Let's hope it's a good one, without any fear.

Wow, I have officially become terrible at communication. First things first: Happy Christmas! I know it's the day after... but to my mind, Christmas continues as long as I can sit here, look to my left, and see our off-kilter Christmas tree with it's multicolored twinkle lights.

I'm trying to think of what's been happening in the past two weeks, but it's rather difficult to sum up. AH! Though you should know that I PASSED MY MATH CLASS. Words (still) cannot express how happy this makes me. The realization that I'll never have to do math again, that I almost quit 3/4 of the way through but decided to attempt beating the odds, and that I'll NEVER HAVE TO DO MATH AGAIN (again), hits me at random intervals and makes me ridiculously giddy. A friend of mine was praying for my test, the day before it, and she made a comment to the effect of, "Even though these things don't really matter in the long run, to us it seems like the end of the world..." I've been realizing how true that is of most things. It would have sucked if I had to retake math next semester, but even then, I realized, it would have been over at some point - and then life would go on. Ten years from now I wouldn't really care either way. I mean, obviously I'm happy that that wasn't the case... but the point still stands: It wouldn't have been ideal, but it would have been alright. In any case, it would have been God's plan - and I'm beginning to realize that there's not much I can do about that. A little frustrating for us control-freaks, but in the end, incredibly comforting.

I really ought to be packing for Truckee (tomorrow!), or organizing my Christmas booty, or something useful. But I thought it best to check in and say what ho and all that, seeing as how I've been incredibly lazy about writing here. Not so much lazy - I just haven't had a second to spare. Finals were insane, and then I had like a week to prepare for Christmas - which was really difficult considering the fact that I was gone somewhere or another every stinking day. I was gone doing happy things for the most part, though, so I can't complain. In any case, the presents all got done somehow. You can always tell when the economy (national or familial) is bad when almost all the presents under the tree are home-made. But that lends a nice authenticity to it all, doesn't it?

We had a very low-key Christmas; not so low-key as last year, perhaps, but that's mostly because last year's Christmas didn't really exist. That was the first year that we didn't have an open house on Christmas day, like we've had every other Christmas that I can remember; we didn't have an open house yesterday, either. I guess everybody found a place to go for Christmas. Anyway. After our morning festivities were concluded here, we trooped over to Ami and Papa's and stayed there for the remainder of the day, seeing as how we haven't really been able to get Ami to come over here. As I said, very low key... just family, ham, mulled wine and (of course) coffee. At some point during the evening Kate pulled out her ukulele, and Jon pulled out his 12-string, so I grabbed my Takamine and somehow, Happy Christmas (War is Over) started. It wasn't perfect, seeing as how it was the first time we'd all three played together, but we had everybody singing with us and doing the over-lapping harmony thing at the end, and it was just one of those surreal moments that you see in classic movies. It was lovely.

Speaking of classic movies, we came home after and watched It's a Wonderful Life. At least, Jon, Kate and I did. I forget how amazing that movie is sometimes, maybe because I get so distracted with running around yelling, "MERRY CHRISTMAS, MOVIE HOUSE!" whenever I think of it. Also, maybe I've just gotten incredibly emotional in the past year... I never used to cry during movies. The whole last scene of the film had me in tears. I think when I was little I missed the entire point of the movie; but last night it suddenly hit me how much it related to my way of thinking, and Jon's, and Kate's... and then I realized that that's why the movie is so popular. Everyone is so desperate these days, for one thing or another - but no man is a failure who has friends. We all need to hear that once in a while.

Anyway, I ought to go pack. I'm so glad we're going away for a while - partly because I just want to sit with a blanket and read for hours on end, but also because everybody in this family severely needs to sleep for about 24 hours straight. I'll be back in a week or thereabouts, which means that this is the last post in the little section marked "2010". Which I'm a little upset about as I just got used to writing the year correctly. Oh well. This time next year, I'll be writing "2011" like a pro. Until January, however,

A very merry Christmas,
and a Happy New Year.
Let's hope it's a good one,
without any fear.

War is over, if you want it.
War is over
Now.

Decide what to be, and go be it.

I had to wake up at 6 today, while it was still pitch black outside. Miserable experience. As I was getting ready, though, the thought hit me that I've done much worse: my first semester at VC, I had a math final at 7, and I had woken up at 5 or 5:30. That had actually turned out to be a nice morning... after my final I had to wait for my ride (the other Laura) to finish with her final, so I sat on the lawn and read TS Eliot and drank coffee for an hour or two. Campus can be a surprisingly relaxing place when nobody's around.

It was a rather similar experience today. I honestly don't remember driving to school... but I went to class (I must have, I'm sure), tried my hardest to stay awake for the remaining speakers, and then headed over to Starbucks. Hanna and I were going to meet up for some coffee before I went home and she went to HER final. I got there at about 9 or a little after, and Hanna didn't get there till about 10, so I sat inside and read 1984. There's something about reading in a coffee house that makes you feel sort of classy - intellectual, at least. Though I suppose it depends on what you read. I also took to people watching, which is always entertaining in coffee houses. There are the teens who come to hang out and make a lot of noise (though they never stay long), the working mother who bustles in with her child (who will inevitably break one of the mugs on the shelf, as she did today - the mother will then try to clean it up while the barista hollers that it's really no problem and she shouldn't worry about it. Though I think in that case it's more about the worry of a potential law-suit.), the disheveled-looking old man in a baseball cap, the student who sits with his laptop at the table near the outlets (for some reason it's always a guy. Why is that?), and then the old married couple who sit and watch the birds on the pavement outside the window. Then sometimes you'll see (as I saw today) the semi-attractive man in a white-collared shirt underneath a black sweater, who orders his coffee in a cup and saucer and sits quietly, reading the newspaper. I like this particular sort the best, maybe because most people don't really read the paper anymore. I was also struck by the fact that he wasn't drinking out of a to-go cup like the rest of us.

And then of course, you can't resist wondering if anyone else is putting the inhabitants into stereotypes, and where they've put you. I like to think that I'd be in a category closer to my paper-man than the loud teenagers; especially since I wasn't talking. But you never can tell. Sometimes people are entirely mistaken about others, as I probably was at least once today. I guess there's no way of controlling that, though - if I chose to write a story about the people in Starbucks today, they couldn't do anything about it, just like I couldn't do anything if someone else were to write it. In a way that frustrates me, but in another way, I love its uncertainty. People are different. I suppose that's why, in general, we haven't gotten bored of us yet.

Wow.

I woke up this morning with an image of my yahoo inbox stuck in my head. It had four messages in it: three that were about mime, and one that was a notification from here letting me know that Bethany had commented on my blog. My waking thought was, Wow, I dream about email. My life sucks. I then proceeded with all my morning rituals, which include checking my email when I should be getting ready to walk out the door. I had four messages. You guessed it: three about mime, one blogger notification. So either I'm a psychic, or I actually slept-walked and checked my email last night.

I'm usually very boring while I'm asleep (or I assume so, anyway), but that's pretty fascinating, I thought. Weird, but fascinating. Especially that it was my email and not facebook or anything. It's just a good thing I didn't message anybody. I wonder if that's possible. The only other instance of my sleep-walking was about two years ago, when I woke up in different pajamas than I went to bed in. I guess I've gotten significantly nerdier since then.

I also had a dream that I wasn't in at all. It was about this boy that I know and in my dream, he was Peter Pan. Which for some reason made perfect sense. It started out with him being in an orphanage (similar to Peter and The Starcatchers), and then getting on a ship that is later shipwrecked on Neverland. Only, instead of a band of lost boys, he had Kelsey Grammar.

Finals do weird things to my mind.

But I am not shaken: I am eight years old.

My hands are ridiculously cold. They always are, and I always feel bad for people who are next to me when a prayer is about to be said, because I know that my problem is about to become their problem. It's all very sad.

I'm also ridiculously tired. I went to bed at a good time last night (about 11:30 or 12, I think), but then I woke up at 3 AM and slept on and off until 6, at which time I trudged to the shower. I had to give my persuasive speech in class today, and even though I was well-prepared I still felt anxious about it before-hand. I don't know what it is about giving speeches, but it's terrifying. Anyway. So I was nervous about that, and I'd also had about a billion cups of coffee to get me through math homework last night... so when I woke up at 3 AM with my heart beating really fast, and when I saw my cheery Christmas lights around my window, I decided that it must be Christmas Eve. I then got very excited and that charitable holiday spirit settled into me as I lay there. I briefly wondered if the stockings were filled yet. Then suddenly I realized that no; it's not Christmas. It's finals week. It was the saddest realization I could have possibly had.

Anyway. Despite being sleep-deprived, today's been pretty good. As I said, I gave my speech and it went really well. I got an A, anyway. I did it on anti-texting; well, technically, I said that we should value personal communication more highly than texting. But that was just so they wouldn't throw things at me. I am, in fact, highly anti-text.

