We are desperate, lonely, and underpaid.

[That is from a song. It's not me being pathetically pessimistic. Not at this hour, anyway.]

I have been eating spaghetti leftovers all week long. We always have spaghetti on Sunday, and I usually eat it for a few days afterward... but it seems like we've been having leftovers for a few weeks straight now. Which is weird... you'd think that to have leftovers, you'd need to be making food to begin with. Not so. Ever since Mom decided to eat healthier (she also exercises in the mornings. crazy woman.), she's been making her own meals of salad and vegetables, leaving me and Dad to fend for ourselves. I don't mean to say she's neglectful. She would share if we wanted her vegetables. But my father and I are stubborn and stuck in our carb-influenced ways and would sooner starve or get by on whatever scraps we happen to have around. And this we have been doing. It's been going alright, but I came home from school just now and would kill for a burrito. Actually I don't like burritos. Tacos are good, or better yet a taco salad. Apparently it's bad form to crunch up your taco and make taco salad. But I don't understand how to eat tacos, the way they're given to you. If God had intended us to eat a taco without inconvenience, he would have put our mouths vertically and on the sides of our heads.

This has been a strange week. Thinking back on it, nothing really terrible happened, but it was somehow difficult to get through. Seemingly impossible, at times. I suppose I had what Holly Golightly would call the mean reds. "The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of." All week - yesterday especially - I was slightly panicked whenever I thought about having to go somewhere. Which is bad for me nowadays, considering the fact that I'm always going somewhere. I was talking to Amelia the other night, and I can't remember exactly what it was about, but it was one of those discussions of ours that takes place almost entirely in analogies and often has two or three meanings. I think it may have been on the subject of happiness and "being" where you are. (Only I don't believe either of us used cliches like that.) She said that there are some people who are good at "being there". I found myself saying that that is too bad, because I'm almost always someplace else.

It's an age of extremes. I'm either driving myself crazy because I feel trapped or else I'm terrified of stepping out of the front door. The former is more frequent, but the latter is more disturbing. It's probably a good thing that I'm forced to go as many places as I am, even the places that I don't like. Otherwise I might just turn into a shut-in and be driven insane by cabin-fever but powerless to do anything about it. That is probably the worst fate I can think of.

My head's been in a weird place these days, too. [Not literally, I hope, although it depends on where I am, I suppose.] You know that feeling you get when you've been daydreaming and you suddenly snap out of it? It never takes long to recover, but in that instant, you take in your surroundings and make sense of them to remind yourself of where you are and what you're doing. Your mind does all of this in less than a second, but if you're especially deep in your distraction, you can catch some of the questions that your brain is working to answer. This happens to me when I wake up sometimes. Once, a week or two ago, I actually woke up as I was sitting up and asking myself (out loud), "What day is it?" Which was a little concerning. ANYWAY. There's that sense of snapping out of something and coming to an acute (though brief) acknowledgment of confusion. This has been happening to me constantly throughout the past few days, and not even when I've been daydreaming. Simple things, things that I have known for a long time, are suddenly becoming complex concepts that I feel like I have thought about, but never fully understood. How is it that I made it to seventeen, and am just now wondering what makes the moon glow? Or how languages develop? Or how people discovered that talking could turn into singing? It's like the trailers for that movie, "Limitless", where the guy says that people only have access to 20% of their brains. I feel like perhaps I only ever had access to 20% of my questions. And now somehow I've got access to them all and I can't stop them coming, and I can't answer them, either. Which is annoying, but not entirely bad. If we had all the answers we'd stop asking questions.

I switched out my sad songs CD in Peter's stereo last night and put in Johnny Cash. Sometimes he can be annoying but I'd say that I genuinely love about half the songs on the CD; the ones that aren't completely bouncy and annoyingly countryish. I've noticed that my mood phases usually last about as long as I keep a CD in that stereo, so I'm calling an official end to the mean reds, as of last night. It's the Cash Era now, whatever that means. I will not be driving a truck or wearing a cowboy hat any time soon. But maybe I'll be better at "being there".

