinner.  There it was- the highlight, the pinnacle moment of my week...a veggie lasagna.  On that note, I declared my week dull, boring, and delicious.

Fortunately, not every week is this monotonous.  Last weekend was General Conference, a bi-annual meeting of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in which modern prophets and apostles speak.  That was wonderful.  Just yesterday I won tickets to the "Homecoming Spectacular," a combined performance of the school's performing groups and a few guest performers.  And, on the thrill of my successful veggie lasagna experiment, I made a scrumptious squash bisque.

4 for 14- #1 Drive Somewhere New

My boyfriend and I were in an exploratory mood, so we drove out to Midway and wandered around to see what there is to see.  By the time I got home I was a bit to tired to shamelessly take pictures like a tourist, but that part was optional anyways.  I did, however, take pictures of Midway while I was out there.

A little cafe we stopped at for lunch. Incredible Pizza!

We wandered about the antique shops 

and found this cool door.

A memorial to all the veterans in the county.

PS- this is my 200th post! I feel so accomplished

Writer's Aversion

While taking a creative writing class during winter semester, I read Anne Lamott's opinion on writer's block in her book, Bird by Bird.  Her theory was that writer's don't really get blocked.  She felt the term "blocked" sounded like constipation, like you are filled up with something that you can't get out.  She believed instead that writers get emptied out, worn out from pouring themselves constantly into the things that they write.  We get what I shall call writer's void, an emptiness inside ourselves from which there is nothing to give.  Her solution was to step away from that which you pour yourself into and recharge.  Go on a walk, take a vacation, experience life so that you are filled again and have something to give to your work.

I think I had this "writer's void" about a month ago, maybe two.  I have since spent a great deal of time away from my computer, having fun experiences, going on several vacations, and filling myself back up.  Unfortunately, I spent a little too much time away from my writing.  I no longer have writer's void, nor do I have writer's block, I have writer's aversion.  I am so behind on experiences that need to be written about that I don't want to sit down and write.

Unfortunately, I need to write an essay for a scholarship application.  In attempting to do so, I've discovered just how rusty and reluctant I am to write.  So here I am instead, partly using my blog to get the writing juices flowing again and in more part because I'm avoiding getting back to my scholarship essay.

A Boy Who Brought Me Plums

I found myself up well past midnight, two hours since everyone else had gone to bed.   While they had been off dreaming, I had spent the last two hours grading lab reports, dozens of identical reports on obnoxiously blue paper, scattered data and conclusions which simultaneously display the students meager knowledge and, usually, even smaller interest in physics.  Hungry and tired, I started digging around my shelves for something quick and easy to eat before getting ready for bed.  My hand rested upon a plum, the last of three that I had received a week before.  I rinsed it off and bit in.  The plum was perfect, it's flesh was soft and sweet, yet it's skin was still tight enough to hold the fruit together, preventing the juices from running down my arms while I ate it.  Enjoying my late night snack, I reflected back on the day I received the plums...

It was just a week before.  I had been sitting at the kitchen table, working on homework, when there was a knock on the door.  I shouted, "Come In!" and a young man entered, grinning with excitement, one hand held behind his back.

"I have a surprise for you," he said.  The joy I saw in his eyes made me wonder if it was possible to make him any happier.  I held out my hands to receive my gift and was surprised when he revealed a bag of plums.  It was still spring, so I hadn't seen fresh plums for several months.  His grin grew wider, probably in response to the look of shock I'm sure spread across my face. "I saw them at the store, and remembered that they were your favorite, so..." he shrugged and gestured to the plums in my hand.  I got up, grabbed a knife, and we shared the first of my three plums.

A week later, finishing off the last of my gift, I wondered if all his joy and excitement from that night was simply in anticipation of making me happy.  And sitting alone on the kitchen counter eating fruit I felt loved, all because of a boy who brought me plums.

