The Time Has Come, the Walrus said.

Well, this is it. I'm leaving in 6 and a half hours, so that I can head to LAX in twelve hours, so that I can head to Heathrow in 27 hours, so that I can be in Prague in 30 hours... give or take a few. Today was an odd mix of hyperventilating about packing to the point that I nearly cried in a Payless store, to feeling perfectly peaceful and nostalgic as I ate cake and coffee and sat between my siblings. They wrote notes to sneak into my suitcase, while Dad and I went to church to photocopy some worksheets (for the English classes I'll be teaching) and look up at the moon as it appears from So. Cal... and while I finished packing, towards nine or ten, Mom came up with me and sat on my bed. She told me she is proud of me and knows that I always step up to the plate when I need to... which is exactly what I needed to hear. Parents are lovely people for believing in us when we don't believe in ourselves.

The excitement of the trip is hitting me now... now that I need to be sleeping, before I wake up at five. But with the excitement comes the knowledge that I've never done this before; that I have some incredible responsibilities on this trip and that I KNOW I can't handle them alone. But throughout today, in my more sane moments, I have been reminded that God wouldn't have put me here if he didn't plan on helping me through it. And that's a comforting thought.

Well, the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of other things - of shoes and ships, and ceiling wax, and cabbages and kings....

And while life here in California moves on, I will move on, too. Hope you have a good month, and I'll be back here writing ridiculous things sometime in August. Please remember to pray for me, and the team, and the whole shebang out in the Czech Republic.

Na shledanou!

Dodgers, Giraffes, and Journey.

I wonder how people stay excited about food for the 80 (or whatever the normal lifespan is) years that they're alive. Mom's finally given up asking me what I feel like eating for dinner because I never feel like eating anything. Unless it's 10 or 11 at night, at which time I really want to eat something fatty, like spaghetti or cheesecake. (Both of which we happen to have right now. And I'm not eating. WHY?!) I just get tired of food. The idea is almost always nice, but the act... only sometimes. People say you tend to eat more when you're tired, but I disagree. I am always tired; and I only feel like eating when I'm happy and energetic. Otherwise I just drink coffee. It's a good thing coffee isn't alcoholic or anything, because then I suppose I'd have a problem. As it is, they're saying now that coffee gives you more benefits than anything, such as a better memory. Of course, some people think that sitting on cold cement gives you hemorrhoids.

Anyway, today is Tuesday, which means I have less than three full days at home. I still have things to buy and lessons to plan. But I'm working on some part of 'getting ready' every day so I suppose that's the best I can do. Today, for example, I went and got shot three times by a nurse who looked suspiciously like our director in Pirates of Penzance. That was startling. Also, those shots HURT! That nasty woman... (she really is probably a nice person - at any rate, she likes animals. An entire wall of her office was full of pictures of giraffes, and there were little porcelain giraffes on her desk. I don't know if that makes her a nice person or not. Actually I think that makes her more suspicious.) She tried to distract me by asking me about my trip, and nodded very nicely while I was answering, "Well I'm going around the Czech Republic... we're also spending a week hiking, in SloVAK-" At this point she stabbed me and mom said my face actually turned white. "...ia..."

I learned to distrust people with needles at an early age. But now I'll be extra careful with needle-wielding giraffe-lovers.

Last night Dad and I went to see the Dodgers, which was fanTAStic. I'm normally extremely claustrophobic around crowds but this particular crowd behaved itself pretty well, and it's so fun being in a community like that - we're all in this together and all of that. Also, ahem, Michael Johns sang the national anthem. Kate will be extremely jealous... heh heh. What an attractive Australian. (Johns, not Kate.) It's so fun doing the wave, and cheering or boo-ing with the crowd (especially knowing WHEN to cheer and boo - I pride myself now that I know the game of baseball well.)... oh, and singing "Take me out to the ball game". Although I think my favorite part was the fellow sitting next to us. The ol' Dodgers were pretty awful last night, they ended up losing to the Giants 2-5, but of course the crowd was being loyal. The guy next to us, however, was a bit bipolar. He'd had a few of those beers in plastic cups by the time 7th inning came around, and went from singing "Do-oooon't stop, belieeeeeeeeevin'!" at the Dodgers to shouting, "C'mon! I'm inebriated and I saw that coming!" Gotta love those fans...

In short, I like baseball. If I were a guy, that would be my sport. Sadly girls don't play baseball. Why IS that?

Anywho. I'm going to eat lunch now. I'm going to take advantage of one of the few times today that food will sound appealing, and then I'm going to finish up some craft samples. And try not to think too hard about the giraffe nurse and her needles...