Mom just came home and said, "Hi, my Laura. We'll have tacos tonight, if you help me." I love it when people unknowingly make your day.

Gracious.

I had to wake up at 6 today and worked until 11, navigating around the county on one cup of coffee. (Not a good idea, by the way.) I got home a little after 11 this morning, said hi to Dad, told him I was going to bed, and then woke up at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Now it's after 4 and I'm having my second cup of coffee, and about to make pancakes. Something tells me I won't be sleeping much tonight, either.

I held so many people in my suitcase heart.

We had another history exam last night, and it was ridiculously easy. That is, until I was talking to Amelia afterward and we realized how tricky Pendleton was about it. Every question was designed specifically to trip us up - a true/false question, for example, would be true except for one sneakily-crafted word that made the whole thing false. Most of them I caught, but there were a few that Amelia and I talked about afterward that one of us hadn't noticed the trick in and had therefore gotten it wrong. He was so proud of himself for it, too - he kept pacing the aisles during the quiz and saying, "I'm not gonna tell you which one, but be careful about one of those true or false questions.... look at the date, people... oh I'm mean." And then he would chuckle mischievously. Well, even with a few stupid mistakes, I'm pretty confident that I got an A. Darn that endearing man and his sneaky tricks, though.

We went to Starbucks afterward and sat and talked for a few hours... went back to Amelia's house and made nachos, y'know, the usual stuff. I got home at about 11:30 and when I walked through the door, Dad and Mom started chewing me out. "Not acceptable," is what Dad says, while Mom is a little more intent on guilting me: "I was about to call the police!" I say 'chewing out' but it wasn't really... I guess I should have let them know I'd be home later. It's just that I've been out late every night of the semester, it seems like - in fact, I'm gone all the time. Usually it's fine but then sometimes they randomly decide to get upset about it, and it catches me off-guard. I understand that I'm the baby and all that... but I'm on my own pretty much all the time. Twenty or thirty minutes past a curfew (which was never a vocalized rule, anyway) shouldn't be a big deal.

Okay. Teen-rant done.

I've been kind of sick this week, and then Friday at rehearsal I completely lost my voice. As in, completely gone. Saturday I had no voice whatsoever and Sunday wasn't much better, unless I found the right pitch and volume to talk at. It was amusing... but rather frustrating, alternating between squeaking and rasping things at people. I spent Sunday with the Mitchells, and we went to see some friends of ours in Thoroughly Modern Millie. (Which was really fun, by the way - but I don't believe I'll ever accept anyone other than Julie Andrews as the part.) I used to live for having people over to my house, but over the past year or two I've gotten very used to feeling at home in the houses of certain friends. The Gutierrez's, especially - since they're so close to school, I pretty much live there during the semester - but also the Mitchells. I suppose when someone teaches me how to use their coffee-maker and where to find everything that coffee-making entails, that is when I know I belong. I feel at home in these places mostly because the people there are close friends, but I think it's also because they're relatively big families who always have things going on in the house. It's always quiet here, and it's rare that there are ever three of us here at a time. Mostly just late at night, but that's when Mom watches the news and Dad falls asleep on the couch. I don't like the news, and anyway, there's nowhere comfortable to sit once Dad's sleeping there. So I wind up writing things late into the night, or else listening to music in my room. I wish it wasn't that way, but it's gone on for so long that I don't know what else we'd do at nights, if not this.

Speaking of night. I've been having trouble sleeping lately - just a lot of things on my mind, I guess - but for the last two nights, the moon has been just outside my window so that I can see it when I'm lying down. Staring at the moon and the clouds that pass by it is a nice way to fall asleep, once you do.

Seeing the sun rise over the mountains when you have to wake up at 6:30 isn't so bad, either.

Strange how hard it rains now.