3 for 14- #14 Make a Cake from Scratch

Once again, this is getting posted long after it originally occurred.  Fortunately, I'm only 2 weeks late in my updates instead of 4 weeks late.  2 weeks ago, precisely, I made a cake from scratch.  My friends and I decided to make a spice cake.  For a first attempt at making a spice cake from scratch, it was quite delicious.  We only made one mistake in the process of making our cake... we accidentally doubled the recipe for the frosting.  It's been two weeks and I'm pretty sure we still have frosting in our fridge.

So, why did I pick precisely two weeks ago to make a cake?  I felt like celebrating May 16th, which is the same day I returned to America from the Philippines, two years ago.  And still, two years after ending my mission, two years after coming home, I still see daily the influence my time in the Philippines has had on my life.  For example, I still think in Hiligaynon and I still feel cold inside of buildings that have air conditioning.  But on a more serious note, each day is made fuller, richer, and happier by the knowledge of God's love for me and the testimony of His restored gospel, both of which were strengthened by those months spent in the Philippines helping others find this same knowledge.

2 for 14- #13 Climb a Tree!

Okay, so I probably did this, like, 4 weeks ago, but I've been too busy having crazy adventures with my roommates to get around to writing about it.  So- here it is! I have climbed a tree.  As a little kid, I recall climbing into the sort of tree that practically grows horizontally so you really just walk into it, but I had never truly climbed up into a normal tree; you know, the sort of tree that would require climbing.

So, back to 4 weeks ago, I was sitting at the kitchen table, studying for finals.  I had been studying for several hours and was starting to feel burnt out.  I still had my two hardest finals ahead of me.  My study buddy had finished reviewing the material for a final he anticipated being fairly simple and straight forward.  The idea of continuing to study by myself seemed dismal.  We both put away our study material and headed out to find a tree to climb; it seemed like a great alternative to studying.  We headed out to a nearby park, found a tree, got ourselves up into it, and sat there for another hour or so talking.  It's a wonderful way to waste time when you should be studying. I think I shall do it again.

Poetry Slam

I went to a church activity tonight and discovered it was a poetry slam.   Everyone was given a random topic and in a strange coincidence, I received "space" as my topic.  We had three minutes to write a poem.  This is what I came up with, not bad for three minutes.

Some see a void,

an endless emptiness.

Behold only the dark,

the cold, 

the unknown.

I see a space full,

countless wonders,

burning fires,

each known and named

by He who made them.

As unforgettable as we are. 

Friday Nights

A text conversation finalizing plans for Friday night. This actually isn't that rare of an occurrence. (note: code names have been changed to protect the secret identity of involved individuals). I love my friends.

R: Lion acquired!
O: Roger that, Operation Lion is a go. I repeat: Operation Lion is go.
R: I copy that Roger. Commencing Operation Lion!
O: What other tasks need to be completed for Operation Lion to continue?
R: I am not sure about other tasks but I think code names are a must for things to move forward in a meaningful way.
O: Well, a meal should be acquired. B (let us call her Cinderella) has already accomplished this task. She's on top of things. You shall be called Rogue.
R: Alright, way to go Cinderella! What is your code name?
O: Come on Rogue, I can't do all the work here!
R: Okay, we will call you Omega.
O: That will be adequate!
R: You could be Mahogany if you like it better.
O: Either will do, which ever will be easier for you to recall when in a high-stress situation.  I still have not found a solution for the first task.
R: The first task?
O: Acquisition of food... I suppose it is more accurately the second task since the first was the lion. Cinderella and I estimate that Operation Lion can officially start around 9.
R: Sounds good.

At 9:
R: Rogue to Omega. Requesting status of Operation Lion.
O: Cinderella has not yet returned. Operation Lion temporarily postponed.
R: Copy.

A few minutes later:
O: Cinderella has returned. Operation Lion ready to commence. Awaiting your arrival, Rogue.  And don't forget to bring the lion.

It should be noted that Rogue arrived promptly to the designated location, which was then securely locked with windows covered to prevent possible witnesses and "the lion" was delivered.

...and then we watched Secondhand Lions.

The Mirror

I recently had an unusual experience, one that I never expected to have.  I believe this experience to be a gift from God, a blessing to help me better understand how He sees me and hopefully change the way I see myself. 