I then came home, lounged around for a bit, then smeared my face with grease paint and headed to the government center. They do services on memorial days, and as today was the Pearl Harbor Remembrance day, the mime team went and did our two patriotic songs. That went well, too, and it was doubly happy since my Mom got to come and so did Amelia and her family. I like it when people come to support, it's nice. I do get nervous doing those songs in front of veterans, however, especially when I'm holding the flag. I'm always afraid that I'll drop the flag and then someone will shoot me. They probably have snipers on the roof specifically for people who drop flags: even if they're poor defenseless mimes like me. Well, anyway, it hasn't happened yet. So that's good.

I'm so bored. It's 8:30 and I honestly feel like I could go to bed right now, but that would be lame. The only other option, then, is to stay awake. But, stay awake doing what? C'est le question. I'm not feeling mightily creative... in fact I'm feeling mightily zombie-esque. AGH, speaking of zombies, our last speech class is scheduled for 8 AM. This makes me angry. The trees on the way to school are beautiful these days, though, which is a nice thing to see early in the morning. I don't remember really being able to see autumn colors in this part of the state, in the years past... but I've been noticing a lot of red lately. It's lovely.

This week is going to be insane. We have like 7 mime performances, and I've got my two hardest finals coming up (Monday and Wednesday). By the time I'm done with school on the 15th, I'll have 10 days to do Christmas shopping. Oh my gosh. 10 days. That actually just occurred to me for the first time. SHOOT. I need money.

But when I say that this week will be "insane", you who know me and my psychotic tendencies shouldn't be worried about my well-being. Finals aren't getting me down. I'm too close now to let anything get me down. A little sleep, a lot of coffee, a clear head, and lots of grace. That's all I need these days.

"You will never be completely at home again because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."

Wisdom of two years past.

I was looking at some of my old ramblings and came across this... it made me laugh. Also made me revisit the issue. This is a current problem, people.

Tonight something's been bothering me: "lmao". Really, where did that originate? Whenever someone types that I want to say, "LIAR!" Or, in the case that they actually DID "l" their "a" off, well then.... we've got bigger problems.

Ah yes, you caught me - I am a philosopher at heart.

If you wait for the sunshine, you might wait for a while.

And if you hate these feelings
You can hold onto me until it dies:
And you rise,
May you rise.

I went to Ivy Lawn today, on the way home from school. I thought that I've been dealing with Papa's death in the past year, but I don't really know that I have. Or at least, if I've tried, it obviously hasn't worked. I think my way of dealing with it has been to try and make everyone else feel better about it. When I go to see Ami, and there's a lull in conversation, I can see that she's thinking about him... so I've gotten very good at coming up with something to talk about quickly. I guess one reason for that is that I don't want her being sad... another reason would be that I don't know what to do when she cries. When anyone cries, in fact. It's not that I don't understand them, I think it's that I feel too much empathy. That makes being encouraging sort of difficult. Since Sunday I've been trying to think of what I need to do to confront the things that have been bothering me. I'm still working on that, but when I thought of things that I consider "difficult", I thought of Papa's funeral, and how every day when I drive past the cemetery, my head goes blank and I don't think about anything at all for a few minutes. So today, after class and after I had gone to see Amelia for a while, I drove to Ivy Lawn.

I actually almost turned around at the gate, because it suddenly hit me how much I hate cemeteries - even that famous one in LA, Forest Lawn, which is apparently really cool... my mom and sister like cemeteries because they're quiet and "peaceful". I've never really been able to view death that way, though. Even at Papa's funeral, all I wanted was to get off the cemetery grounds and back into the normal world where there are cars and people and grass that isn't perfectly green. For some reason though, today I parked on the complete opposite end of the cemetery, so I had to walk through all the lawns and headstones. Papa's "grave" isn't really a grave - I don't know what to call it. It's inside the chapel wall. He's 4 up and either 7 or 9 over - I can't remember which. I don't know why he and my grandmother chose to do that - I don't like the fact that he's not underground. It's unnatural. I also don't like the fact that the slab with his name is higher than my head so that I can't reach it. There's a vase attached to each slab of marble, but there's no way to reach that high to put flowers in. It makes me sad that almost every vase had flowers except his. It gives off the impression that he didn't have anyone, which is obviously not true. Speaking of flowers, on the way back to my car I saw a maintenance man going around and taking dead flowers off of headstones and throwing them away. That made me sad, too. I guess it's important to keep the place clean, but really. Those flowers aren't hurting anyone.

When I went into the chapel, I turned the corner slowly because I wasn't sure if someone would be having a service in there; but it was empty. I walked down the side aisle, looking around, and then stopped and looked up - I was standing directly in front of his plaque. It was strange and eerie and cool all at the same time. The one plus about Papa being in the chapel is that I could sit in the pew next to him for a while. I can't actually remember thinking anything in particular this afternoon - other than that it was cold, and I remembered how I had sat next to my grandmother on the pew across the aisle on the day of his funeral. It had been cold that day, too - it was December, after all - and Jesse's mom had given me her black jacket with leopard print inside. Odd the things one remembers.

In all, I was there almost an hour today. I don't know that it really did anything - I've felt a bit out of touch with emotion since Sunday, so it's hard to tell. I think I was half expecting some huge breakthrough to happen, but I guess that was silly. Amelia said that her family used to go and visit her baby sister's grave every year - it was supposedly part of the healing process. She also said that they don't go anymore, because it seems like now it would hurt more than help. Then I started thinking, maybe it's exactly the opposite for me. I needed time to distance myself; but now maybe I ought to start going more often. It makes sense, in a backwards sort of way.

Either way, I want to figure out how to put a yellow rose in Papa's vase.

With paranoia on my heels

I read somewhere that only 1 in 10 adults has nightmares more than a few times a month. I wonder if that's accurate, or if it's only the experience of one very lucky person talking. I've always had frequent nightmares, though they've gotten much worse in the past year. I also have dreams where I'm just crying throughout; by the time I wake up I'm exhausted. Then there are the mornings (like yesterday, and two days before that, as well) when I wake up and have no idea what day it even is. Actually, what happens is that I dream I've already gotten up and gone off to school and gone through my day... then I wake up assuming that I took a nap and that it must be the middle of the afternoon when it is, in fact, 7:00am. Yesterday I laid in bed for a full five minutes, trying to remember what I had done the day before so I could figure out what day it was. I think I have problems.

I've had a weird few days. I called Amelia after dinner tonight (when I feel overwhelmed with depression or stress I usually feel better after a conversation with her), and she was trying to help me sort out some things. (Also, trying to talk me into being in love with some boy or another... we get far too bored without them to talk about, and when I claim that I'm not interested in anyone she'll hound me about it until she gets some sort of satisfaction. Which really only complicates things in the end... but at least she's happy...) Anyway. I'm glad I've got her. I've been realizing lately how much I don't talk about, and how hugely I explode on the occasion that it does come out. I love my parents, but it's become sort of hard to talk to them about things. There are lots of reasons, but I guess mainly it's because we're all tired, and we're all stressed - I can't complain to them and expect pity, when they're handling things that are just as difficult. Which sounds petty and selfish, I guess, but it's true. Also, I've become a bit of a masochist these days: I hate being alone because it leaves me in my head for too long... but when I'm with people, all I want is to be left alone. I'm not happier when I'm alone, per se, but it's much easier for me. It makes sense, but I can't figure out what to do with that.

There are other things, however, that don't make sense at all. Yesterday, for example. Jon and Kate were here until last night for Thanksgiving break, and after the three of us came home from church, I asked Jon some questions about Dad's sermon. He wasn't really paying attention to me while I was asking, and then took to responding with the general, "so why do we think that?" and "why do you say that?", instead of answering my questions... so I got frustrated. That much I can understand: I've always been an instant-gratification/give-me-answers-now kind of person. What I don't understand is that, when I got frustrated with Jon, I started crying. I honestly didn't know why - I wasn't even that worked up about the issues we were discussing. I just started crying. Jon then got worried about me (can't blame him), and wouldn't let me go until I had given him some reason for all this... we sat down on the top of the stairs and all of the sudden I was telling him things that I didn't even know still bothered me. About everything. We talked for almost an hour, and I was still crying. (And I don't even mean random tears and sniffling - I mean the kind of crying where you aren't actually breathing.) I feel like I wrung myself out and now I don't know what I'm left with... you know how you get that headache after you cry? That's how I've felt for the last two days. These past weeks I've actually felt pretty good - I've been keeping busy, doing pretty well in school, hanging out with people who make me happy. And then yesterday I snapped.

I guess that's what happens when you push things back and lock them up. I know you're supposed to deal with the things that bother you - I thought that I had already dealt with some of them. And with others, I honestly don't even know how to begin to deal with them. In the past few days, I've been struck again and again with the realization that I don't know a lot of things. I know that that's a good thing to know, but that doesn't mean I like it, or that I know what to do with that knowledge. I guess to just start over.