It's hard to know when to give up the fight;
Some things you want will just never be right.
It's never rained like it has tonight before.

Fortune cookie say:

Me: "That's interesting - I've never seen a fortune quite like this. It says EVERYTHING WILL SOON COME YOUR WAY. Everything?"
Dad: "Wow. That's vague."
Me: "Ominous. Everything - joy, true love, mobs of people carrying pitchforks..."
Dad: "A semi-truck, bus, railroad car... haven't I seen Leonardo Dicaprio in something like that lately?"

In truth, the forest hears each sound, each blade of grass as it lies down.

Oh, people. People are funny creatures; I don't understand them. Mostly I can figure them out based on conclusions I've drawn from people previously... but then, most of my conclusions have been drawn about myself, and copied and pasted onto others, as it were. This doesn't really make sense anymore, though; I am a rather unobjective source. It was Atticus, wasn't it, who said that in order to understand a man you had to climb inside of his skin and walk around in it. Strangely enough, that made more sense a few years ago than it does now. I wonder why that is.

Being mythological does wonders for one's ego.

I read Initiation by Sylvia Plath last night, and fell in love. I don't know why, exactly... it's an odd little story, but it was so fun to read because I understood it so well. And it was so humorously bizarre. There was one part, especially, that I underlined and boxed and generally assaulted with my pen...

From that time on, initiations didn't bother Millicent at all. She went gaily about Lewiston Square from store to store asking for broken crackers and mangoes, and she just laughed inside when people stared and then brightened, answering her crazy questions as if she were quite serious and really a person of consequence. So many people were shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them. And really, you didn't have to belong to a club to feel related to other human beings.

I love books. I really do.

I don't love homework, though. Professors seem to be under the delusion that we have nothing to do over spring break, or that we don't need a break at all, or some similarly demented thought. I have three tests this next week, and a big paper due on Tuesday as well. There's no possible way that I can do all that I need to do - and I've been pretty diligent this week about homework, too. It's just that life keeps getting between me and my textbooks - not that I really mind that, but whenever something comes up that takes me away from my homework, a voice in the back of my head goes, "You're screwed." Yes, I know. I know. Go away. (I'm not schizophrenic, I swear...) Did I mention that I have a job? I'm a cabbie. Not officially - I think that would be a bit more exciting, though - I guess I'm more like a hired driver. A lady we've known for my lifetime can't drive herself anymore due to her vision - in fact, she gave me her car when I started driving. Well, anyway, she decided to hire me to drive her places 8 hours a week for the next 4 months, until I go away to Prague in July. (I'm officially on the team, did I mention that?) It's an interesting situation, this job of mine... the pay is ridiculously good, so I'd be stupid not to take it. But it's really tough trying to get homework done in 10-15 minute intervals in parking lots while I'm waiting for her to get her shopping done. She's also incredibly OCD (like, clinically) to the point of micro-managing everything and everyone - and I am now her employee, which means I am micro-managed in pretty much every way. I'm handling myself better than I thought I could, though - but then, it has only been a week. Hopefully I can keep this up. It's not all bad, though - today she had lunch at her pastor's house for 3 hours, during which time I drove around and found a lovely park on the outskirts of town, and sat in a gazebo and read.

Tomorrow is a big day, so I needed to get a lot of homework done. Again, life got in the way. (What is it Lennon said... Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.) I've been sick the last few days, and my head has not really been working properly, which makes reading and making sense of things very difficult to do. I slept right through my alarm for almost two hours this morning. When I woke up, I realized that I had to go and make Ami breakfast because no one else was around to do it. So after a quick shower, I took my morning coffee with me in a thermos and drove off for her house. This is nice, I thought, at least I have fresh coffee with me. Cue: lid falling off the thermos because it was the wrong one, and coffee spilling all over me. Eff. I go to Ami's, make her breakfast, sit and chat for a while, get back in the car, and go to the bank to cash a check and make a withdrawal. I then go to the gas station, and carry out the pumping as usual... that is, until the pump decides to start pumping gas BEFORE the nozzle is in my car's tank. I finally managed to get it in, but had to wipe off the outside of my car afterwards. Not only was the darned gas wasted, but now my jeans smell like gasoline. Anyway. Then I picked up the lady, dropped her off at her pastor's, and read at the park for a few hours. Picked her up just in time to come home in the bulk of late-afternoon traffic, dropped her off, came home, and changed into my sweats and "Ireland football" shirt.

