Leaving Town

You can always tell it's a special occasion when I floss my teeth. Only on the rare, monumental, once-in-a-lifetime chances do I actually observe proper dental care. It's sad but funny at the same time because now when I floss my teeth I know something good is going on. Way to go, conditioning!

Now to work for the morning before traveling hours home to my home away from home. Five days of freedom here I come!

I Can Only Laugh

I haven't paid much attention to my house the last few weeks because of how busy I've been with work and school. Today was the first day I've actually gotten around my house without being rushed and I was able to finally realize how much I truly hate it.

For example, here's a cool story from my childhood. My church used to have a little room where you could go and pick up cheap, old food for free (I think) on Sundays. It was probably food meant for poor folk like my family in order to keep us kicking a few more weeks so we could make more tithes the next day. Well, I used to take a sandwich and hide it under the seat in our van and check on it the following week to see how much mold had grown. It looked like a giant fuzzy guinea pig in a box each week. It was epic.

That's how my bathroom looks. It's a mold haven. There's more species of mold on my shower curtain alone than in that old sandwich box. It's gotten to the point that I just imagine I'm bathing in a forest...of mold. Even the floor is moldy. I think I used a gallon of bleach to clean that bathroom today.

Next, I hate my basement. When I was a little girl, my family would go to caves for vacations. It was dark, dingy, mysterious, and eerie. That's how I feel about my basement. It's a cramped, quiet, musky cavern beneath the world, out of sight and out of mind until you need your laundry. The basement still isn't the worse thing. The rugs are centuries old and cover the floors from wall to wall, every room and crevice. They have cool little stains on them. It looks like a dog went around and piddled everywhere. My kitchen is covered in hard-water stains. My house is amazing.

There are also bars on the windows. In order to secure the house from any possible Anderson killers, my roommate walked around when she first moved in and placed pieces of two-by-fours on every window and door. Now there are boards keeping the windows from opening. I feel like I'm in prison, figuratively and literally. On the bright side, I know I'll never get killed.

Unless the killer just decides to pick the one door handle lock on our door and walk in...

This Block Stinks

I started Book 3 what, maybe a month ago, and I have only achieved 4 pages. Granted, it was finals time and I was cramming in all my end of the year projects in but still, 4 pages isn't much. I guess I also did a few extra Book Bits and exercises in writing but I feel so... Unaccomplished.

The most frustrating thing as a writer is to not be able to write. There have been a few days where I'm excited to write and can't wait to get home and have the chance to sit down with my book. But by the time I get home from work I'm exhausted and just want to sleep. So I don't write and just increase my frustration.

It wasn't until a couple days ago that I decided to go for a Scatterfield drive (the first in months actually) and had one of those all-too-common revelations. I listened to some music I wrote Book 2 to and had a flashback to the summer when I was working on my desert book. The music put me back in the mindset of a laid-back, content period where I didn't have much to worry about besides work and 2 classes. When I jumped over to music I planned Book 3 to I was taken back to the fall where I would plan my book around the rainstorms that drifted in while green trees rattled over my porch.

These memories were so vividly tied to those songs that I realized I wasn't so much lacking my writing motivation or skill but just waiting for the right time to write. As a veteran writer, I know it's best to avoid writing when you aren't in the mood because all it makes is really poor material. Since I'm not surrounded by a happy environment, schedule, or mindset during the school term, I'm not writing. I don't want to associate Book 3 with being stressed and exhausted and overwhelmed.

This made me feel better for not writing this semester but it also broke my heart. Realistically, my schedule won't slow down until May. So I have to spend another semester reading and editing books instead of writing. This is hard for me to accept. I don't want to admit that I have to put off writing for another semester but I really do. For the sake of my books and my own overwhelmed mindset I have to set the books aside and focus on getting out of school.

But it still doesn't make it any easier to accept...

Double Post: The Writer is an Artist

I finally got that giddy feeling from writing today. I decided to write a Book Bits- what I like to call little pieces about my characters and stories. These things may not ever make it into a book (I don't intend for half of them to) but they help me familiarize myself with my characters and get excited about writing. I haven't been able to overcome a slight writer's block for about 3 weeks now so this was the best method to move on.

This Book Bit was amazing! It was bumpy at first because it was supposed to be a suspenseful one and I rarely write those. But it turned out excellent. It was so interesting and the characters just seemed to flow onto the pages. It was supposed to be a scene from the book I'll write after I finish this series (an entirely new book whose plot is still forming) so I was unfamiliar with where it would go.

While writing this four page bit that I totally miss my writing adventures. I was able to recall those moments where I get so wrapped up in the writing that I can't type fast enough to keep up with my mind. My palms were sweaty, my mind racing a million thoughts a minute, the music blaring in my mind. It was pure suspense. Even I didn't know what was going to happen.

Now that I'm done with that bit, I now know where I'm going and I'm going right back to the books. I'm leaping into those pages, rediscovering my love for the legends, and enveloping myself in the vocabulary, syntax, and plot. I'm building stories from threads, stringing them together to create a tapestry of art and words. This is what a writer is; an artist who feeds on their creations.

Leather Comes From Animals?

A customer was trying on a boot today when they asked me if it was made out of real leather. When I told them the manufacturer was an environmentally-friendly company they asked why that would make a difference. I stared at them for a moment, shook my head, and explained it to them.

Oy vey!

Christmas Song 2010

Every Christmas, I somehow find a Christmas song that I listen to over and over. This one is by far the funniest and cutest one I've heard in a long time.

Home Sweet Home

I've only stayed in the new house two nights but I've already developed a very strong memory of getting up early in the morning and watching the Today show with my sister while we sip coffee. Now when I watch the Today show at my house it feels wrong.

Only two weeks until I go home again!