But starting over is incredibly daunting. Especially when you're at your weakest point.

And the world spins madly on.

I was talking to a younger girl (by "younger" I simply mean pre-teen) today... one of those sweet girls from a sweet family who I've known since she was practically a baby. Lately I've realized that girls that age (especially whose families I've known for a while) tend to really like me and hang around me; which, of course, means that I've got to be a bit more careful than usual about what I say and such. But anyhow - this girl was talking to me about what's been going on with her lately, and then she lowered her voice and told me something that that has been worrying her lately: "I think I'm a cynical person sometimes," she said. "You and the older girls are so cool - you know what you're doing... but people my age... I just don't like them much."

At first I just wanted to be like, "Kid, get used to it." Then the second thing I thought of was, ha, I know what I'm doing? (I'm a better actor than I thought.) Followed closely by: if this girl - this adorable, perky, wonderful little Christian girl - is cynical, then what does that make me?

For some reason it really bothered me. I've never really thought of cynicism as a bad thing... at least, not something worth worrying about and trying to fix. Most of the time I'd rather be cynical than disappointed. But this girl was so concerned about becoming a cynical person. Granted, she was horribly wrong about me and the "older girls" - we don't know what we're doing. (Well, maybe they do, but I certainly don't, anyway.) But I think in the particular area of views on cynicism, she's right: it isn't something to be comfortable with; certainly not something to be proud of. It's odd; I feel almost guilty about what she said... and maybe a little disappointed that I don't really have it all "worked out" like I apparently seem to. Maybe that's how it's always been with the people we look up to... I wonder if anybody ever did have things figured out by the time people took to noticing them.

The Lion in Winter

"We're jungle creatures, Henry, and the dark is all around us. In the corners you can see their eyes..."

"And they can see ours. I'm a match for anything - aren't you?"

Don't let your soul grow lonely,

Child, it's only time: It will go by.

And we all shine on.

It's 10:03. I'm listening to Lennon Legend, drinking my second pot of coffee (granted, Dad helped with the first one), and trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow night. I'm going to a play at school with some friends and one should always look her best at the theater. It's just a fact of life. In fact, I should be coming up with TWO outfits, since I'm going to one play tomorrow and another (the brother's) on Friday. So that's exciting. Anyway... I think I might eat a second dinner soon, since I need to keep awake somehow, and coffee is only taking me part-way. They gave us all days to register on for next semester's classes, and my day is tomorrow... but, these classes fill up horribly fast. SO, the genius plan conspired is that I should stay up so I can register come 12:01. It's genius, that is, except for the fact that I'm dead tired AND I have speech class early tomorrow. Not only that, but I'm giving MY speech tomorrow. And I'm the first one to go. 9:00. Hmm; prayers would be nice.

I'm prepared, really... practiced a million times, and I've got nice little notecards and everything. But still. Giving a speech in class is about 20 million times harder than performing on a stage. When the words are someone else's, you can do whatever you want with them. When they're yours, the responsibility is, too. Which is a scary thing.

About this time last Wednesday, I was pretty much having an emotional/mental/whatever-you-want-to-call-it breakdown, thinking about all the things I had to do in the span of the ensuing 8 days or so. So I took a piece of paper, titled it "Game Plan" and wrote out a schedule of EVERY SINGLE THING I had to do. I've been filling out the little bubbles along the way, and since tomorrow is the last of the evil evil days (the next 4 weeks are only mildly evil in comparison), today was the last day on the schedule. Tonight when I finished my visual aid for my speech (and hence filled in the last bubble), I folded the schedule into a series of paper cranes. I haven't even made a crane in years... that's something to be said for muscle memory. Or else pure determination. Anyway - I then placed said cranes on a baking sheet and took a match to them. It's all very symbolic, really. The only trouble was that the fire went out after it burnt the heads off all the cranes. (I have a feeling that's symbolic too... but I'm not quite sure.) After much effort, I finally managed to burn the miserable cranes to ashes, but by then the house was all smoky and Mom wasn't too happy. But still - I did it. I feel oddly triumphant.

Who's to say there's no pleasure in the little things in life?

I realized today that there are only another 4 weeks of school. This thought fills me with joy but also with dread. I'm glad it's almost over... but 4 weeks isn't much time to turn my grade in math around. I decided not to drop the class. This could go for or against me, in a huge way. I was planning on dropping it, and just retaking it next semester... but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I absolutely have to do everything I can to make sure that I don't have to survive another semester like this one. If that means living and breathing math for another 28 days, so be it. It'll all be worth it if I get a passing grade. And if I don't.... well.... I try not to think about that. Basically what would happen is that I'd have to retake it in the spring, and then get a counselor to give me an "E" ("exempt") for this semester's class. So the failed grade would show up on my transcript, but my new grade would replace it so far as my GPA. Which is the important thing to keep up for those of us who are English majors. There's a lot of this choose-your-battles business in college. I just hope I win.

Speaking of college. I'm thinking about Wheaton more and more. There are lots of reasons for this... but I have to admit that one of said reasons is so that I can walk around singing "My Kind of Town" like Frank. That and they have a good Creative Writing program. AND a semester (or year) in Oxford. Love. Speaking of singing, last night I was struck by the holiday spirit so while I worked on my speech, I listened to Bing Crosby (pandora station: White Christmas) and drank hot chocolate. It was loveliness incarnate. Well, y'know, aside from the whole homework thing.

Well. I think I'm going to go eat... and then try on shmancy clothes... and then drink more coffee... and then do something or other.... and then sign my life away for another semester. C'est la vie.

POWER TO THE PEOPLE. Sing it, John, sing it.

Ohhh Mondays.

Feeling a little under the weather and entirely worn out. I spent 6 hours writing an 8 minute speech last night, and went straight from that to writing another paper for art appreciation. I'm about to leave for a day of classes, and I still have tons of math homework to do when I get home from mime tonight, circa dinner time. Just feeling kinda down and super overwhelmed. Prayers please?

Thesaurus. Always sounded like a dinosaur to me...

Travel

I’ve always had a certain wanderlust:
A dream to be off, to see the world.
To traverse the borders from one land to another,
To Voyage, to Journey,
To Know.
Not just a tour,
Or simply a trip.
I want to experience Life in another place,
To see the colors of distant countries.
Travel isn’t just a hobby,
Or a way to roam around.
It’s an Adventure, an Exploration.
To travel is to be Free.

Whyyy

does everything have to happen at the same time? Seriously, Homework. College plans. Presentations. People. Brain. Give me a break!

Say hey, don't you leave me in L.A. alone,

Lover...please please please please...
Turn your car around and come back home.
New York is such a beautiful city I'm sure:
It's just too far from California,
Just too far from California,
A little too far from California for me.

I've rediscovered a few old favorites, music-wise. Namely, Arcade Fire and Joe Purdy. (Obviously not to be listened to together.) I think the trouble with Joe Purdy is that everyone connects him with that lovable but obnoxious song "Just Can't Get It Right Today". If you listen to the album Sessions from Motor Ave while driving along that coast-lining highway at night, however, I bet you'll appreciate him more. Speaking of motors, I've decided that I should become one of those girls who knows about cars. The only trouble is that I don't know where to start. My brother (though he will deny this and kill me for saying it) isn't much good with them, and while my father knows how to change the oil and apply tire chains (and that, sometimes, takes some doing), I think that Papa really cornered the market on automobile-intelligence around here. At the co-op where I've taken classes since 4th grade, they're offering an Automotive Basics course this year, but it's full and I didn't get in. Which is sad. I don't want to have to depend on my guy friends (who ARE in the class) the next time my tire blows. A girl shouldn't be helpless in this world, after all. I spoke to my grandma about the matter the other day, and she told me about the Automotive Basics course that she took at college. She said that she took it with a friend, and it was a wonderful class because they didn't really have to do anything. I told her that my guy-friends have all had to change the tires on their cars during class time, and added that it sounded fun to me. "Not in silk stockings!" she said. I said I supposed she had me there.

Aaaanyway. Maybe I'll find me a manual or something.

I've also rediscovered my love of stretchy pants. Actually this might be a first-time discovery; don't know that I've ever really worn them much. I'm talking about those black stretchy capri's that one wears in exercise classes - they're fantastic! You can sit cross-legged on the computer chair, which tight American Eagle jeans never really let you do. Ha, I'm a picture at the moment... me sitting here in my stretchy pants, red plaid-flannel jacket, and holding my Mary Poppins mug. If I had to draw a picture of happiness, this might just be it.