A few nights ago, as I was preparing for bed, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, I glanced up and looked in the mirror.  The face that looked back at me was hardly recognizable.  It's complexion was pale, smooth and even with only a slight trace of childhood freckles and completely void of teenage acne scars.  I found myself staring into blue-grey eyes which were calm and peaceful.  The face was framed by smooth, dark hair, just the right shade to offset its pale skin.  Astounded by the beauty of the face that looked back at me, I just stood there, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand.

I continued to stare until I could again see the scar on my nose.  Faded freckles turned into dirt-like smudges and my cheeks and forehead revealed their patchy red-and-pink-and-white nature.  The dark circles under my eyes slowly returned and the calm, blue-grey color began to betray signs stress and fear.  Closer inspection showed the frizzy nature of my hair, uncontrolled fly-a-ways giving me a look of recent electrocution.  Finally seeing myself the way I was accustomed to, I turned away from the mirror and resumed brushing my teeth.

When I look at myself, I see the imperfections.  I see my flaws and shortcomings.  In that moment, probably no longer than a minute, I was blessed with the chance to see myself without my physical flaws.  I have been pondering on that minute since then, trying to understand why I was given this opportunity.  There was something more to learn from this experience than just seeing a pretty, flawless version of myself.  

When I think about myself in a mental, emotional, or spiritual sense, I see the imperfections.  Much like my physical appearance, I tend to notice the imperfections more than I notice anything else.  Some of these flaws are current problems, but most are just scars, remnants of old problems and pain that is still fading.  Christ has promised us that, through his atonement, we can be healed and our sins are forgotten.  I might still see the scars, but in that moment, staring into the mirror, I was able to see myself without them.  I was granted an opportunity to physically see myself the way that He sees me so that I might better understand how He sees me spiritually.  As promised, He has forgotten my sins and healed my scars, so He no longer sees them.  In His eyes, I am beautiful.

The Ugly Duckling

A few weeks ago, someone shared the story of the ugly duckling in a talk at church.  Some of what was said has been rolling around my head and I thought I'd share.

The story of the Ugly Ducking is fairly familiar.  A nest full of ducklings hatches, and much to the surprise of the mother, one of them is bigger and uglier than all the others.  He is teased and taunted and finally leaves the flock.  After spending the winter alone and cold, he notices swans flying up above and decides to fly with them.  They all land on a lake and the ugly duckling looks down and discovers his own reflection, which reveals to him that he is also a swan.  That's the gist of it at least- read the whole thing if you're unfamiliar with the story.

If I'm remembering correctly, the speaker in church used this to relate to our need to have courage, to realize that we are more than just an ugly duckling.  I think he mentioned several times that we should remember we are swan-lings.  That's what was said.  Here's what I heard...

We all have those difficult moments, sometimes it is caused by our internal conflicts, other times it is caused by what people say.  The point is, we all have those moments where we feel ugly, insignificant, and unimportant.  In those moments, we can step back and remind ourselves that we are not ducks.  Yes, it is true that we start off little and adorable.  We grow up and go through that phase where we are incurably awkward and feel like we are waddling about making stupid noises whenever we hope to be graceful and elegant.  But still, we are not ducks. We were never meant to be ducks.

You are a child of God.  You are filled with divinity, and only struggle to see it because you are still young, like a "swan-ling."  But someday, you shall return to God's presence.  He will embrace you as your father, who has long awaited your return.  In his arms, your feelings of doubt, self-consciousness, and insecurity will disappear.  You will look up and discover your reflection in his eyes.  It will reveal to you that you are glorious, it will reveal that you are incredible, and you will realize that you are seeing yourself as He has always seen you.  You were never meant to be a duck.  

Final Drafts

For those interested, here are the final drafts of the poems I'm turning in today.  Thanks so much to the many people who read it and provided input.  I heard several people attempted to comment and for some reason the comments never showed.  I can't figure out why that is, thank you for your thoughts, regardless of if they showed up or not.  Also, for those who are able to comment, my teacher suggested I change the last stanza of Pain, let me know what you think (even though I can't change it for the final), I can't decide if I like this ending better or the original.