Nice Things That Happened Today

1. Met with my adviser about my student teaching. When I walked in, everyone instantly asked me if I passed my Praxis. When I said yes, all these older women started cheering and giving me high-fives. It was so cute.
2. To top it off, my adviser showed me my interview critiques from student teaching and I got proficient ratings and was highly recommended to teach!
3. I did a nice deed at work and helped a couple air up the tires in their baby's stroller. It made me feel warm and fuzzy.
4. Chatted for a good while with employees around the mall. Laughed and joked with them.
5. Watched the carolers on campus.

In all, it was a good day :)

I'm Failing

Last week lesson plans were easy for me to do. This week I can barely make an outline and I teach tomorrow. I think I just might be screwed.

Things I'm Sick Of

- Talk shows, music shows, and television that sits around and gripes about these stupid little celebrities.
- Women who focus on their hair, face, boyfriend, and husband so much that they forget their own identities.
- Obnoxious people who give you a dirty look because you're tired of listening to them talk about who kissed who on the latest episode of Soap Operas International.
- The sense of righteousness some folks have.
- People who say their kid is the cutest one in the world. It's not. It's ugly. It's beautiful to only you so shut it.
- Ridiculous landlords who don't let you pay out leases so you can move out of a crappy house.
- School
- People without real dreams, goals, and hopes for the future.
- People who have too much money for their own good and buy superfluous stuff. It's sickening really.

Days like these really make me want to crawl under my blankets and forget the world. And I still haven't had a chance to pee today because of how ridiculously hectic it's been.

I Finally Read a Book

I should confess that it only took me eight months to read it but I did get it done. It's The Devil in the White City, a book by Erik Larson.


I will also confess that it's a nonfiction book, which is probably the only reason I read it. It's about Chicago in the Guilded Age, circa 1880-1890's, when Chicago won the bid to host the World's Fair. The fair was going to be the biggest event in the US and the country was relying on Chicago to prove how grand and powerful they were after they were shamed by the rest of the world's great leaps in technology and grandeur. The book follows the architects who built the fair in a matter of months and their struggles to overcome the hasty deadline.

While that plot certainly was interesting, I found the counter storyline to be more captivating. The book also followed H. H. Holmes, one of the most heartless serial killers of his day. I'd be willing to claim that he was even more deadly than Jack the Ripper. Holmes built his own 'castle' on the edge of Chicago, right across the street from the World's Fair. This castle had dozens of secret chambers, hallways that would suddenly bank strange directions, rooms without windows, and closets and doors that seemed to have no purpose. As he was building the three story hotel that took up an entire block, he constantly fired and hired different construction workers so no one would be aware of his demented intentions and chambers.

Over time, he lured women, their children, and their unfortunate husbands into the hotel with promises of wealth and jobs. The husbands would eventually disappear and the women were oftentimes killed in the secret chambers. Holmes prepared a vat of chemicals where he threw bodies in order to quickly discard of them, an airtight vault where he could gas victims or strangle them to death, and furnaces where he could burn them. He even stretched a few victims until their bodies broke apart. Others he dissected alive.

Holmes' victim count was confessed to be 28 but up to 200 more disappearances were accredited to him. Holmes is definitely a chilling character. There were parts in the book where I would shudder because of the acts he committed. However, he was also brilliant and that's what interested me. He was an amazing scientist, doctor, and businessman. Even though he wasn't born in wealth and had an abusive father, he managed to find wealth on his own terms.

Even though I liked this book I don't think I'll be reading anymore books about serial killers. I think it's time to move on to more positive things. I now have a book I want to start that follows an infantry through Normandy in World War II. Here goes another 6 months of reading one book!

Decorating the Temple

Someone mentioned that the body was a temple and sacred in the eyes of God. Therefore, they wondered if I thought it was acceptable that I got it tattooed.

I turned to this person, took in their dyed hair, tanning bed orange skin, ear piercing, artificially-whitened teeth, hair-spray molded hair, and politely smiled.

Stuck Between the Pages

You know you're back in the writing world when you start washing the dishes and feel guilty for using the water or when there's extra water in the bottom of the tub while showering.

I did miss my desert setting but I'm ready to jump into the jungles and see some rain. A writer's life is so...Odd.

Thanking on a Day of Thanks

Two years ago, I had the opportunity to spend a couple weeks in Florida with my family. As everyone who knows me knows, I am absolutely, 110% in love with Florida and our adventures down there. Those two weeks were exactly what I needed. It was shortly after a very tough break up with a boy I was very much in love with, the death of my beloved cat, and many other life struggles. Getting away to the coast was like going away to rehab.

Each night we went out or spent the evening driving home from a meal or adventure, I would search through m iPod and find a song to listen to. Eventually, I would come to this song every time. It's from the Australia soundtrack.



My particularly fav part was from 1:21-2:00. I listened to this so many times while in Florida. I will be the first to admit that while with my family there I would sometimes listen to this song and cry, not because I was upset or depressed but because I was so thankful for such a wonderful family who cared so much for me. Now when I try to listen to this song, I can't do it. Unless I'm in Florida, I can't listen to it.

Fast-forward to 2010. Today at work, I realized how important thankfulness really is. I would greet my customers and chat with them about holidays, occasionally asking what they were thankful for this year. Oftentimes, I would hear families, homes, girl/boy friends, mothers, fathers, etc. When I said goodbye and wished them a happy thanksgiving, they would smile back and, for once, genuinely wish me the same.