I had a math test today. I've been doing so poorly in this class that I basically decided that this test will determine the class's future: if I fail the test, I drop the class. Because if I don't drop, and if I keep on failing tests, I'm going to fail the class, which wouldn't look so hot on a transcript. If I do well on the test, I'll take it as a sign that I can work my butt off and escape the class with at least a C. (It's hilarious, looking back at my posts from last semester... I was worked into a horrified frenzy over a B. Ha!) Anyway. The test. It only had 6 problems, which is a good thing and a bad thing. I actually feel like it went pretty well, over all - though I know that I got 1 wrong, for sure, and when you only have 6 problems, 1 is a pretty big deal. So hopefully that's all I got wrong. Either way, I'm sure you'll hear about it later. For now, I'm just glad the test is over.

Ah! We worked on CHRISTMAS SONGS today in mime. I am so excited. Though, some of them are inevitably weird; one of them, in particular, is hilariously wacky... we all kind of look like elves from the 70's. (I suppose, however, that if you're going to be an elf, you might as well be from the 70's. Tis the way.) Anyhow. Christmas is a nice thought. A new year, new semester, The Dining Room, graduation, trip to Ireland with mum. Happiness.

Hmm. I know I should be doing something right now, but I can't think of what.... oh well. One more cup of coffee for the road.

Here, there, and everywhere.

I've been realizing today how insane this month is going to be. But then I came to the conclusion that it's only one month. It will be evil and hard and stressful, but after a while it'll be gone and I'll never have to see it again. Then it'll be December... and the first two weeks of that will be ridiculously full of finals... but that, too, will be over in a matter of days. And then I'll be finished with this nasty semester, and my family will be able to have a real Christmas. I'm ready to be warm and cozy and festive. It's been too long without it.

Ooh, we had our first mime performance on Halloween (Reformation Day, yes.). It was at one of the mime's church's Fall Festival, and we did 12 songs. Well, I only did 3... but it all went very well. It's odd how powerful those presentations are to people - everyone, not just the audience. I suppose it's something to do with how visual and physical it all is. It just effects people very strongly, which is precisely the reason I love it. Because otherwise we'd just be a bunch of weird kids making weird faces with our white paint and eyeliner.... but it's a lot more than that. And I'm very much looking forward to our next performance. :)

Ah! Now it's time for the most recent installment of Jana letters. She makes me so happy.

Hello Laura,
Do you like pizza? I love pizza. what you birhday? I 15.5. 2000. Herman is angrý! Do you like Karel IV, Czech king?

Hello Jana,
I LOVE pizza. American pizza is very different from Czech pizza, though... but both are very good. Have you ever had American pizza? My birthday is April 7. Our birthdays are only about a month apart :) Why is Herman angry? My cat is angry, but she is always a little angry.
I don't know much about Karel IV... will you tell me about him?
(Bip!)

Hello Laura,
sorry, my birthday is 15.4.; 15.5. was a mistake. Herman is always hungry, not angry :-)) It is funny.
Karel IV, he was separted from his mother when he was 3 years old and was imprisoned. At the age of 7 he was sent to France. He learned French, Latin and German. He could not speak English. At school, I will have a short prezentation on Karel IV. Do you like gifts? Karel IV died of pneumonia.
BYE BIP BYE BIP
(with a little help of my father)
Jana

Why can't everyone be as fantastic as this little Czech girl? While I was there, she was really into making thing with beads, and she made me a flower one day, and an angel another. The angel hangs from a wire on my bulletin board, so I see it every day. It was kind of funny; she gave it to me one night when we were driving back to Prague from Liberec (about two hours away) and along the way it kept getting lost somehow (slipping out of my hand when I fell asleep, etc.), but I (or somebody else) always ended up finding it again. When I woke up the next morning I still had it in my fist.

When I'm stressed about school or other things, I randomly remember things like that, and I just want to get on a plane and fly away again.

I had a lengthy discussion about the power of myth with a post-modern author who didn't exist.

Haiku:

Dark and majestic
Rain falls on the ancient bridge
Baptism of the saints


Acrostic:

Smug and silent
Until her eyes reveal her
Killer
Instinct

And another one for good measure...

Find something out about yourself,
If you have the courage to try.
Resist the urge to
Stick with the familiar:
This day will be your first.


Cinquain:

Take-Off
Loud, Swift
Whirring, Thundering, Speeding
Suddenly you glide on air
Beginning


Five Sense Poetry:

Comfort
Comfort is the color of a candle’s glow.
It sounds like the inflection used in prayer.
It tastes like a frothy latte
And smells like warm vanilla.
Comfort looks out at the rain from a warm room
And makes you feel like everything is in its place.


I need to do a thesaurus poem next but I hate that kind. I also can't think of a word.

This ain't no place for the weary kind.

Sometimes I get really frustrated with people. Half the population, in particular. I suppose it's not really their fault - maybe I'm too stubborn, or too easily annoyed. I think the high school years (and even a year or two before that) have ruined my high opinions and made me suspicious of them. I also think sometimes that my dog has rabies.

Today is yet another "first" without Papa - he would have been 86 today. I'd made up my mind not to make a big deal about it... I mean, Ami is going to have a hard enough time herself today, and I know Dad is, too. But today in church I just couldn't stop thinking about him. I think the hardest thing for me to accept is that the people I'll build my life with someday will never have known him. I'll never get to introduce him to my boyfriend. He won't be at my wedding, and my kinds won't have a great-grandfather. I feel like Papa is so much a part of all of us that it's impossible for someone NOT to know him... but I suppose it kind of has to be possible after all. Every time I feel like I'm moving past it, something comes up and brings me back. When Dad and Mom come home from church we're going to Ami's to spend the afternoon with her. I know it's the important thing to do... but all I really want to do is go somewhere totally unrelated to all of this - read a book, drink some coffee, watch a movie, I don't know. Just not this.

But on a motorbike, when all the city lights blind your eyes tonight, are you feeling better now?

Alright. Due to the fact that Biola's application deadline for fall '11 is in a few weeks, I have had to make a few very important decisions. As of right now, here's where I am.

I've decided to stick around for another year (weird, I know), since there are more classes that I need/want to take than I could do in a single semester (which is all I'd have, if I decided to transfer in the fall.). So, I will take more grueling ugly classes next semester (including possibly another college algebra class... the realization of which just made a little part of me die). Then I'll have a nice little summer. Fall 2011 I shall continue at VC with more general ed classes, plus fun ones that I've been wanting to take but won't really transfer. I shall also get more involved with theater stuff and get a job. Then in spring 2012 (if, indeed, the Mayans were wrong and we'll all still be around by that time...) I will fly off to somewhere somehow. Still working on how I'd get to Ireland at this point. Then I'll come back, have another nice little summer, and transfer to somewhere. (Biola as a sophomore, anywhere else as a junior, since Torrey will call for 3 years instead of the 2 that everywhere else asks for.). I'll survive 2-3 years of college at which point I will hopefully be something of a fantastic writer. Past that, I haven't really thought about. This is all I have so far.

Somebody tell me it's a good idea?
(I figure asking for affirmation outright isn't as annoying as implying the need for it.)

p.s.

Today while I was walking to class, I was given a Gideons Bible by a man who was passing them out to students. It's a little odd being on the other side of that kind of thing...

We heard the Monkeys on the radio, the only song you know.

Wednesdays are usually relatively easy - that is, I have two classes, each an hour and twenty minutes, and that's hardly anything at all. But today, for some reason, those hours spent in class felt like the longest out of the semester. I don't know if I mentioned it, don't think I did, but Monday's math test didn't go too well. Not well at all, in fact. It's so weird to me to get back these papers that are all marked up and then have to consider dropping the class, when I've always been a straight A student. Monday was a miserable day - I had the math test first thing, and I didn't get home from all the day's activities until about 6... which meant that I had to fight back whatever horrible depressed feeling was trying to grab me. When I got home that night I crashed. Seeing the grade today didn't help that much.

Art Appreciation pretty much put me to sleep. Also, we had to do one of those teacher-evaluation things. It seems like I never get to do an evaluation on a teacher that I actually like. I always wonder what other put on those sheets, when they clearly don't like the class either. Are they openly rude, or overly-polite? I'm never sure which to be in these cases...

Oh! Yesterday in speech we had our debate. It was our speech class vs. the speech class next door... going into it, we really had no idea what we were doing. I mean we all did research (at least I did... don't really know about some of the others) but we hadn't really put it together into an actual formatted speech. (The resolution, by the by, was that the US should ban offshore drilling. We're on the negative side, which means that in the inevitable battle of economy vs. environment, we're for cold hard cash. In the extremist view, anyway.) It went pretty well though, all things considered... the other class was more polished but their arguments were dumb. We had better points but were too easily amused. So we'll see what the teachers decide after round two tomorrow. (For an example on their arguments, though... a girl in Waltzer's class took our 'economy' arguments a little far and during cross-ex, she asked something like, "So if you're just into making money, why don't we use another industry - like selling cocaine?" We all kind of chuckled but she was totally serious. Things went downhill from there.)

I also have to figure out what on earth I'm doing after this semester. It drives me crazy that I have to decide this stuff right now... all I want is to survive this semester in one piece!

sigh. Enough of that.