THREE days. And a half.

A few nights ago I had a dream that I came back from Prague on Monday the 16th as planned, and went to school on Tuesday the 17th, also as planned... but at the college, ALL of the buildings had been moved. I wandered around with a campus map (which I've never had to use before), asking people where things were, and of course no one understood me. So I'm running from building to building, through strange hallways and courtyards and across an empty stage (with a blue piano - not sure of the symbolism there) and before I know it, it's 6 o'clock and all the classes are over. The dream ended with me standing there in the middle of an empty, estranged campus, thinking, "Shoot. Now I'll never get my transfer credits."

My remaining days at home will go something like this:

Monday (today):
-Make millions of punch-outs of things like stars and hearts for the Czech VBS until my hands are blistered and dead. (Check.)
-Listen to Czech language cd's while Dad and I drive to LA.
-Watch my very first Dodgers game :)

Tuesday:
-Get shot by doctors in preparation for my trip. *shudder*
-Plan more English lessons.
-Buy the remaining things on my list... and find a suitcase large enough to fit it all.
-A hop, skip and a jump across Crocodile Creek and then north by northeast to the Mitchell's.

Wednesday:
-1776. 'Nuff said.

Thursday:
-Ideally a coffee with the girls in the morning.
-Pack!!!!
-Know exactly what I'm going to say for every lesson I am teaching. (We'll see how that goes...)
-Sit around with my lovely family who will mourn my absence, and then proceed to set up the Peter O'Toole portrait in my room. Traditions must be kept, and anyway, Jon and Kate must have someone to say "hello" to when their feet wander them into my room. :)

Friday:
To quote the Beatles, Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee as a bird.

A week.

I'm leaving in a week! I'm sure the full effect of that still hasn't hit me. In fact there's this nasty cynic inside of me who never lets me get excited about anything until the day before, or even the day of. But this time I'm trying to ignore her: I'm leaving in a week. One week, and I will be driving to LAX at this very moment. I will pray for a window seat and watch every inch of America, the Atlantic, and the lights of Europe's biggest cities as we fly over it through the night. There's still so much to do - I haven't even made a dent in my 'things I need to buy' list, and I still need to study up for the English lessons I'll be teaching. BUT. I'm leaving in a week.

Just in time, too, I think. Though I'm far from ready to come back and start school, I AM tiring a little of certain people and things. It's hitting me recently that life is all very strange. I mean I always knew that; but I feel like I've spent 17 years preparing myself for problems and mindsets that are, as it turns out, totally irrelevant. There's no training course or self-help book for the things that life actually throws at you. Which stinks. I suppose we'll all get through, though... anyway, people have been doing it for years. It mostly makes me wonder what I'll be like NEXT year... last year, I would have thought that this-year's life was pretty strange.

Head full of doubt, road full of promise.

I'm tired. Somehow, suddenly, everything feels extremely tired. Maybe it's because I just realized I'm leaving in 10 days, and still have so much to do... and to buy... and to practice... And maybe it's because I know that, the day after I fly back into LAX, college life begins. Maybe it's because, when I think about it, I realize that's really all that will be happening for the next four years. And sometimes, when I think about it more, it feels like life shouldn't go on at the same pragmatic pace day after day and year after year. I wish there was something I could do to just pause life: for me, but mostly for my parents. They need a break. I wish there was something I could do to just make all our problems go away.

Also, people are silly. But we knew that.

Mom and I watched "Up" a few nights ago. Now, I often cry in movies, but I've never actually felt the tears quite as much as I did during that movie. By far the best Pixar movie to date; at the very least, the most poetic. And it seemed so personal, like the writers had meant it specifically for individuals who had recently lost people they loved. I don't know how to say it better than that it handled the ordeal of 'letting go' more beautifully than any movie I've seen. Neither of us said it but I knew that Mom and I were both thinking of Papa throughout.

I don't like this business of growing up. And the older I get, the more I realize that I don't even know what 'growing up' means, much less how to do it. I always assumed that one day I'd just wake up and be "old enough" to understand... but now I'm beginning to think that growing up is a matter of faking it until you believe it.

Well that was fun...

Just had a nice little adventure. Mom and Dad are gone so I climbed out Jon's window and went on the roof (seems like the thing to do when you're home alone, I guess...). I've done it before but Dad doesn't like it so I don't do it much; but they're not here, and it's so pleasant up there... facing the ocean, everything bathed in that nice golden light before sunset.... the only trouble was, this time, I closed the window. And there's no handle on the OUTSIDE.