I saw their thankfulness and I felt it in return. You see a lot of times we get so caught up in the moment, in our lives, in our pursuits for happiness, that we fail to see what we should really be thankful for. I don't know if it's that I have so little this year or just that I've been away from home for so long but this year I am more thankful for my family than I am for anything else. There is nothing I would want more, no new house, no new car, no dog, no million dollars, than to be with my family. I would rather see their smiling faces, hear their shouts and yells, laugh at the ridiculous jokes, and eat food while we all poke fun at each other than have all the material positions in the world. I would rather be thankful for a million more of those Florida moments where everything comes together in a moment of contentment than a million dollars.

So this year, when there is so much I could be envious of, I will instead list the wonderful things I do have because, after all, it's those things that are making up my life and giving me happiness.

Even relatively well-adjusted adults can feel disconnected and sad after a move. It feels like my sister lives half way across the country. It no longer feel like I have a home. And just in time for my busy life to defeat my immune system. Now I'm sick. Blugh.

Hair Fail

I can literally smell your disgusting hair spray from half a block away. It's like I'm walking into a beer distillery. It makes me want to become an alcoholic and jump on watermelons at the same time. I hope no one on campus thinks you're an alcoholic.

Although, I must admit it would be funny.

Retiring

I think I'm more exhausted from driving than moving today. The new house is pretty cool. But it was a very bittersweet day. It doesn't feel like home yet and everything felt out of sorts. It was so far away and different from the old home that it felt like a dream. Plus, I didn't get to say goodbye to the old home. I don't think I like just leaving behind the place that's been my home for ten years without saying goodbye.

It's going to take a few days to recover from this one. I'm taking a break from life...for twelve hours and then it's time for a long week of homework and work.

Writer's Progress: Beginning

Today I started Book 3! It took 3 months but I finally had the guts to jump into it tonight. So far, I only have three paragraphs. I'm hoping to hit one page before the night's end but I'm not forcing myself into anything. A matter of fact, I'm not even going to hold myself to this book. If I wake up tomorrow and turn to it and find I don't like the intro, I may erase it and let it settle for a few more months.

All I know is that even within three paragraphs I already feel at home. I'm back in my desert, hearing the echo of the wind rushing through the canyon, feeling the sun bake my skin, tasting the grit of the fine sand on my tongue. The words are familiar. I remember using this syntax. I remember using the word Roan. I remember this world.

It is my home away from home :) There is absolutely nothing like returning to writing after a long hiatus.

I'll update in a few days once I'm 80%+ sure that I'll keep the book. Until then (and after some rather shocking news today that reminded me of our mortality) I'm thanking God for what he has blessed me with and taking a chance to breathe in his awe.

I Am A Professional

Today I was a professional.

When my student's parents entered the conference room, I stood up, politely nodded, and introduced myself.

"Hello, I am Miss Taylor. I am a practicum student in your child's classroom," I introduced. "I will be sitting in on your conference."

We exchanged formalities. They complimented me on my young age and distinguished schooling. I told them I was excited to finally meet them. We spoke about the brisk weather and approaching holidays.

My collaborating teacher entered the room. Together, we sat and looked over grades before beginning the conference.

The daughter cried most of the time. Why do you misbehave in class? I don't misbehave that much. Why are you so upset right now? You don't believe what I'm telling you. Why won't you just be easier to handle?

The grandmother sat back in her chair, obviously defeated by life and all she had seen in her relatively short years. The father interrupted every few minutes. I know she's a handful, she's my daughter. We'll have this fixed in no time. You need to pay more attention.

The child argued and shouted. The grandmother tried to appeal to her. The father pointed out her flaws without realizing it.

The whole time, I sat there in my cushioned red chair. All along I thought about how much I understood this girl and wanted to pat her arm and smile at her in comfort. I wanted to tell the father to bite his tongue and listen to his daughter. I wanted to tell everyone to shut up and just talk one at a time, following a logical pace and observing what they were saying.

But I didn't. Instead, I remained in my chair listening and waiting. Because I know that all wrecks eventually lead to recover. All wounds heal. An hour into the conference, when my teacher had left me with the child and parents, she girl leaned forward, met my eyes with those watery pools of aqua, and whispered to me in the quietest of voices.

"My problem is I just can't focus."

I knew she had turned around. I knew she heard us. I knew she was going to recover. But I didn't say anything. I only smiled and nodded my understanding to her.

Because I am a professional.

Writer's Thoughts: Comforting Moments

Double posting today because reading gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach whenever I come across this part. It's a piece from Book 2, only a chapter or so from the end so it's a rather tender moment between MC Roan and the cat he'd adopted at the beginning of the book. After a brutal separation, they reunited for a time. Click on the picture to read it full size.

I love this part just because how monumental it was for the characters to finally reunite. In the middle of the climax of the book plot, and time, slow down for this brief, but intense, moment. I tend to read this part a lot just before bed because it leaves me with soothing thoughts and a light heart.

Inspired

Nothing like a new soundtrack to motivate me to start Book 3. I went to click on Microsoft Word to open up a new document for Book 3 before I reminded myself that I have an assignment to finish tonight before I relax :(

Alas, it was a wonderful day though! In spite of my depressed mood last night (consult yesterday's emo post) I had a rather delightful day. Class was enjoyable, I got lots of homework done, and spent a large chunk of the afternoon and evening hanging out with my education buddies.

When I walked back home today I was humming Jurassic Park. This is rare for me since it's such a cheery theme and I've been so down lately. It made me excited to see my niece and family is 35 days :)

Now back to my homework assignment and listening to the new Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows theme!

Gimme a Hand

There are moments where I feel like running out of the house, racing to campus, standing in the valley, and screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to help me. I feel like there should be a siren for emergencies in life like there are for tornadoes. When I'm distraught, I need a panic button to push. I need a panic room.

I need to escape.

If this month gets any harder I could very likely give up. I could quit.

I can quit school.

That's the only escape in my mind right now. There's actually another. I could get in my car, forget these responsibilities, fill up my tank, play my angry music, and leave.