The MRI 

Clear black plastic film

taped to kitchen windows.

Sun light filters through swirling grey matter

and darker, rigid lines of sturdy skull,

illuminating bisections of you.

The sun comes through each picture,

barely brightening the room and

casting shadows, bent and distorted

around the legs of the table and chairs.

In the twisted images

I think I see an elephant.

You find a cow

and name it Betsy.

Our abs ache and we lean

on one another to stay standing.

“Pass me the tape.”

I grab another black and grey image,

to cover the last corner

and we continue to ignore the

bright bleached blotches,

cancerous lumps,

which stare ominously

from the black plastic.

Pain

Winter hits,

again and

again.

After each

sun burst,

which sweeps

the sky

a bright blue

and persuades

me to believe

in summer,

I awake

the next day

to grey.

My heart sinks

with my feet

into black water,

gathered in

small rivers along

slippery streets,

a frigid pulp,

agitated by

passing cars.

The first

November week,

how the

cold air slaps

my cheeks

and bits

my toes

and gnaws

into my ears,

grinding like

childhood ear

infections.

And each

December gust

threatens to

shatter me

like the icicle

that has lost

its battle with

gravity and,

at the

end of its

long fall,

finds only

hardened earth.

I don’t shatter,

I only crack

along my lips

and the once

soft skin

around my

fingernails

till I bleed.

I step again

into January wind;

my fingers

now numb,

my feet

forever frozen

and I slip

on the ice

and fall,

face first,

into the snow…

and feel

nothing.

The cold crawls

into my bones,

leaving me numb

and sense-less

until summer

returns and

offers joy,

but the sun

must first melt

away the ice

that replaced

my soul,

until it

leaks, slowly,

from my

eyes.

1 for 14- #7 Go Snowboarding!

This Thursday, I completed the first of 14 things I plan on doing this year! I should probably work a little harder on getting these done. I doubt I'll finish all of them if I average one every other month.  Regardless- I have done the first and thought you might want to hear about it. It was quite a grand adventure.

Wednesday evening, my roommate and I were walking onto campus when a friend stopped us to let us in on a secret.  There was someone on campus from a nearby ski resort, if you went up to him and told him that you liked skiing, he would give you an all-day lift pass valid for the next day.  My roommate and I looked at each other, I only had one class, she didn't have any.  We had no clue how much it would cost to rent skis and boots, but we figure it would be cheaper with a free lift pass than without.  We hurried off to acquire passes, then rushed to a computer to check rental prices.

We learned renting both skis and boots would only cost $27.  Then we discovered that renting both a snowboard and boots would only cost $35!  At this point, the scheming turned into planning.  We were going snowboarding the next day.  We figured it would be even cheaper if we could borrow a snowboard or boots from someone we knew, so we posted our plans on facebook and continued scheming with great enthusiasm.

To give you an idea of how enthusiastic we were, it took us 3 hours to remember that neither of us have snowpants or gloves.  In fact, neither of us had ever been snowboarding and were completely unaware of anything else we might have needed to do so.  Our solution- post again on facebook that we needed pants and gloves and asking for suggestions of what we might bring.  You know you have a great group of friends when it only takes another half hour to acquire all we needed (except the boards and boots, but it wasn't too much to rent).

We woke up bright and early the next day, eager for our newest adventure.  We got to the ski resort, picked up our snow boards, strapped them to our feet, and then fell down.  We spent the next hour or so learning to stay balanced long enough to stay standing.  And then in another impulsive move, went to the top of the mountain to work our way down.  A large portion of the trip down was spent on our rear ends, yet somehow, at the very end, I managed to stay standing for the last 30 feet or so of the mountain.

We didn't give up though, at least not immediately. After another go down the hill (it should be noted, each of these attempts took nearly an hour), we realized we were thoroughly bruised and would probably injure ourselves in another attempt.  We came home, told everyone about our adventures, spent the next two days too sore to stand up, and then began planning how we are going to go again! Mom, Dad! I might need a snowboard for Christmas!