Yesterday I had a happy surprise waiting for me: Jana (a little girl from Prague who was my buddy) had her brother translate a message from her to me on facebook.

BIP! My dear Laura, how are you? I'm at home with my brother now, because we are ill (now is 11:49 by us). Have you any pet? I have a little frog and little fish (this year born in our garden lake). Do you like dogs? I love dogs! But my parents don't want a dog. Do you go to school? Do you like school? Which job do you want to do? Will you come again in the Czech republic? Jana BIP!

That pretty much made my day. :) The "Bip!" thing, by the way, is a reference to our poking game. Whenever we were around each other we'd have poke wars, where you had to say "bip" whenever you poke someone else. (Her "bip" came out more like "beep", though. Aghh she was so cute.) Anyway, I wrote back, and I guess she got tired of waiting for Kaja to translate a response, so she wrote to my yahoo account:

Hello Laura
Kája me facebook show. frog name Herman!!!! Do you like frog? what name your
dogs and cat? BIP and BIP!!!
I don't like school only English:).
HELLO
JANE BIP!!!

I sure hope I get to see Jana and her family again. They were lovely people.



Well. I am suddenly inspired by my fantastic music taste. So I'm going to go make mix cd's and drown my sorrows in coffee. (Which, according to psychology, is just below nicotine in terms of addiction problems. Hm.)

Things

1. The day in fall when it becomes cold enough to wear a scarf.
2. Singing in the car.
3. Window-boxes.
4. Inky pens.
5. The moon and how it looks from different towns, states, and countries.
6. Nice handwriting.
7. The crispness of a new book, and the sincerity of an old one.
8. Turkish coffee.
9. Reading Robert Frost on a plane.
10. People who know what to do when the power goes out. Specifically, the people who know where the candles are.
11. Streetlamps and how they look before sunrise.
12. Good whistlers.
13. The common dream about flying.
14. A warm place to come home to after a long day in the cold.
15. Getting your driver’s license. (!)
16. Teaching people in another country how to make s’mores. (Apparently they’re only common in America. Weird, huh?)
17. Knowing what to wish for before you blow out the candles.
18. Long coats.
19. Hot candied walnuts.
20. A friend’s consolation that doesn’t consist of, “Aw, I’m sorry.”
21. A mother’s advice that doesn’t stop at, “It’ll all work out.”
22. Buttons.
23. Flying over enough of London to see a red double-decker bus.
24. People who say “whoopsidaisies”.
25. Old postage stamps.
26. I Love Lucy reruns in the middle of the night.
27. Street musicians.
28. Wearing your big brother’s jacket.
29. A clean, quiet library.
30. A clean, well-lighted place. (That is, if you’re of those who like to stay late at the café; With those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night.)
31. The person who knows how you like your coffee.
32. Train stations at sunrise.
33. Late night walks with hot chocolate and a friend.
34. Restaurants unique to California, such as In-n-Out.
35. Oversized mugs.
36. Cathedral spires.
37. People who do voices when reading aloud.
38. Flipping to another month on a calendar.
39. The road that rises to meet you,
40. The wind that is at your back,
41. The sunshine that warms your face,
42. The rain that falls soft upon the fields,
43. Being held in the palm of God’s hand.

It's a jungle out there.

Every once in a while I wish that somebody would tell me what to do. Too many things are judgment calls these days, and I don't like the responsibility. Mostly I don't like having to accept the consequences when I make a dumb decision. I first realized this on the day that I almost got in a car wreck while making a left turn into my neighborhood. After that day I realized that that was it - that's what's been bugging me for the past year or two. I don't feel old enough to drive, I don't feel old enough to be in college... I don't feel old enough for a lot of the things that have happened this year. And I'm tired of hearing the phrase, "Fake it till you make it." I know it's all a necessary part of growing up. But sometimes I wish growing-up would give me a break.

I'm drinking airborne right now, which is always an unpleasant experience. I started feeling a sore throat coming on last night and today I woke up feeling miserable. Just what I needed, going into this next week. Argh. I have another crazy test-filled week starting Monday - and so far everything else has been working against me. Being sick is kind of the kick when I'm already down. Then, when I'm stressing out about school and looking to blame somebody, I suddenly realize that these classes were all my idea. And I get that left-turn feeling all over again.

I know that I can't expect to be perfect this semester. I won't get all A's - I know that. I just need to convince myself of the fact that it's okay.

Anyway - enough whining. Lately I've been thinking (A LOT) about what I'm going to do after I graduate. For the past year or so I've been thinking that I could very well go to Biola this fall (that is, after summer... not right now)... but then it occurred to me that if I don't get to travel before college, it might not happen. So Option 2 is this: stay at VC another semester (ech) and take whatever I think I might need/want, possibly get more involved in theater stuff... find a job and make money... then, come spring semester, I could find some connections in Europe (Ireland, anyone?) and go abroad for a month or two, lounging around and writing and things. Then I come back - have a nice little summer - and go off to college land, wherever that might be.

Option 2 sounds lovely to me, except for the fact that by the time I DID transfer to someplace, I'd be old for my class. That, and the fact that I'd be a year later in graduating... AND the thought of staying another semester at VC does kind of kill me.

I've been at this awkward standstill in decision-making for about a week. Like I said. I need somebody to tell me what to do.

"Now it's just like all the other horses."

Ok, so after Phantom of the Opera, The Dining room, and a few other sacred plays that I've forgotten at the moment, I want to be in The Glass Menagerie. If you haven't read it, read it. It will break your heart. Also, the girl's name is Laura... which I believe is a sign. I must find this play somewhere and jump in.

Love is simple.

I really do like having a license. Today when I left the school library, walked down the parking lot and got into my car, I felt distinctively grown up. Which is not always a happy feeling, but today it was. I drove home without mishap (which is getting more common every day, huzzah.) and when Lucy in the sky with diamonds came on 95.5, I sang along at the top of my lungs. Then I realized that singing in the car really only works if you have someone else with you, so you have an excuse to be weird and loud. But I suppose I didn't care enough to stop.

In two hours or so I'm going over to Beth's old harp teacher's house, because the woman is also pretty good at teaching math. She got Kate through college algebra, anyway. So hopefully she can do the same for me. Aside from that, I've got a bunch of psychology to read. This chapter, about consciousness, is titled "To Sleep, Perchance to Dream". It also started out with an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland, which I liked. Alice in Wonderland + Hamlet = promising chapter. Perhaps I'll stay awake for this one.

Mom sent me an email today about missionworks in Ireland. Whenever something like that happens, I'm distracted all day long. It's been a lifelong dream of mine to go there - though hopefully, between plans of study-abroad trips in school, after-graduation trips with the parents, or my own vagabond expeditions, ONE of those will work out. This is one goal I intend to reach. I don't know that I could go on a missiontrip there, partly because you have to be 19 for this one, and also partly because I think I might rather go on my own (as in, not through an organization). Maybe I could do something like Jon did in Prague, and just ask the missionaries there if I could live with them/help them out with whatever for a while. That seems like the best bet. Depending on the missionaries, of course.

Also. I was just reading my friend Katrina's blog about her new job as a writer with a magazine (congratulations, by the way!), and it pretty much reminded me of what I want to do. Every once in a while I forget and spend a week or two floundering around for ideas... but then something always points me back to writing. What kind of writing, exactly, I don't know. But it's the only thing that makes sense.

But, I suppose before I can do any of that, I'd best get through 12th grade. One foot in front of the other and all that.

I miss you.

Oh Yoshimi.

'Cause she knows that
it's demanding
to defeat those evil machines.
I know she can beat them.

Oh Yoshimi, they don't believe me,
but you won't let those robots eat me.
Yoshimi, they don't believe me,
but you won't let those robots defeat me.

What a fantastic, weirdly comforting song. Jon showed it to me yesterday while we were talking about depression and stuff. This week was really rough. Since I can remember I've had patches of Big Black Dog Days (referring, of course, to Churchill's description of his depression phases.), and when I'm stressed about school it gets harder to push off. But the good news is that after a horrible low point (usually a period of a day, in this case, Monday), things begin to look up again. That's today. My art-appreciation midterm was today, but I really wasn't stressed about that one because I figured that I've taken enough art and history classes to do well on this one. I'm pretty sure I was right - I only know of one question that I missed, so that's good. Also, today's the day that I drive from one community college to another, which means getting on the freeway - and it's also the first time I did it alone. AND is was raining. I usually love rain but I have to say, driving in rain is the worst. I think people get together before they get on the road and decide to be as nasty as possible... cause seriously. Gah.

BUT, I survived. All else is beside the point.

I'm a little tired right now and can't really think of what I should be doing. I've taken to collaging EVERYTHING, and when I'm not doing that or school or writing, I also work on a list of happy things I started writing last week. At the beginning of the most recent Big Black Dog Days, I realized that it's much easier for me to concentrate on negative things than positive ones. So I started a list. And when I'm too tired or sad to think of things to add to it, that's when I know that I NEED to. It hasn't solved my problems, but I think it helps. In any case, it gives me something to do.