I can leave this house behind. I can leave this town behind. I can leave this life behind.

I need to know I can make it out of this hole alive. I need to know that beyond this dingy town of depression and hopelessness there's something bright, there is something more.

Writer's Thoughts

I realized today that it's been quite a while since I'd posted about writing and my adventures within that world. So here it is! What is destined to be a long-winded post by someone who's in love with writing and yet can't master it even with the greatest minds as help.

By greatest minds, I mean these fella's. http://www.writingclasses.com/Products/GothamPubsDetail.php/publicationID/1


I convinced my mother to buy me this book back in high school and only unearthed it a week ago. It's a great book and by far my favorite writing guide. It covers all the basics of writing fiction and has so many little interesting tidbits that push me toward creating a great work of art. Granted, as I progress through my writing I become more skilled than I was ten years ago when I first started. I can notice the difference that took place over 2 years. Book 5 is scattered. It's crammed full of ideas and plots, many of which don't make much sense. I'm not editing it right now (just reading for recreation) because I know by the time I finish the two books before it the plot will be turned around again. But when I jump back to Book 2, my most recent, I can see the difference. It's focused, guided, and follows the logical path of creative writing.

I guess I have a lot to do but that's the fun in writing; you never really finish writing books when they aren't published. Anyway, I wanted to do even better on Book 3 than I did on Book 2 so I whipped out this guide to help me polish my writing. I've gone through page after page after page of notes, plots, outlines, and random facts/events I want to include in the next few books. My new favorite activity is character development. I've realized how important it is to know every detail about a character before you start writing. I've worked on my characters' histories, family trees, childhood, schooling, goals, ideals, morals, speaking habits, ticks, quirks, dialects, favorite foods, everything! I even did an activity where I placed two random characters in a situation where they were changing a tire just so I could see what would transpire between them.

I don't know why people avoid writing so much. I find such a thrill in the whole idea of creating something so amazing that I love it more than anything. I have to admit that if I never get published (something I desperately want to do one day) I would be okay with it, because I just love writing for the sake of writing.

I have yet to actually start Book 3 because of all these exercises and how busy my schedule is getting as I near the end of the semester. There are a few times each day, though, where I allow my thoughts to wander and I find myself back in the world of my novels, hearing the dialogue as if I were standing there, and developing plots as they unfold on the page. I definitely love writing. Once life calms down and school returns to normal I'm jumping right into those pages again :)

Waiting To See

After a rather rough week and an even harder day, I was driving home after a crazy day at work when I found this song on my iPod.



Brandon Heath is my new favorite artist and his songs are really deep and touching. When I heard this one tonight for the first time I couldn't believe how much it related to my life. In a time where I was so sure things were done, where my schooling could end, where my life could go in a direction I really don't like, this broke through the miserable bubble I'd woven around myself.

I kept going over how the plans I'd made for myself were about to be changed and how much I hated it. I was balancing everything on a few conditions and it was looking like everything I'd set out for myself was about to be lost. While I could still lose all those things, and while I'll still hate the fact that I will lose them, this song reminded me that it isn't my plans that matter.

Instead of worrying over the plans that I had set out for me I should be leaving it up to the plans I already had set out for me. I may not get what I want but I'm getting what God intends for me to have. There have been dozens of times in life where I never got what I want but I would never trade my past for that of an easier life. The struggles I've overcome in the past are what make me who I am and this is just one more obstacle created to strengthen and mold me as a person. While I love the life I have pictured for me, I can't imagine the wonder of the life God has planned for me and I'm ready to see that above all the goals I've set for myself.

I Think Not

I finally took my Praxis II today and I have a feeling I didn't pass it. I didn't pass it last year by two points. Unfortunately, I was stupid enough to put it off until this month, meaning by the time I get my grade back in December it will be too late to retake the test if I didn't pass it today. Basically, I have to take a semester off from school since I would have to put off teaching another semester.

Someone told me yesterday that when I take the test a huge load would be lifted from my shoulders and I would be relieved to have it done. While it's true I'm glad it's over I feel no less unburdened. Now I have to spend four weeks waiting for a simple score that could determine whether or not I'll be able to leave this town in the summer. If anything, I feel worse than before. I would rather spend the next four weeks taking tests every day instead of waiting on just one test.

I don't think I would even come back to Anderson University if I didn't pass the exam and had to take a semester off. I don't like the school and all my friends would have graduated by next year. So instead I'll either discontinue my education or just transfer elsewhere.

What a downer...

Connections

While at work today I got to see my favorite mall manager. We were chatting it up in the last few minutes of the day when I figured out a really awesome fact about her. Before I share that fact, I should mention that this woman is full of surprises. She's a straight-up Christian but she swears like a sailor. She loves eating chocolate and unhealthy things even at an old age. She's a sweater-wearing granny who loves riding motorcycles and sitting around talking about how trashy girls can be.

Well, today I found out that she once lived in Las Vegas and while there she developed very close friendships with the Italians. They were an incredibly nice family and got very close to her and her own family. She always wondered why they were so rich and drove amazingly expensive sports cars. It wasn't until they broke a man's arm in the back yard that they realized they were the mafia. They hooked her up with sweet deals (cars, restaurants, shows, etc). They became close with the mafia and she loved every minute of it.

When I told her I went to Italy and I talked about the supposed mafia members I saw, she thought it was the coolest thing. We now had a connection beyond all other connections. I, Italian, now knew someone who could hook me up with the mafia and she knew someone who could hook her up with Italy.

The only problem is that the mafia family she was friends with got in a fight with a Don from another family. Now there's a mafia going on in Las Vegas. Looks like I'm going to have to wait to call out some favors for a while. But I will eventually get that fancy red car and a steak and lobster dinner!