Poetry, Part 2

So, we have to turn in two poems for our final poetry assignment.  I thought I would share this poem with you as well.  This particular poem means a lot to me, as it has a lot of influence from life right now, especially in regards to my roommate, one of my best friends.  Though the poem has embellished and over-emphasized things.  If you have a moment, I would also appreciate your comments on this, especially if you feel you don't understand what is going on.  The assignment was to capture a scene in a poem, so if you can't see it, I've not done a very good job.

The MRI

Clear black plastic taped to kitchen windows.

Sun light filters through swirling grey matter

and darker, rigid lines of sturdy skull,

illuminating bisections of you.

The sun comes through each picture, casting

shadows, bent and distorted

around the legs of the table and chairs.

In the twisted images

I think I see an elephant.

You find a cow

and name it Betsy.

Our abs ache and we lean

on one another to stay standing.

The laughter lightens the mood a little,

like the sun that barely brightens the room.

“Pass me the tape.”

I grab more black plastic,

cover the last corner

and we continue to ignore the

bright bleached blotches,

cancerous lumps,

which stare ominously

from the black plastic.

Attempts at Poetry

We've recently finished the poetry unit of my creative writing class, which in college terms means the final drafts of my poems will soon be due.  After teacher-feedback, revision, roommate-review, revision, peer-workshop, and a little more revision, I now turn to you.  Beloved friends, family-members, and other readers: I need your help.  I would really appreciate comments on this poem.  Tell me what you thought about it, how it made you feel, what parts you felt were confusing, what sort of questions the poem left you with, anything!  

ps- for those who like to worry about me, no- I am not depressed, life is not horrible, it's just a poem!

Pain

Winter hits,

again and

again.

After each time

the sun bursts

and sweeps

the sky blue

and persuades me

to believe

 in summer,

I awake

the next

day to

grey.

My heart sinks

with my feet

into black water,

gathered in small

rivers along

slippery streets,

frigid pulp

swimming with

dregs left

by passing

cars.

That first

November week,

cold air slapped

my cheeks

and bit

my toes

and gnawed

into my ears,

grinding like

childhood ear

infections.

And each

December gust

threatened to

shatter me

like the icicle

that has lost

its battle

with gravity

and, at the

end of its

long fall finds

only hardened

earth.

But I don’t

shatter, instead

I crack along

my lips and

the once

soft skin around

my fingernails

till I

bleed.

And now

January passes so

I step again

into the wind;

my fingers

now numb,

my feet

forever frozen

and I slip

on the ice

and fall

face first

into the snow

and feel

nothing.

But which

do I prefer?

To let the

cold crawl

into my bones

until I am

numb. Or

for the sun

to return

and melt

away the ice

which has

replaced my

soul until it

leaks, slowly

from my

eyes.

For Those I Love...

Father,
I thank thee for those I love.  I am grateful for the raucous that we make with each grand idea we discover.  And how I appreciate cell phones, internet, and all that was once considered impossible so that I might hear the echos of distant adventures.  Father, I am grateful for those I share clothes with, who help me style my hair, and tell me I look beautiful as I prepare for a date.  And the way we leap in excitement upon seeing each other at the end of the day.  I thank thee that through them I might feel your love for me.

Father, I thank thee for the midnight discussions, curled on the couch and unable to sleep for the tragedies that have befallen.  I thank thee for the opportunities thou hast given me to dry damp cheeks and sit with another till watery eyes become clear again.  I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the trust thou hast in me, that I might be one who helps another.  And for the chance I have to pray for them, to suffer with them, to cry on their behalf. More than anything, I am grateful that I might be the one by which others feel thy love for them.

Incredible

We sit next to each other, on the couch, on the bench outside the apartment, on the table, on the bathroom floor, on the bunk beds.  As we sit, we talk about everything that doesn't matter and for a brief moment ignore anything that hurts.  We laugh about failed attempts at circus tricks, the proper use of the word didactic, or how much we hate physics exams.  You sit and laugh with me.