Speaking of happy things, I have a Mary Poppins mug. Did I tell you that? Amelia bought it for me when she was at Disneyland a week or two ago. It's a twilight setting with the rooftops of London (and Big Ben) silhouetted around the bottom. On one side there's a silhouette-Mary Poppins floating with her umbrella, and on the other side is three silhouette-chimney sweeps dancing on a rooftop holding kites. A few weeks ago I put a quote on one of my blogs from Bert, the one about the world at one's feet and "who gets to see it but the birds, the stars, and chimney sweeps". That's what it reminds me of. When she gave it to me, Amelia said, "I thought it was perfect because I know you watch Mary Poppins when you're stressed." haha, I'd never realized that I do that, but I suppose it's true. In any case, the mug is my happiness.

'Cause she knows that
it'd be tragic
if those evil robots win.
I know she can beat them.

The weather was fine and the ocean was great,

and I can't wait to see you again.

It's almost midnight and I'm sitting here nursing my aching feet, drinking a mug of hot milk, and listening to the Avett Brothers. I'm a happy girl.

Amelia came over after groups yesterday and spent the night, and we spent today doing absolutely NOTHING. It was the most relaxed day I've had since I came back from Europe.. and a long time before that, too. We sat on the couch for like 6 hours, drinking coffee, singing Frank Sinatra, eating bagels, and watching 'Castle'. Then we went to the 'back to school' dance (which is odd, seeing as how I've been in school for well over a month), and I danced more tonight than I have at any other dance in a long time. It was awesome! Being at VC so much, I forget sometimes how endearing homeschoolers actually are... but they're fantastic. If you don't know a homeschooler, you should. (And if you know me, that counts, too.) I mean what other high-schoolers get together and lindy-hop or swing dance for fun? It IS odd, being among the oldest there now... the youngsters are pretty hilarious to watch, being so awkward themselves. But for me and the folks I know, it's a lovely time. Dances like tonight are one of the things I'll miss when I go off to college.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?
I'm your and that's it, whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm yours and that's it, forever."

You're mine and that's it, forever.

In the words of William Wallace....

FREEEEDOM!!!!!

I passed my license test. I am unbelievably happy right now. The whole process was rather hilarious, actually - I made some silly blunders at first, namely when I tried to reverse the car before the engine was on. (sigh.) I thought I was a goner for sure, but after the initial silliness I did pretty darn well. The lady I got was pretty chill and super nice. In fact when we pulled back into the lot after 20 minutes of driving around, and after she had gone over the 3 errors I made (how many are you allowed to make? Like 15?), she said, "One last comment - I love your haircut. I've been thinking about getting my hair cut short, yadayadayada...." :)

Dad and I went promptly to McDonalds and got me a fudge sundae, and now I plan on being completely lazy all day. This week pretty much fried my brain... but I guess it all turned out alright. I can drive. I CAN DRIVE.

Children! Beware the baobabs!

This is a mean, mean week. And today it got even meaner. All week long I've been going back and forth between feeling genuinely swamped in self-pity and being purposely over-dramatic about it so as to make fun of myself. But this has simply resulted in my being confused, moody, and generally unimpressed with the occurrences of the week. The other day I found myself sitting between piles of math books, notebooks, calculators and tabs of my online homework, holding a bag of potato chips and telling my mother: "I'm going to hide in a hole this week. That hole - that goes through to the rafters. I'll stay there until Friday morning and not come out before. And I will only take this bag of potato chips with me. That's all."

Today was our second math test and I feel like I just may have flunked that one, too. Correction: I didn't flunk the other test, but nearly. Besides, today I came to the stunning realization that my standards have been seriously compromised this semester. I actually found myself telling Caleb as we walked into class, "A B would be really nice." Months ago, I was sent into depression at the idea of a B. sigh. I think what's really gotten me about this test is that I studied. HARD. I was so ignorant about math for the first test that I couldn't really feel stressed about it. This one, though - man. I've been working so hard to get it, and the second the paper was handed to me today, it all went out of my head. Perseverance is supposed to pay off! That's what they tell us, anyway. But I guess, as with most rules, there are always those darned exceptions.

Yesterday in speech we had our debate lecture - the next three weeks will be dedicated to debate, and our resolution is that the US should ban all oil drilling. Our class picked the negative side, which is good. The bad news is that my job is to research BP and other oil companies, which is not terribly exciting. Anyway - I was sitting in class yesterday as we had a mock debate and all the memories from debate camp came back, and suddenly I was my scared little 12 year old self again. It's strange how nervous I get about that. I obviously don't mind performing in front of people, but debate is just... agh. There's no script there. Anyway, so that was speech (terrifying), and from there we picked up Amelia and went home. Caleb came over and the three of us studied until 4 or 5, and after they went home I studied again until 9 or 10. I also had to take a psychology test online. (Thankfully that went well... an A, and I didn't even read the whole chapter. That's irony for you.)

Then there was today. Gag. Math test (fail), art appreciation (zzzzz), and then I couldn't get a hold of Dad when I got out of class... I called him like 15 times and he didn't answer, so I (being my mother's daughter) assumed that he was lying dead somewhere, and sat on the grass by the LRC after a half hour search. Turns out he'd left his phone in the car. I finally found him on my second round of the campus at 2:30. After that I drove us home, and didn't get us killed, which was nice.

Finally, there's tomorrow. I can't actually describe how nervous I am about tomorrow. I'm taking my license test at 11:40. I know people say it's no big deal if you don't pass the first time, but I actually do HAVE to. My permit expires that week, so it's either now or I wait until I'm 18 to try again. It's only 6 months but that's 6 months of my dad driving me to school every day on the time he can't afford to lose. So if you happen to read this before September 30th at 11:40, would you mind praying for me?

A drivers license would pretty much make this whole week worth it. I'm tired of feeling beat up by weekdays.

Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond

Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near.

Your slightest look easily will unclose me,
though I have closed myself as fingers.
You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose.

Or if you wish to be close to me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing.

(I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; Only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.)
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

-E.E. Cummings

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.

I'm listening to "My Favorite Things" right now and thinking of our last night in Prague. Shortly after dinner the sky started flashing with lightning, and then came the rain, and hail the size of golf balls. The six of us girls were up in our room on the third floor, sitting on our beds (or my bed mostly, as it always happened) talking about your typical girl topic: Our Ideal Guy. There were two windows in our room and we could see (and hear) the crazy storm outside. After a half hour or so there was a knock on the door, and we told whoever it was that they could come in. The guys then opened the door and burst in, with David saying, "Alright, alright - my turn! 6'2", ALL MUSCLE."

They sat on our floor and we changed topics to our favorite moments of the trip. It was then that one of the guys noticed a leak in the roof, just next to my bed. We got a bucket and set it on the floor to catch the water. Within fifteen minutes, there were two more leaks in the roof, so we got two more buckets. We sat together in the room with blankets and chocolate, watching the lightning and hail and listening to thunder and the sound the water made as it fell from the ceiling into our plastic buckets. And soon, our favorite moments of our voyage with Team Praha had turned into a round of "My Favorite Things". Out of all the favorite moments we'd talked about, that night may have taken the cake.

We've been home for over a month, I realized today. It doesn't feel strange anymore, though home is different. I watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" a few weeks ago (and I did like it - I'm sorry if that breaks some rule of good taste) and it rather reminded me of the feeling. "It's a funny thing about comin' home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. ["Did I ever tell you I was struck by lightning 7 times?"] You'll realize what's changed is you."

I just can't wait to go traveling again.

Human kindness is overflowing...

And I think it's going to rain today.

What a sad, sad song. But I didn't actually realize how sad it was until I looked up the lyrics. It's just so lovely to listen to. I just read my sister's blog and discovered that it's the first day of fall. Happy fall! Now I can wear scarves and not have to bother with people asking why I'm wearing them. I'm also looking forward to that extra hour of sleep we get one of these Saturdays... whenever that is. Fall-time just reminds me of the opening sequence in You've Got Mail, which pretty much makes me ridiculously cheery. ("Don't you just love New York in the fall?" And the bit about the butterfly on the subway. Gah.) I wish that I could be Meg Ryan in that movie. Actually, ideally, I would be Julie Andrews. They both have their adorably quirky moments and ways of saying things that make every girl want to imitate them. Of course there ARE those weird girls who don't like Meg Ryan, which I don't get. I've not met anyone who doesn't like Julie Andrews, but if I did, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions.

I've got to be tottering off to school soon. First I need breakfast. Today's math and art appreciation, and tomorrow I have an oral interp in speech. We're supposed to read a passage from any book and talk about it. I'm reading The Little Prince. :)

Also, this made me happy.