Also, something exciting happened this week. I'm now in negotiations with the top Australian Shepherd dog breeder in the United States. We're talking the Westminster here! More to come later when things are finalized :)

Yikes

Two hours is a long time. One hour is not so long and it's even less when you compare it to two hours.

What can be done in two hours? I asked google this. It said...
Rate passers by
Repeat the same word over and over until it loses its meaning
Try to swallow your tongue
Make Star Trek door noises
Pretend all humans will die except for people in room with you

Like I said, two hours is a long time. I don't think I want to drive two hours every time I want to go home.

Is it bad that the thought of having to drive two hours one way in a beat up old car on a busy highway makes me cry? Gotta love those hormonal days of the month. I'm sure that's the reason I'm crying...

Random Tidbits

I really, really hate that sentence. I've been reading this book for over a year now and every time I get to this part I predict that sentence and despise it just as much as the time before. Yet, I still haven't changed it. I probably won't until I finish Book 3 and 4 and reach 5 (this one) again. So a couple more years of hating that passage are bound to happen.

Today was ridiculously difficult for supposedly being my easy day of the week. Actually, it wasn't exactly difficult. It was ridiculous though. It was full of ups and downs. First class of the day wasn't bad, chapel was stupid and a waste, second class of the day was good, the hour until work was wasted because I'm too exhausted to do anything but stare at homework, work was okay while I worked with my boss, work was stupid when I worked with someone else, and after work was just a mental, emotional, and physical crash from it all.

On a lighter note, I purchased donuts from the school cafe today. They were good but after getting them I placed my ID card in my back pocket. When I got home later, I went to go to the bathroom, pulled down my pants, and heard a "Sploosh!". It was my ID card. It fell in the loo. Needless to say, I had to get my card back so I stuck my hand in the toilet to get it. Lucky for me I hadn't used the toilet yet so it was clean water.

On a darker note, today was really hard for me to get through. There were several times where I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep and leave behind the worries of a college student. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed that I feel like I won't survive the day. It's silly but true. I get so panicky and upset that I don't do anything right or logically. I went through the entire day like this until I got home from work. After a few minutes of detoxing while listening to some good fuzzy-feeling music, I started to recover and regain my composure.

Rash? I Call it Spontaneous

I'm the kind of girl who does stupid things when she's bored. Four years ago I thought it would be cool to get three piercings in one sitting. Three years ago I thought it would be awesome to get a nose piercing. Two years ago I drove across the country to meet my ex. One year ago I chopped off all my hair. Half a year ago I got two tattoos.

Obviously, that's just in four years. High school was a disaster. Well, I've learned to curb my ill-planned adventures. I don't randomly decide to go sky-diving and leap out of the nearest plane. Today I wanted to get another tattoo. So I drew it on my hand. This is the result.

This at least keeps me from actually forking over 40$ and regretting it. Now I'm just wandering around with a permanent marker tattoo.

I had so much more on my mind and had at least 3 ideas to rant about but it's that time of the month and I feel like curling up in the fetal position and sleeping away the next week so that won't happen. Instead, I'll mention how I watched an hour from Gangs of New York today in one of my school classes. It was a pretty cool movie but anytime I think about gang movies I think about Kung Fu Hustle and all I can see is this.



Makes it slightly hard to take anything gang-related seriously...

Nostalgia

Today I headed home to move out the rest of my stuff from my mom's house. I haven't lived there in over a year and the three before then were just school breaks. That home wasn't my home after leaving for college. Nor was school but it was a home I created, albeit left behind each fall. Sometimes, I think I get a sense of how military families must feel. Moving each year is difficult. You settle into a place you think will be the best one and for half a year it is the place you rest, laugh, cry, suffer, and mature. Then you pick up to find another place to call home for another half year.

I cleared out the room I called home for 18 years over the span of a couple days. When I had finished I stood back for a moment and looked at what I had gathered. 18 years of life were summed up in 7 bags of trash (that my mom will inevitably go through to ensure I didn't throw away some valuable trinket) and 10 bags of garage-sale/donation. The ironic part was that 18 years of my life were now gathered in two cardboard boxes, a knit bag, and two plastic bags.

When I walked up to the attic to store the items I had to pause and chuckle at the silliness of the whole fiasco. In an attic crowded to the rim with bags and boxes and items, there were two boxes of 18 years' collecting. My mom scoffed that I was only keeping enough stuff for two boxes. When I compare everything I kept to what she has, I can understand her disbelief.

I may not have kept much but what I did keep was important to me. Little books about grammar and writing, stuffed animals I loved, toys I loved when I was just a child. Those were important. Not old picture frames, awards and papers printed on dull pieces of paper, or ribbons tied around old gifts. What I kept was something so important that I needed to keep it just so I could look back and smile at who I used to be.

The other stuff I tossed out isn't something I'll miss so much that I'll regret it. I won't miss those high school awards, the picture frames that held the images from my past, the notes I passed around in class, or the trinkets I collected from toy dispensers. The way I see it, I have all those trinkets hidden away in my memory. I remember sitting in class passing those notes around, working for and accepting those high school awards, and playing with those toys on the floor of my bedroom. I look at pictures and they come to life with the memory of sitting on the corner of my bed and taking a picture of my cat while she smiled at me.

Moving so often has taught me to only keep the most important of objects and to file the rest away into my head. I will always have those memories of my family, friends, schooling, and pets. I won't always have those pictures or papers. So why should I carry around those pieces of the past and let them collect dust when, in time, they too will just turn to dust?

Though I am prepared to move on with my life (both figuratively and literally since everyone in my family is moving and leaving behind old houses) I think I've been struggling to accept it. Today I had to finally accept it and I was okay with it. Yes, I wallowed around my room for a good while and pitied myself. I was upset for a time. But now I see the value in giving up the past and moving forward. When you have enough memories to make up for the lack in belongings, when you can fit 18 years of your life in your car, you have a life more fulfilling than any life with a thousand boxes of pictures and a dozen attics of belongings.