Corned beef has been cooking all day, and Dad says we can have beer, too. So I guess the day wasn't a total waste. ;) I suppose I've got a good 6 hours to study, anyway. I'm just praying that I can keep this flu off... I don't have time to stop and allow myself to be sick. sighh. Life is a funny little thing.

I will close with wisdom from Sylvia...

Just keep a poker face outside. But keep laughing like mad inside.

You know those moments....

that just make you cringe when you think about them? Like when you do something really dumb or embarrassing?

I hate those.

I'll fall from your grace, but I'll never let go of your hand.

It's been such a Tom Waits weekend. I've been listening to him for the past few days, and apparently Jon and Katrina have been, too. Something in the air, I guess.

I'm exhausted. I had a busy week/weekend, and parts of it were really fantastic... but last night I hit a low, probably the lowest I've been in a while, and today I'm just... well, worn out. One thing that made me ridiculously happy, however, is that right before I was about to leave for church, Jon walked through the front door. He was supposed to come last night, but he didn't so I thought he wasn't coming... but he came :) He's going back tonight, but things always feel a little better after I talk to him. Not to sound cliche or anything, but I've found that most of the people I hang out with don't really understand me - not to the extent that I'd like them to, anyway. Well, actually, it's mostly alright... I like that I'm able to keep some things to myself. It just makes it difficult when these things build up, because then I suddenly find myself not knowing what to do about any of it. Even if Jon can't give me an answer to my problems, it helps to have him listen, because I know that I'm a lot like him; he understands me. It's odd, but I feel like there's a sort of gap growing between me and most of my friends; I've been getting the distinct impression that they disapprove of me. Which is strange, because I haven't really changed lately or anything. The more I talk to people my age, the more I hear the same old story about what they want: to stay in Southern California, go to college close to home, be around their family more. Meanwhile, the knowledge that I have to go away or I'll go crazy has been becoming more and more clear in my mind. It's odd how having a different desire than someone else can really put a wedge between you. I know there's nothing wrong with wanting to stay around family and familiar things, but I think I've gotten so tired of hearing it that I've started to resent it. Maybe I resent it just because it's so different than what I want. And the more I hear it, the more I feel like I should agree with it, but I don't. I think that that, maybe, is the reason I feel that people disapprove of what I want; it's like they think I'm careless or ungrateful or something. I don't much care what the general public thinks, but there are some peoples' opinions that do matter to me, and there's been a noticeable shift in those, too. Which is strange and a little disheartening.

Also, The Dining Room. asdrlnalerkalsdfmlkasmrlkwnrrrrrr.

My dog ate rat poison the other day, but Dad talked to our friend the vet and got him to throw up (Alfie, not the vet), and I think all's well now. My coffee is cold; must get more. I'm so glad this week is spring break - I'll be heinously busy pretty much every day, but I'm just so relieved that I don't have to go into class at all. Break came just in time - this past week, I couldn't concentrate on anything in class for more than five minutes. Sad how my brain has turned into mush lately. Speaking of which, I took the SAT yesterday. I think it went alright, although I also think my neck was permanently damaged by how tensely I was bent over that desk for the better part of the day. I was talking to a kid who I vaguely recognized there, during a break, and he said that he was going to re-take the SAT in the fall, regardless of how well he did yesterday. When I asked him why, he said it was so that he would have a perfect score when he applied to Biola. Biola doesn't even look at your SAT score; they never asked for Jon's. It occurred to me then, wow, homeschoolers are dumb. I mean, sure, you want a good grade... but children. We're taking the SAT now. Take it and be DONE with it and be HAPPY ABOUT IT.

sigh.