Yeah.

So I'm sitting there, trying to open the window, thinking, "Shoot. I'm going to have to listen for the van and then start yelling when they get out because once they get in the house, they won't hear me... and then they won't see me inside so they'll think I got kidnapped... and then they'll call the police..." You see, I learned at an early age the frantic thinking of Mueller women. It's really quite an art. Then, to make matters worse, every dog in the neighborhood started barking and howling at me. It occurred to me then that all it would take is one neighbor to look out the window and see an 'intruder' trying to open somebody's window, and I'd be done-for. Just as my nerves and the barking were hitting a singular peak, I managed to slide the window open and I jumped through it with amazing speed and accuracy. I'm still not sure whether anyone saw me or not, but no coppers have shown up, so I figure it must be alright. I'm a little annoyed at the stupid dogs, but on second thought, I'd be kind of glad for them if there really WERE an intruder coming through my brother's window. (A side note - I have just realized that, while every OTHER dog noticed me, my own dog slept. Thanks Alfie, you're such a good guard dog.)

Anyway, I'm back inside now with only a bit of dust on my jacket. And the best part is that I don't have to ask Dad or Mom to help me get off the roof that they don't want me climbing.

sigh.

How do I get myself into these situations?

I was drawn into the pack and before long, they allowed me to join in and sing their song.

Kate and Katrina are going to a Paul McCartney concert tonight. I'm sitting here trying not to be bitterly jealous. Well, the man is magic and somehow I believe that he won't go and die before I've had a chance to see him... if I just jinxed you, Paul, I am very sorry...

There was a dance last night, the only one that I'll be able to go to this summer. I could have gone to the one after the graduation but I was busily eating Chinese food with Kate and watching Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, which, by the way, is a PRECIOUS movie. Mostly Lee Pace is precious. I still plan on marrying that man... somehow. We'll figure it out. ANYWAY - the dance. There are a lot of youngsters there nowadays, which is odd. All my friends little brothers and sisters. I suppose I was one of these youngsters once, but I always felt a lot older, anyhow... maybe it's the tall thing. People always assume that tall children are older. Amelia didn't want to go last night so she didn't, which was sad - we like to have each other around at social gatherings. We're mostly inseparable that way - except when dances are concerned, I guess. Every once in a while it's nice to hold your own, though, so it works out. Last night was mostly fun - though, between the fun, it gets kind of boring sitting there on a bench talking with other girls who didn't get asked or else couldn't catch a guy for a sadie hawkins. Though I DID wear a hole in my shoe (literally, a hole all the way through my shoe... which is sad, as they were my favorite flats) so I guess that means I did my fair share of dancing.

I also talked with some people about The Dining Room. The ball is rolling. :)

Lately Mom's been saying a bunch of things about money issues. She's been antsy about making sure that I get enough for Prague all along, but now it's that AND a lot of other things. The other day she made some comment about how this next year might be the only year that I can afford to stay home, which means that I would be transferring (somewhere...) right after graduation. Like next year. I told her that the plan was VC for another two years, and she just shrugged. I don't really know what that means.

Anyway. The plan for today is to finish up some crafts for the Czech VBS camps as well as listening to much music and/or Czech language cd's. I'm also going to Walmart at some point. Then to my grandmother's to ask if I can borrow some money for the trip.... I've realized that I'm the youngest Mueller to do a lot of things. Most of my siblings picked up THAT habit in college.

My cat just jumped on my lap and almost knocked over my coffee. Stupid cat...

All we can do is keep breathing.

I've got a huge knot in my right shoulder from bending over this stupid computer all day. I think my generation will all have this problem sooner or later, because I've talked to quite a few who already do. It wouldn't be so bad, if I had a live-in masseuse (or masseur...) or something. But alas, there are none to be found in this particular area of the city. Sad.

Anyway. Despite some mildly ridiculous things, today was alright. I get in a funk every once in a while and it takes some serious brain power (and non-depressing music) to get out of it again. Not quite out yet, but I will be.

I registered as a college student today, which makes me the youngest Mueller to do so. Pretty nifty. (That also probably makes me the first Mueller to use the word "nifty"). I now have 13.5 units at the college, 2 classes at Groups, aaaaaand.... yeah, I think that's it. Although next semester, as you may remember, I hope to do The Dining Room, which will take quite a bit of time. I'm also hoping to join mime (they've been after me for years, I figure it's time I indulge them... plus that makeup looks so fun.). So next semester, beginning the day after I fly back into LAX, will be pretty crazy.

Here's to the merry-go-round, kids.