I'm Adding Hoodrat to my Professions

On my way out of school today, I signed out at the office and sat down to wait for Carpool Buddy (who I burned out of the car this morning) to arrive from his class. The principal's door opened and three troublemakers walked out. When I picked my customary chair to sit in I didn't realize I was picking the middle chair. So the three hoodrats had to sit on each side of me.

Now I had three hoodrats twice my size sitting around me. It was really awkwardly silent for a few seconds because they were in the presence of the noble Anderson University teacher and I was surrounded by knife-wielding thugs.

Then one turns to me, grins real big, and says, "I ain't gonna bite, you know."

Needless to say, I added being late to the list of attributes I hate about Carpool Buddy.

Best News of the Day

I most likely have a new house to live in :) It's breathtaking and massive and has sprawling fenced-in fields for horses. There's even a sturdy barn with already built stalls for horses. The floors are hardwood too! The bad news is that it's two hours away from my house and that's the reason I have yet to see it in person. I'm sure the pictures I've seen don't do it justice.

Possibly having a new house is wonderful but at the same time it's so saddening. I spent over ten years in the old house. It was there that I adopted my wonderful late cat Kess and played with the old sheltie dog J.J. I remember the infamous day we cracked rotten eggs under the porch. I loved the day my niece came home to even now where she leaps and bounds down the halls. I remember spending evenings on the lawn watching the golden sun set over the fields, the bright green trees lighting up under its glow. Every time I come home, I begin the visit with chasing the dog around the yard because he's overjoyed to see me. I love the grill-outs we spend together as a family and the warm evenings I spend cuddling and admiring my strong sister and her family.

We had a lot of memories in that house and I think it was more my home than even my mom's house or even my own humble home. I've never dealt well with change and that's going to make this transition harder. But, as was once said, 'The key to change is to let go of fear'. That's the truth today. I may dread leaving behind the house I made all those memories in but the fact is I'm not leaving behind those memories. I'm leaving behind a location and taking those memories with me. Today, I may lose a house but tomorrow I gain the opportunity to make new memories and forever carry those golden ones with me.

Because of that, I can cope with this change. My family, my pets, my memories, and our future resides in that new house and soon I will too.

Election Day

Every time I saw a status on Facebook or heard a comment around campus today I realized how incompetent my peers are. Only a handful actually know what goes into voting and the government. The other half...They just paint themselves as stupid, ignorant, uneducated bigots.

If you're going to complain about voting, government, or policy then at least attempt to educate yourself on the topic.

Those of us who are educated point and laugh about how ridiculous you are.

This is How I'm Going to Die

My carpool buddy refuses to turn on the heat on our trips to and from school. Now, this may not seem like a big deal compared to the catastrophic things that often happen in life but it's monumental for me.

That's because I thrive in warmth. If I'm not warm, I'm not awake, functioning, alive. When we leave at 7am for school it is freezing. Literally. There is frost outside. This Friday calls for snow. In spite of that and knowing full-well how cold it is (I bitch about it all morning) Carpool Buddy does not turn on the heat.

To make it worse, he actually runs the AC so he can defrost the windows. THE AC AT 7AM ON A NOVEMBER MORNING.

He was complaining how he had a cold and couldn't understand where it came from. I just wanted to turn to him, point at the AC controls, and scream, "YOU IDIOT, IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE ICING YOUR CAR IN THE FREAKING MORNING!! WE AREN'T IN HAWAII, DAMMIT, TURN ON THE HEAT!"

Somehow, I bite my tongue. I'll show him when it's my turn to drive. My car is going to be a furnace and I will rejoice in it.

Triumph!

Hell, yeah, it's November, baby!

Well, almost November but by the time I wake up it will be! This means I've survived two of the longest months in the school year (besides April) and I now have only like 18 days of school left. That means only 1.5 months of this semester. That means only a few weeks until I'm done with classes.

That means only six months left in this god-forsaken house with god-forsaken roommates in a god-forsaken town.

It's kind of sad that I count down the months, weeks, days, hours of my future but when you're as unhappy as me it's unavoidable. I am so psyched. I can find my own home (or move in with a sib/mom) in only a few months, get a dog, get a job, and get a life.

And I'll only have to have one job in a few months! Not three! I don't think I could be as excited as I am right now!

The First Hurdle

I am now only a few days away from starting Book 3. I can feel it in my bones and I'm totally excited. The hardest part now? Picking the title.

I've always had problems picking a title for my papers and articles. In school, when I'm turning in an objective paper I don't spend that much time on picking the title. They basically just get titled by the assignment. But for essays, term papers, and finals, I tend to spend more time on the title, introduction, and conclusion than I do on the body of the paper. I find sometimes that it's easier to just write the paper before making the title.

But with a book this can be difficult. I have dozens of files titled beginning Book 1, Book 2, Book 3, etc, because I'm always making notes, maps, or reminders about that specific book. So I tend to want to pick out my book title before I actually start writing the book. And so my dilemma for Book 3 begins here. I wanted to capture some of the wonder the original title of Book 3 had but since I'm essentially taking out the plot that title was based off of it wouldn't make much since to keep it.

There are a few things writers should keep in mind when selecting a new title....

It's hard to place more importance on one tip over another but I would have to say that keeping it simple is vital. You don't need something amazingly complicated for a title, especially for a fiction book.

Next, it needs to capture the essence of the book. The title must have wording that carries positive connotation and leaves a feeling with a reader that will encourage them to read on.