Last night I went to see Les Miserables, by the theater group we did Pirates with. I had a few friends in the production so a big group of us went last night in support, and it was really fun. I love theater, mostly when I'm in it, but I do like being the cheering squad, too. ;) Except being in the audience always makes me a bit nervous, now that I know how much energy the actors need from us; I feel obligated to clap for EVERYTHING. I remember all too well the low morale we'd have on matinees when the audience was dumb and didn't know when to applaud. I have now determined never to let a cast say, "that was a bad audience" if I am a part of it. This often means that I am the awkward person who begins the applause - sometimes in the wrong places. Ah well... better to be overenthusiastic than otherwise.

Speaking of theater, I went to the Pantages on Friday night and saw Beauty and The Beast with three of my friends. (And as it happened, the four of us had been the leading female roles when we did B&B, two summers ago.) Oh. My. Gosh. I don't think I ever really got why professional theater was such a big deal... I thought money was the only real difference. Ha. No. The sets? Costumes? Singing? Gahhh. It was SO GOOD. Although now I'm even more obsessed, if that is possible, with the idea of doing big-time musicals and such. The sound of hundreds of hands beating together in a real theater is pretty much the best sound in the world.

Oy. I have a lot of homework to do this week. But I'm sleep-deprived and frustrated and not in the best studying mood. My homework will still be here tomorrow... I'll confront it then. In the meantime, I think I will make more coffee and clean my room or collage something.

All wrapped in bones of a setting sun.

Something happened to me last night. For years I've been getting these restless fits, lasting for weeks sometimes, and suddenly last night I figured out what to do about them. I feel sort of like I've just discovered the tangible difference between being an angsty little teenager and... well, an angsty little adult. Not that that sounds much more impressive. But it's something.

Our history class got out at about 8:30 last night, which is earlier than usual. Most Mondays after class, Amelia and I just go back to her house and eat dinner (if we didn't get it before), and/or drink coffee, and hang out until about 11 when I realize that I have to wake up at 6:45 the next day, so I drive home. Right before class last night, though, Amelia mentioned that there is a doughnut shop down the street that's open 24 hours, and we should go there after class. I said this sounded brilliant, so after class got out, we drove the opposite way and got ourselves some doughnuts. We decided that we ought to find some nice spot to eat them, though we couldn't think of one off the top of our heads. So we decided to drive around till we found one. After cruising Main Street for a while, I thought of the Pavilion, where we have our dances. It's on top of one of the big foothills and its' view is gorgeous at night; you can see the whole city at your feet. At night the ocean and the sky blend into one large black stain around you, but you can tell where the horizon is because of the oil rigs offshore. They are lit up at night so brightly that I once got a boy from out of town to believe that they were floating casinos. Amelia said that when she was young, she thought they were big ships, coming home. I thought that was nice. It's an odd thing about the Pavilion, though - no matter how many dances we've had there over the years, I always think of Pirates of Penzance when I'm driving there. I get that nervous anticipation that I associate with waiting backstage... and then I inevitably get "With Catlike Tread" stuck in my head. It was an interesting experience, that production. I can't say that I miss it much, but somehow I can't avoid feeling a sad nostalgia when I think about it. What a weird semester that was, in general. Probably the hardest year of my life - no, definitely the hardest. I and everything around me was changing, but no matter what else was going on, Tuesdays and Thursdays were spent with the cast at the Pavilion. I guess I just connect that building with a lot of different emotions - and emotions, whether they were positive or negative, tend to make us a little bit sad when we remember them. Or at least, they make me feel that way. I guess there are some people who can look back and be perfectly content with how things are now.