Me (to Kate):
Vieww hallooooo, my hideous primate. ("Oh yes, definitely, ah, view-halloo!") I miss you and I never called you back. This is a shame on my part. I really should call you back. I will soon and we will have talks. Perhaps I will get a coffee at the harbor and walk about while on the phone with you, and pretend you're walking with me, just like old times. Except to make it fully like old times, I'll also have to throw my coffee on the ground and pretend that you dropped it. It sounds promising already.
How is school, heinous? Things here are hideous. But we survive. Tis what we do.

Kate:
Heinous, your note makes me outrageous. I miss you a ton. I am sorry you are teething but these things happen. Fear not, I will be there soon to drop your coffee for you. I love you so much. Sneer at Suki for me.
Ps. We conquer. It's more humble to say we survive, but to people who know how much strength it sometimes takes to do so with grace--it can be viewed as a victory.
I hope to see you this weekend, precious

I was following the pack all swallowed in their coats.

I know it's not fall yet, and I also know that it doesn't ever really become fall in Southern California. But by golly, I'm listening to Fleet Foxes. I wish we had more ash trees around here, because they're the only sign we have of autumn around here. On the way to school this morning I drove down a street that was lined with them, and they've already turned red and brown and gold. It was beautiful - but of course, an odd contrast with the palm trees that stood right next behind them.

I've been wanting to write a lot more recently, but somehow all that I can think of are short stories that end up depressing me. I can't think of a good storyline that will go more than two or three pages. I suppose real writers have that problem too... but real writers either know a way to get over it, or else are good enough at bs-ing so that no one can tell the difference. I suppose that a good writer shouldn't settle for bs-ing at all, but that secret is between a writer and his craft. We shall never know. Unless I one day become an accomplished writer. Then I'll find out and let you know. Maybe.

Monday's are so horribly long. This morning I was pretty much dead when my alarm went off, even though it went off at 8, which is much later than usual. I really do have a condition - I go through the day yawning and knowing that, if I sit somewhere long enough, I could fall asleep inside of five minutes. But then, come 9:00 PM, I'm full of energy and decide that since I'm so awake, sleep would be a silly thing. The next morning the process starts all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Siiigh. In any case, the point is that Mondays are long. I have college algebra, and after about an hour in that class my brain shuts off, so I murder my hand taking ridiculous notes so that I can study what he said at home because there's no way I'm getting it all right now. From there I hop across town to my art appreciation class, which is pretty much the most boring way possible to study what should be a very interesting thing. I like art. In fact I love art. But this class is doing nothing for my appreciation of it. And from there, I hop across yet another part of town and enter mime 20 minutes late, and stay until 5:00... at which time I go home and change into my baggy, cut-up Beatles shirt and drink coffee until dinner, trying to nurse my aching brain.

Speaking of mime, today was our second day. I realize that I made it sound exhausting just now, but it's not - in fact, it's probably the part of the day (aside from late at night) when I feel the most energized. It's really quite fun. Today I got to be a juror (in the Courtroom of 'Forever'), and THEN in another song, I was a schizophrenic (meaning I had multiple parts, not a medically prescribed schizophrenic): I was a creepy witchcraft crystal-ball girl/cutter, and from there became one of the two guards who crucifies Jesus. It seems that in plays I'm always cast as the ditzy/funny/sweet person, so it was nice to do something more 'serious'. Mom told me afterward that I would make a good demon. I try not to think that much into that...

I'm bored out of my mind, incidentally. I feel like I need to do something right now, but doing something would mean (if I were a good person) doing homework. And I'm not really alert enough to do that. Last night, for example, I took out my psychology book and started reading. Soon I heard the telephone ringing and realized that after reading 4 pages, I'd dozed off and been asleep for a full half hour.

I want to redecorate my room. The only trouble is that I love my room. I just have this itch to do something creative on a big scale, and my room is the most accessible. This is a frustration. Maybe I should just paint my closet, or the cat, or something...

Alright. Either a nap or more coffee is in order. Maybe I'll give Amelia a call. I've no excuse to feel bored or be lazy. But gosh darnit I'm going to.

Aaaaah.

I don't want to go to school. Ever.
Somebody take me to Russia.

But you are such a pleasant fiction to me.

I've realized recently that I think I'm more prone to depression than the average person. This isn't because I'm feeling moody or depressed at the moment - in fact I feel fine - but for a while now I've been noticing how increasingly moody I get, sometimes for no reason at all. Then when I DO have reason, it's much worse. Lately I've had to make a lot of decisions (and still have yet to make some) that have been stressing me out. Not to mention the thought of potentially failing math class is a bit terrifying. When I have too many things to do, however, I have a tendency to simply shut down and do nothing at all. This week has been nothing but that feeling, and it gets worse every day. Yesterday I woke up and felt like I could have cried at any given time, just because I had never felt so unmotivated in my life. Then after school, I went to my first day with the mime team, which is mostly full of people I know, including some very good friends. And when I walked in, I was suddenly conscious that my mood had completely changed - and it wasn't because being with people makes me happy, though sometimes it does. It was like I had consciously thrown a switch in my brain, turning "on" the part of me whose goal is to entertain people at any cost, and turning "off" the normal part of me: the part that feels angst and depression and cynicism and all that fun stuff. It was very strange to realize that that's what I do. I suppose everyone does it to an extent, to adapt to various situations... but I'd never realized what exactly it is before. Thinking about it, I also don't know how healthy it is, allowing yourself to be two people and forcing one at a time to just disappear to make room for the other. But I don't know how else to handle it. I was very much an Eeyore-child until the age of 10 or so, but that was grown out of, as it had to be. One can't walk around being gloomy all the time. The thing that disturbs me about my sudden brain-switches is thinking about people like Owen Wilson - the man is hilarious and everyone thinks of him as a comedian, but not all that long ago he attempted suicide. Now, I'm not suicidal, but the point still stands. There's something about that kind of "switch" that's a little unhealthy, I'm sure of it.

It's been tough being the only one of the Mueller-four left here, and it seems like I'm now heading into the era when other people will be leaving, too. I'm due for college in a few semesters (possibly even 1 1/2), and my friends will be leaving soon as well. Probably not as soon... but still, the idea is strange. People have gone and are going off to their own parts of the world, meeting new people and doing new things... I know my turn is coming, and that makes me impatient, but also nervous. It's not the idea of leaving that scares me, it's not knowing exactly where I'll be leaving to. Or worse, not being able to leave at all. I'm sort of slowly going crazy here. I feel like I've got to leave before everyone else leaves - not so I can say I did it first, but because I don't think I can stand being left one more time. Being left behind has always been my biggest insecurity - every major thing that has affected me has stemmed from my fear of being deserted. My siblings going to college, or getting married, a parent getting a second job, even my grandfather dying. It's a strange thing, but I could honestly leave 100 times and be fine. But if I were left 100 times...

It's times like this when I realize why people have boyfriends or girlfriends or fiances or spouses. People need people. Even the stubborn people like me need people. I'm not going to say I'm all alone because I'm not - I've got my family, to whatever extent I get to communicate with them, and I've got a few really good genuine friends. But still. The idea of having someone to take you for coffee and donuts in the middle of the night, or calling you after a test, or just going for a long drive with you for no particular reason, is a very nice idea.

Studying and Seattle and Sickness, oh my.

I want to WRITE, darnit. I came back from Europe thinking that I'd be able to fill books with all the experiences I had. But thinking back on it, it's hard to isolate events enough to put them into individual stories. I tried the other day, and it was terrible. So now I'm depressed with myself as a writer, of course, and I haven't been able to write one decent thing in months. This includes songs - I haven't written a song in goodness knows how long. It's times like this when I start feeling antsy about my future as a writer.

I can't say that I'm depressed these days - I don't think that's it, anyway. I just feel like I'm sort of mindlessly going through the motions of college life at home: I wake up at 7 AM, go to school with my $9 backpack and its' broken zippers, sit in a classroom where nobody (including the teachers, for the most part) cares about what's being said, come home, and then try to force myself to do homework that I don't care about. More often than not, this last part goes for an hour (perhaps a bit more) before it turns into facebooking/reading/writing/anything-that-isn't-school-related. Every day is the same. But I guess that's what your first year or two of college is for: doing the grunt work. Incidentally, I got a pretty bad grade on my math test from last week - actually, the worst grade I've ever gotten. I kind of feel like I got my first bee sting. All the care and caution you put into avoiding it, and then it happens, and even though it hurts like the devil, you're just glad it's come and gone. I've always had A's, and only sometimes B's. Never lower than that before. At this point, I'm just so tired of stressing out over keeping my grades up... aaannnd it's only a month into school. This is a bad sign.