However, capturing the essence of the book doesn't mean that the title must encompass everything within the book. The title can refer to something as small as just a sentence in the book. For example, a book titled The Beat of Courage can follow the story of an athlete who practices and increases his sporting performance through many personal hardships, but the title may refer to the moment at the end of the book when the athlete listens to a song on the way to his final track meet and that song gives him courage.

Another part of picking a title is that it hasn't been used before. Now, this is easier said than done. Obviously, there have been thousands of books over the years and any writer is bound to come up with a title that has been used in the past. The only thing the writer can do is hope their title hasn't been made famous before. Then they can go ahead and use the title. Just be mindful that you're sharing a title with someone else and, therefore, it may not entirely be yours.

Of course, all these tips are basically useless for a writer because it's the publisher who's making the final choice on title. Writers may swear up and down by a title and feel like it's the perfect one. But if they intend on getting published, they have to be willing to give up that title. The publisher is the one who professionally pitches and sells books and they ultimately know best. Besides, wouldn't the writer rather have the content of their book be the focus of it, not the title?

That's why even when I'm trying to pick out a title, I don't give it so much thought that I become attached to it. Yes, I love seeing that title in my documents list or on paper and I do become rather fond of it but I'm willing to give it up. I try to see the title as a mere convenience. It's just there for me to enjoy until it comes time for the world to see it.

Right now, I have 5 ideas for Book 3's title and only 2 are actually promising. In my mind, I'm already referring to it by one of the titles so I think that may end up being the winning option.

No more naps. Coupled with my chronic insomnia, naps are killing me. I think I got four 4 hours of sleep last night. My goal today is to get a bunch of errands done and avoid naps at all costs.

I didn't think it would ever come to this but I almost miss my overwhelming amounts of homework. At least it kept me awake.

Slowly but Surely

This last week all I've been able to think about is my book. I gave up reading the Hidden Book just because it was really elementary and silly. When I went back to Book 2 I found it just as boring as the Hidden Book. I'll probably stick with it a couple more days just for the sake of updating myself on the story but all I can think about is Book 3.

I have the first third of the book outlined to the detail (it's only lacking the dialogue) so I think the foundation is set for the rest. I want to keep my options open for the rest of the book in case I have to change things or want to add or take away plots. It already looks like one plot will have to be entirely cut just because it makes no sense whatsoever.

I just have to do a bit more research and think up a title since the old one wouldn't work with the new plot but I think I'm only just a few days from beginning the book, especially with the laid-back schedule I now have with school. I'm so excited that I can barely focus on my homework or schoolwork! I love this feeling of overwhelming anticipation :)

Mode: Shut Down

I've been in exhaustion mode since the weekend. I slept 11 hours Saturday night, 9 hours Sunday night, 4 hours Monday afternoon, 9 hours last night, and I have a feeling I'll take a long nap today.

I hate wasting time sleeping but my body is slowly but surely dying from lack of rest.

I Love Love, I Love Being In Love

Those are the lyrics from a song I particularly enjoy and, while the song is about being romantically in love with someone, I'm in love in a different fashion. I love a life I'm looking forward to and only catch fleeting glimpses of. There's the usual life I have at my house; a life full of school, work, teaching, bills, responsibility, and burdens. It's the life I hate.

Then there's the life I'm in love with. It's a life where I strive to do the most to help those around me. It's a life where I can have responsibilities all day long and feel content enough to fall asleep early in the evening. It's full of fun, family, and freedom. I still deal with my responsibilities and I still have to do things I may not like (cleaning up barf/waking up early) but it's a different sense of commitment. It leaves me with feelings of happiness and moments of warmth. I commit everything to memory because I always want to be able to remember those moments where it's all perfect.

I was getting ready for bed over the weekend and standing next to my 5-year-old niece at the sink. We were just chatting, talking about hairstyles, earrings, school, and how terrible her brothers are. While I was washing my face she turned to me, grinned, and said, "That stuff smells good," in her strange little accent. Tonight, back at my house, I was getting ready for bed and remembered her comment and grinned.

It's memories like that and long weekends of fun that remind me what I'm working towards. Even if this life, the one in ye olde Anderson, is taking longer than I expected, I know there's a life outside this one that I can look forward to. In a few months I'll find more contentment and rest and if it takes a few months of suffering to get there then so be it. Because, in the end, all I really want is to be in love with my life :)

The Hidden Book

So I've got 5 books I want to get published one day. Those are the books I always talk about. My Fire of the Heart series. I finished editing Book 2 again and I think this will be the last time I go all the way through it. Since I'm still working out a few details for Book 3 and life is a bit too busy to start it just yet, I decided to crack open the Palm Tree Chest.

Yes, the Palm Tree Chest. It has its own capitalized name. This is the chest I keep all of my most private and top secret writings and journals. I rarely venture into the chest. It's kind of like Pandora's Box. Once it's open, there's no going back.

But today I cleared all the junk I set on top it and unlocked it, releasing from the confines stale air and thick dust. Within it, I rediscovered The Hidden Book.

This book was my attempt at writing after I finished my beloved Fire of the Heart series. It was a set of two and a half books. Book 1 of that set was...interesting. Book 2 wasn't half bad. The problem was I knew I was never going to publish the books and just wrote them for my own pleasure. They're poorly written, have more plot holes than swiss cheese, and can barely hold their own for more than two chapters. Compared to my FOH series, they were dreadful.

But they're my guilty pleasure. I read them maybe once or twice a year (compared to the weekly readings of FOH). I guess while I'm working on Book 3, I'll read The Hidden Book before I go to sleep each night. Gotta love the life of a struggling writer :)

When I'm overwhelmed I say...

God will provide, patience will pay off, and faith will be your strength.