Anyway. Just as I was thinking about how perfect it would be, sitting up there in my car with Amelia, eating doughnuts and listening to music, we got to the Pavilion - and the parking lot was blocked off. We kept going along the road and a few streets later we found a residential road that was almost at the crest of the hill - and the view was almost as, if not more, beautiful. Maybe it was also beautiful because we just happened to find it that way; I don't know. But we parked in front of the houses there and ate our doughnuts and talked about a million different things. I introduced her to "Grace Cathedral Hill", and when it got to the chorus I was struck by how perfect it is for driving at night. "The world may be long for you, but he'll never belong to you. But on the motorbike, when all the city lights blind your eyes... are you feeling better now?" We really do live in a beautiful place, you know that? I don't think much of it during the day, but when I was up there, looking down on it with all its glittering lights, I felt a strange sort of pride. It might have been the first time I actually thought, "I'm glad I live here." Then after a while, we realized that we hadn't eaten dinner, and that we were incredibly hungry - and also, that we weren't ready to go home yet. So we drove across town again and found an In-n-Out, split a burger and fries, and took the food back to Amelia's street. We sat out in the car in front of her house, ate, and waited for her family to come home from wherever they'd been.

At 11, I told her that I'd better go, waited till she was safely inside, and then drove off. But I turned the opposite way on the street that usually takes me home, and went back up to the hills. I drove out a ways along the top of the hill, keeping the city to my right, until I felt that I was getting drowsy, at which point I turned back and found my way home. I sometimes go a little out of my way when driving somewhere, so that it takes longer and I have more time alone - but this was the first time I've gone driving for driving's sake. And it wasn't only that... when Amelia went back into her house, I found myself feeling kind of angry at the idea of going home so soon. Sometimes I get that feeling - the feeling that I'm not patient or energetic enough to be around people that I know - but usually I ignore it and go home anyway. Driving around town with Amelia last night, looking for beautiful places and doing spontaneous things (especially spontaneous things involving doughnuts), had made me so happy. If I could just do things like that for the rest of my life, I'd be quite content. I guess I just wasn't ready to end it at 11, so I drove until I was. Before I could drive, I'd never have thought of doing that; of course, before I could drive, I couldn't have done that. I suddenly feel so liberated and in-control. Big things are always going on, things that I have no control over whatsoever - but I've found something, one little thing, that I can do. When life is getting stressful, or home is frustrating, or I just need to get away, I have an out. I can drive.

P.S.

Colin Meloy is pretty much my favorite person right now. When you have a minute, go listen to The Decemberists' "After The Bombs."


After the bombs subside,
And this long, low campaign
Calls it good for the night,
We meet in the streets.
Will we meet in a bar's cold light?
We grip at our hands,
We hold just a little tight.

After the bombs,
After the bombs subside.

And after the rockets come,
And the glimmer of fire
Pretends an early dawn,
We pinch at our skin
While we wonder how we escaped harm.
We forget all our trials,
All there in our baby's arms.

After the rockets,
After the rockets come.

Then we'll go dancing,
Won't we go dancing?
Yes, we'll go dancing
Until it all starts over again.

Then we'll go dancing,
Yes, we'll go dancing.
Won't we go dancing?
Until it all starts over again.

Buh.

Today is a strange day: I slept until 1 o'clock. I knew I was tired all week, but I didn't quite realize I was that tired. I took my time getting ready and then took my time making pancakes. I had thought that right after breakfast (around 2 or 3 o'clock), I would start work on a history paper due Monday.... but I've been drinking coffee and sitting at the computer since then, and somehow it's 4:15. Normally I'd be home from school by now, drinking a pick-me-up coffee and halfway through my homework for the day. I feel exceedingly out of it, though, and am kind of thinking that maybe I'll just let myself have the rest of this Saturday to do nothing. Well... no. I'll work on the history paper at some point. But I think I'll leave homework at that. Speaking of history, did I mention that I got the top grade in my exam a few weeks ago? Top grade! Out of 125 people! Amelia got the second highest. Pendleton likes us quite a bit now.