When we finish laughing, we exchange the profound advice found only in those under the age of 25.  We think we are so wise.  We listen to each other as though we were sages, seeking a panacea in the words that float between us.

As the conversation dies, you begin to cling to the incoherent words I spill in a final attempt to be deep and meaningful.  You comment casually on how great I look today, and brush off my response.  You thank me for the time I have graciously given to bestow my wisdom upon you.  You laugh in disbelief at my expression of gratitude.  We part with a quick hug and you whisper "You're incredible."



Please do me this one favor, believe me when I whisper back.

Acrobats and the Antics of Crazy College Girls

I've said this before, but I really must say again how much I love my roommates.  I feel so blessed with the incredible women I have the chance to live with and learn from each day.  I know that at any point, I can call girls night and we will all curl up on the couches and probably watch Court Jester again.  (We're going to have that movie memorized by the end of the semester).  Point being, I'm so grateful for where I am and who I am with.

That being said, we really probably should be separated for our own safety.  Or at least, we shouldn't be allowed to go to the circus together.  The Cirque Viva Golden Dragon Acrobats came to our school and performed this weekend.  4 of the 6 roommates (myself included) had tickets to see the show.  The night begins with a casual comment that those who wear glasses should make sure to bring them since we were sitting in the balcony.  This turned into a new scheme of purchasing tickets to an opera, as well as finding old fashioned opera glass, long gloves, and fancy gowns in order to attend the opera dressed up as though we were British royalty.  Giddy on our latest plot, we skipped off to the show, someone still forgetting to put in her contacts regardless of the reminder.

We were in for the treat of a life time.  We saw incredible contortionists, juggling acts, jumping rope while on a unicycle, jumping through hoops higher than the acrobats heads, huge hoops that people could stand in and roll around the stage on, the ultimate clown car- which was actually a single person bike which 9 full grown people managed to crowd themselves on, and much more.  We were enthralled.  Now, this may seem innocent enough, but you have to realize how excited my roommates and I get about things.  Before the first act was over, one of us leaned into the others and said softly, "I bet we could figure out how to do that."

The fuse was lit. Our eyes were glued to the stage, still in a state of absolute awe, but with a new found interest to determine exactly how to do each trick.  Intermission was the fastest 15 minutes of my life as we enthusiastically shared our favorite parts and discussed what we would need to do in order to accomplish the same feats.  We giggled mischievously as the lights dimmed again for the second act, showing us new skills that we soon would make our own.  Like I said, we should not be allowed to go to the circus together.

However, we are at least somewhat sensible, after watching one acrobat create a stack of chairs a good 25 feet high and proceeding to do handstands on the top of it all, someone had the sense to whisper, "We're not trying that one."

1 am

It's 12:50.
I am too awake to fall asleep, but my roommates have gone to bed, no one to talk to.
I search for something more interesting than lying awake in bed.
And so I blog about my thoughts, the unusual conglomeration that occurs near midnight.

It's 12:54.
I finally found the pencil I lost 3 hours ago. It is being used to hold my hair in a bun.
It took me till now to realize that I forgot to eat dinner, I think this is the second time this week.
My blog has exactly 4400 page views, cool, no?

It's 12:58.
Isn't it strange, how I still say "no?" instead of "right?"
and "take care" instead of "good bye"
remnants of a language I spoke daily for over 2 years.

It's 1 am.
We are learning about poetry in my creative writing class.
Images and words float through my head like clouds, changing as they move.
And here I was, thinking I thought too much before. I think I think a great deal more now.
Another poem takes form in my mind.

It's 1:03.
And I find time in the silence to reflect on the past week.
It has been an incredible week. Nothing bad has happened! Nothing at all.
I was able to wear my favorite shirt yesterday and all my homework is done...almost.
I have 120% in one of my classes, if that isn't a confidence booster, I don't know what is.

It's 1:05.
With nothing else to do, I pause and remember,
Life doesn't have to be perfect to be wonderful.
Because I can still find peace, somewhere near midnight.