A few days ago while I was doing math, Mom came to me with the financial facts of Seattle Pacific - namely, that it's is ridiculously expensive and doesn't really offer large scholarships. I don't even know much about the school itself, but the thought of going to Seattle has been my happy driving thought for almost a year. When I'm sick of community college, I think of wandering about Seattle in a long coat and my red scarf, coffee in hand; perhaps ducking into the bookshop I would haunt and reading Frost or Eliot on a corduroy couch. When Mom told me that there isn't really a way we could afford it, I felt like my whole future just crumpled up. I had already had such a long and frustrating day that I actually started crying. Which never happens. Like I said, it's not even that I had my heart set on the school itself... I just need to have something nice to look forward to. I need to be somewhere that I like. I just need to go.

Bahhhh. I'm going to make tea. Curse you, sickness.

Hmm.

So my assignment this week in Art Appreciation is to write a 2-4 page paper, comparing and contrasting 2 works of art. This is all fine and dandy. But then she says to "objectively discuss what attracted [me] to the works" and in general to say what I like about them. How do you objectively talk about your opinions??

I am way into The Eels right now.

"Daisies of the Galaxy"

Take heart, my little friend,
And push back your seat.
Soon we'll be far away,
Far from the street
Where you learned how to be
Not what you are.

Up on the shoulder,
There is a town
With a little motel
And an old movie house.
We'll go to a movie,
Whatever it is.

Watching the movie,
The world's gonna end.
And there ain't a place for
A boy and his friend
To go.

I'll pick some daisies
From the flower bed
Of the galaxy theater
While you clear your head.
I thought some daisies
Might cheer you up.

Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice.

By the way, that IS a creepy song - meaning Hotel California, obviously. My goals today don't include writing analyses of songs, but it happens to be playing on Pandora (which is a wonderful place - did you know, by the way, that they DON'T HAVE PANDORA in Europe?? This is a disgrace.). Aaaanyway. I do think it's odd how uppity people get over music of the classic rock era. I mean when they aren't taking extreme-extremist views, they do often have good points - my father, for example, is a very intelligent man and (though he often does read too much into things) he is almost always right. This is a common topic in our household, regarding my Beatles-obsession. Though, I think there's a fine line between enjoying listening to good music and allowing it to sway your thoughts and (in some cases...) sanity.

Juuust sayin.

Labor Day Weekend always seems to come out of nowhere, and then it disappears in the same fashion. It always struck me as a little odd that we have a holiday so near to the beginning of the semester - but now that I have harder classes, I appreciate it more than words can say. Good old Labor Day. What is it even for, anyway? I mean we get an extra day to lounge around, so that's nice... but actually, I can't remember doing anything over the 3-day weekend, except yesterday. Yesterday was lovely, by the way. The whole family gathered at Papa and Ami's, which is always a fantastically good time. Then before everyone (meaning Beth, Jesse, Kate, Jon and Megan) headed back to wherever they are these days, we came home and watched Casino Royale.

Aside from that, though, I really didn't do much. I spent the days following Wednesday trying to get my mind to accept the fact that it's alright not to get an A on a math test. I find out what grade I DID get on the test tomorrow, and I have to admit I'm pretty nervous about that. Not getting A's has always been a source of trouble for me... never could learn to accept it when it happened. I've always been far too stubborn when it came to school - if I'm not interested in it, I don't try. This is why math and I never got along very well. I know I've got to step it up this semester (if I want to get a passing grade, anyway), but I have such a hard time making myself do things that I hate. Blah.

On the note of boring school, though, I took my psychology test today and got 46/50. So that was nice.

I've also been sick this weekend. I don't even know what it is - it's not a cold because I'm not all stuffed up, but my throat does hurt terribly and I've had a migraine since I woke up yesterday morning. I just hope I can get over it soon, because I can't have another fall like LAST fall - I was sick literally ALL semester long. Colds, bronchitis, pneumonia, you name it, I had it. Except mono. That one I was tested for.

I really need to figure out what I want to do with myself, school-wise, AND life-wise. I want to write, and I want to travel. That's all I know. I just need to: a) figure out how to make those things possible and b) figure out how I'd pay for that. Rotten old money. I wish I could just be like Bert in Mary Poppins, and have a different profession every day, and just travel around that way. "What did I tell ya? There's the whole world at your feet. And who gets to see it but the birds, the stars, and the chimney sweeps."

Well. I should probably get my head out of the clouds and start doing the boring things that boring adults think are important. We'll humor them for now. S'long.

Two of us wearing raincoats, standing solo in the sun.

Well, we're heading into the long weekend. It's Thursday and I am SO HAPPY - happy to see the past three days behind me, happy that I got to spend so much time with my best friend today, and happy because I know that even though things are tough, God is sufficient. It's nice to stop and remember that once in a while.

The math test yesterday really went badly. I'm hoping I got enough partial-credit to pass, but I am expecting a C or a D. Caleb says he felt the same way about it. I mean, I studied really really hard for that test, but I kind of feel like I studied the wrong things. In any case, there wasn't anything else I could do about it, so I did my best. At least I can feel satisfied in that. And hopefully, I'll magically improve in math in the next few weeks, and do better on the tests to come.

Today has been a full day. I had speech class early this morning, and afterward I went to the library and read for a while. Then I walked to Snappers and met Amelia there, and had my long-awaited grilled steak taco, chips, and special 'shack sauce' (with a child's soda, of course). We then walked the distance to Starbucks, and sat for an hour talking about pretty much everything. At this point, Mrs. Gutierrez picked us up and dropped me off again at school - Hanna had asked if she could use my face for her stage-makeup class. So I got all made-up, talked with the girls for a while, wiped said makeup OFF, and walked back to Amelia's house (where I stayed until 7:00). I love being at the Gutierrez's because - well, it's pretty much been my second home since I started at VC - but mostly because my house gets so quiet, that it's nice to go and be in a louder family environment. Seems more homey, at any rate.

Mom and I are the only ones home at the present, and she's feeling a little down because of situations with Ami. It's been really hard for her, being away from home so much to be over there, and now it's especially hard since we're trying to find someone to live with Ami. Right now it's kind of at a stand-still - either we find Ami someone that she'll actually accept, or she moves in with us. The latter idea would solve everything, but the actual act of moving her would be reeeaallly difficult. I forget how much Ami still grieves over Papa, because I don't see her every day - but when I do see her, it always makes me feel sad all over again.

On that subject, random things remind me of Papa every few days... you'd think that, after thinking of something so much, that it would stop being painful after a while. But it doesn't, really. In Prague, I spent a Saturday wandering around with four of my friends in the rain - it was the most perfect day ever. But at one point we stepped into a toy-store, just to get warm. I'd been buying souvenirs for my family members over the course of the week, and as I was wandering around the shop I saw a shelf full of wooden biplanes and motorcycles, and I picked a plane up and thought, "I should buy this for Papa." Eight months and I still forget. It's like I've got this part of me that got injured and exposed, and every time I think about it, it's like a needle pricks the skin, right where it was starting to heal. Last night I had a dream (that was really more of a memory) about the day he died. Things like that really disturb me and I don't know how to get rid of them.

Wow - I didn't really mean to go into all of that... and this started out so painfully cheerful. Hmph. Oh well - I think I'll go brew myself a pot of coffee, eat some ice cream, and make another collage. I've been making a lot of collages lately - I cut up all of our Better Homes magazines. I've also noticed that I must really like lamps and clocks, because I'll cut out pictures and then go through them, only to find that half of them are all lamps and clocks! I guess it lends a certain sense of familiarity to my collages, anyway. So bye for now.

Any day now, any day now, I shall be released.

Wishful thinking, Bob. 3 weeks down - 14.5 to go.

I finished my psychology homework last night around 10, and gave my speech in class today. (Went pretty awfully, by the way, but this particular speech was graded on an "all or nothing" scale - so if we stand up and talk, we get an A. So that's nice.). The only thing left to stress over is my math test tomorrow. I'm not trying to be negative, but I really am expecting to get into class tomorrow and have no idea where to start on the problems presented. The professor hasn't really taught us anything - he presents it like it's all review. It probably is review, for those students who have done all the math classes you're supposed to do before college algebra... but I got signed off early from the math program I was in last semester, which means I'm at least one semester behind everyone else. And reading the textbook doesn't really help that much anyway, because it's basically a foreign language (at least to me). Soo... yeah. I'm waiting for Dad to get off my computer (my math program is on there) and then I figure I've got a good 12 hours to try to figure it out. Today will be fun.

My happy thought is that this is the last math class I will ever have to take. (That is, unless I fail it. But we'll try not to think about that.)

You know something ridiculous? Kate's home before school starts for her next week, and she's been sleeping in to all kinds of ridiculous hours. She's asleep now, and I'm incredibly jealous. In fact I'm thinking of going and waking her up just to spite her. It's not fair that she has nothing to do when I'm dying under a load of evil textbooks... buuuuut such is life.

If you think to, say a prayer for me tomorrow between 11 and 12:15. I need to pass this class but the odds aren't really in my favor. So... prayers for success would be nice.