Oof. I'm tired.

I kind of feel like I need to get out of the house today. Which is odd, since I've been pretty much gone all day every day this week, and all I've wanted is a day to lounge around at home without having to worry about going anywhere. But now I want to go out to coffee or a movie or something. Nowhere that I'd have to put on a show or be all ridiculous and up-beat... somewhere nice with someone comforting. But alas, people who fit this description are either mostly busy or elsewhere or nonexistent. Also, I don't really have time. Stupid history paper.

I think I'll go vacuum my room...

If I Had More Time.

[Which is a fantastic song. Tarkio. Look it up.]

1. Become incredibly well-read. There are so many brilliant people out there who have spilled brilliant things across many pages. Odd for me to admit this, whatwith my growing discontentment with humanity in general, but it's true. People can be so doggone brilliant.
2. Spend some time in Ireland. Also visit England, Rome, Paris, and many small villages inbetween.
3. Speak French fluently.
4. Learn a dead language.
5. Hug Jeff Bridges.
6. Find and marry Hugh Jackman.
7. Order a venti black coffee at the original Starbucks in Seattle. I will be wearing a long coat and a red scarf, be sitting on a couch inside, and will be reading T.S. Eliot. Look for me there.
8. Get something published.
9. Learn to play the harmonica.
10. Read through the Bible chronologically and in a short amount of time.
11. Live in a house with an unobstructed view of the sunrise.
12. Get the MG in our driveway running, and drive away in it with astounding speed and accuracy. I will also know how to drive stick by this time.
13. Receive a letter from Alan Arkin in response to the fan-letter I sent him years ago. He will also compliment me on my amazing artistic skills and on my ambitions of being able to "jump just like him".
14. Own and decorate my sunrise-view home. I will tell them "I don't care what it costs" and mean it.
15. Dye my hair red. Just to see.
16. Fly out to the moon and look back at earth, so I can get a proper perspective on everything.
17. Visit Chicago and sing "My Kind of Town" very loudly.
18. Be in a play on Broadway.
19. Take a road trip around the States. Yes, people are everywhere and technology links us far too closely... but there have got to be undiscovered places yet to see.
20. In the eventuality that none of these travels take place: Discover beautiful things, brilliant people, and excitement mingled with contentment in the places that I know.

hehe.

Every once in a while I go to the stats thing on my blog to see who's looking at what. I mostly like to see that people across the world can read my ramblings; it's fun. Anyway, under 'searched keywords', among other things, I found these... "era bipolar raskolnikov?" and my personal favorite.... "my animals have gone mad! why?"

Mad-Animal Person, I'm sorry if you're in danger of rabies or anything of that nature... but that made me laugh.

You win some, you lose some.

A few hours ago I was sitting here stressing over my assignment for my Creative Writing class. Strange, I know, that I should stress over something I love so much. We have to write a story combining elements of descriptions that we wrote last week. Simple, right? Not so. I was completely dry for ideas. Now, I've been wanting to write a short story on that True-Grit-esque dream I had the other night, but couldn't really justify myself spending time joy-writing (ha...) when I had so much school to do. So I decided to fudge the assignment a little bit, so that I could kill two birds with one stone, and make the assignment work for both. Well, I wrote it... but not only is it too long, it's entirely inappropriate for a class of young teenage homeschool girls. Not inappropriate as in bad, but it's... well, disturbing. I don't know, disturbing to me, at least. So now I've lost out on four hours of homework time, and I still have to figure out another story to write for class. Ugh.

BUT. You can make me happy and read it anyway, and let me know what you think. Also, yes, stupid title, but I had to give it a name in order to post it. When I think of something better I will change it. Ohh, so title recommendations are welcome, too.

http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2895606/1/The_Mountain_Pass