Washing a Cat

I decided to take a creative writing class this semester to hone my writing skills.  For class each week, we are to select quotes from the two books we are reading and respond to them.  My teacher thought this particular thought was a great metaphor, so I figured I'd share it with you too.

 “Telling the truth in an interesting way turns out to be about as easy and pleasurable as bathing a cat” 
            –Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott

I have never bathed a cat, but I gather that it is not the most enjoyable of activities.  This nugget of truth helps me to understand my own writing process.  I have stories that mix themselves inside my head, long novels, but I avoid them.  Why? Because as fun as washing a cat is, I’ve never found myself with a burning desire to wash a cat for an hour every day.  So I don’t write novels, even though they sometimes tease me and beg to be expounded upon.  This is why I write blogs instead.  I wait for a kind cat to slink up to me, to play around my legs and work its way between my hands so that I will pet it.  I then grab it, shove it in the water, get as much out of it as I can, and let it go.  This results in short, sporadic blog posts and everyone thinks I’m incredible.  They don’t see that I’m taking the easy way out.  I think it’s time to try to actually wash the cat.  

Lost in My Head

I've become lost, somewhere inside myself, somewhere in my head.  While wandering amidst the curves and crevices of my mind, between plans for the day, a half-written poem, calculus, and concern for a friend, I slowed down just enough for my secret to catch up to me- I don't know why I'm wandering.

I don't know why I'm wandering. Was I looking for something or running from something?  Is there a thought I'm trying desperately to remember, or a memory I'm striving diligently to forget?  Did a plan fall through and I just haven't readjusted yet, or has a goal been reached and I'm still rolling on the momentum? Regardless...

Due to my discovery, I've ceased strolling through trees of memory or checking on recently planted seedlings of hope and have instead sat in the shade of uncertainty while watching the clouds billow till they block out the sky.  I'm lost, not because I don't know where I am (though I'll be honest, I'm not quite sure) but because I'm suddenly unsure of where I was going?

As I seek input from the world outside my skin, I see your desire to help me.  I recognize that you are outside of the maze in which I've wrapped myself.  You can see the turn I'm missing, you can lead me to the end! And I yearn to rely on you to save me.  Then I realize, though you can see what I might be missing, you don't know what I'm missing. And I can't tell you, for I'm not quite sure.  So I step back inside my skin... feeling alone...right beside you.

Childish instinct blames you for not helping, at least until reason steps in and explains, leaving me internally conflicted and no less lost.  I begin to despair.  And finally, I recall the Rock that never moves but can always be found.  Seeking peace, I turn to my Father in prayer.  He knows why I was wandering, but more importantly, He knows where I ought to be.  And He has promised to help me get there.

Now, I need only get up and out of the shade...

14 for 14

Well, time for the generic "New Year's" post.  I decided to switch it up a bit this year.  I have my typical resolutions, but most of them are personal goals so there is no need to post them for the whole world to see.  However, here is one goal I would like to share, 14 activities for 2014.  Some of these I've done before and would just love to do again, some of them are new.  Point is, here are my plans to keep 2014 interesting and exciting.  Let's see if I can finish it all before another new year rolls around. 

1. Drive somewhere new. (and then come home and shamelessly take pictures like a tourist)
2. Read the Libro ni Mormon (Hiligaynon).
3. Finish an entire coloring book.
4. Buy myself flowers. (and leave a note as if it's from a secret admirer just for the fun of it)
5. Find a four-leaf clover.
6. Write a new song.
7. Go snowboarding.
8. Do something on my bucket list. (This one might be hard since 90% of my bucket list requires going to another country) 
9. Build a sandcastle.
10. Go cloud-watching.
11. Jump in a pile of leaves.
12. Have a sunrise picnic after staying up all night. (And while I'm at it, go on a midnight walk and wish on a shooting star)
13. Climb a tree. 
14. Make a cake from scratch.

And to make things more amusing, I'll try to blog about whatever activities I actually get around to.