The Briefest Breath

With a life as ridiculously out of control and busy as mine I struggle to find chances to just relax and ponder the world around me. School is calming down a bit now, yet I feel equally as busy. I got word today that I have to come up with nearly two thousand dollars in order to come back to school next semester. With it being my last semester, I definitely need to be back here and, to be honest, I don't have the money. Paying rent, utilities, gas, car maintenance, and everything else that pops up in life doesn't leave much left over. I also had to buy a laptop this week because my old one died so I'm lower on funds than is usual.

I know the Lord will provide for me so, unlike last year when this happened, I didn't break down in tears and hate my life. Well, I did hate on my life for a while but when does that not happen? :) Instead of sobbing and whining, I reminded myself of what I truly have in life and what it is I'm striving to perfect. I have a wonderful family, a niece that adores me, nephews who think their aunt is pretty darn cool, and wonderful siblings and mother. I still have exceptional health. I still have a warm (relatively) house, a comfy bed, and schoolmates and teachers who care for me.

It's the moments where all this settles in and I get a chance to sit down and breathe that I strive for. I have a chance to remember what I've been blessed with. It seems in those few minutes where I remind myself of these things that the world around me seems to slow down, I feel warm and comforted and safe, and there is a golden future ahead of me. It's in those moments, despite how brief they may be, that I relish in the contentment and happiness I so actively pursue.

Roommates

Why the hell do people have to do their laundry once a week?

Seriously, is there something that vital in their laundry bag that they really must wash each week? A lucky pair of undies? A black top that simply goes with every outfit? Or is it that once they have ten pairs of socks left in their drawer, it's desperately necessary to wash the five in the basket?

I'm going to lose it. It's going to build up and I'll snap. One day, I'll be curled up in the corner of my room, rocking back and forth, sobbing and crying and repeating to myself that I only have seven months left. Just seven months...Just seven more.

I should also add that I know I'm not the easiest to live along with. I'm sure the fact that I don't clean the bathroom ever annoys people. I know there has to be more about me that drives people crazy. But for Pete's sake, must one really wash their laundry every week?

I blame the fact that they don't pay the bills and their parents do. Fail.

Nightly Prayer

Dear God, grant me the strength and patience to overcome this year. I'm struggling more so than usual and I'm fully aware of this. I wish I could change it. Every day I wish it were different. I'm trying to do what's right but there are times where I can barely do what's required of me to survive a day. I don't have the courage to be assertive and explain what's bothering me to those around me. Other times I can't shut my mouth long enough to hear your words.

Today, I struggled with bitterness and pride. I fought to overcome my emotions when I spitefully hated those who were once close to me. I push my loved ones away because I despise them for what they have been given and what I envy. I know this is a fault of mine. I am often bitter and it a great obstacle I struggle to overcome.

Perhaps tomorrow will be different. Perhaps tomorrow I will have the strength to make the change I so desire to see in my life. No matter what, tomorrow is another chance to see the sun rise and affect my future. After all, that is the greatest gift a god could give.

Amen.

The Exodus

Today was a struggle for me. I spent the weekend at home with my wonderful family. I didn't work, I didn't worry over homework, and I spent most of the time having fun with my niece and nephews. I really needed the time off from life in Anderson but, as always, I knew returning to AU would be troublesome. I hate coming back to this town after staying at home. It's like a crash course in reality. On one hand there's rest and relaxation while on the other is hardship and distress.

In order to better cope with this transition and the coming month before I can spend another weekend at home, I decided I would read a few passages from the Bible and seek strength and inspiration from there. I've always loved the story of Moses and the Israelites and started there. It's the first time ever that I've actually read Exodus and not just heard the story through movie or discussion and I have to say it's a really complex passage.

Most people focus on the plagues or God's seemingly callous approach to his punishments. I feel like I grew up hearing about how important it was to do what God wanted you to in order to avoid punishments like the plagues. While reading through it today, I realized Exodus has another aspect to it. It's about the glory of God and how strongly we, as believers, are called to have faith in him.

One passage that truly affected me was Chapter 4: 11,

‎"Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and teach you what to say."

This passage just demonstrates how powerful God really is. Moses doubted God's ability to convince the people of his glory. God reminds Moses that it is he who created the world and who has power over everything that happens within it. He has the power to change people's beliefs, appearances, and lives. After all, it is God who created the deaf and mute. He created the extremists, the nonbelievers, the world that surrounds us, the autistic, and the gifted. It is he who has complete control over the nations and civilizations.

This passage also captures the calling for faith that God asks us all to have. Moses not only doubted God's power but he also doubted his wisdom. He questioned God's decision in picking him to lead the Israelites from Egypt. He was sure God had picked the wrong man because of Moses' lack of social and speech skills. But God revealed that his doubt was in vain. He knew Moses. A matter of fact, he created Moses, just as he created the lame and broken.

All throughout Exodus, this issue of doubt arises again and again. Moses doubts that God will convince Pharaoh to let his people go. The Israelites doubt that Moses knows what he is doing when they leave Egypt; they even doubt God's ability to lead them through the Red Sea. Often times, historians and Christians focus too much on the aspect of doubt from Exodus and not enough on faith. It is faith that God repeatedly calls us to have in his decisions. The humans are rash and anxious to see change immediately. When God delays his actions, he wishes his believers only have faith and wait to see change. With constant faith in God, the Israelites would, in time, see that he truly knew what he was doing.

This book is very important to me because of this calling for faith. At this point in my life, I, like the Israelites, anxiously look for change around me. I want my life to improve in only a few days. I want more security, more happiness. When it appears this isn't happening in the span I want it to, I grow restless. I doubt my faith and God and wonder why change isn't taking place. I struggle with having faith so much right now that it's nearly a daily battle.

But, just as it's a daily battle, it's also a daily opportunity for me to reevaluate my life and realize that God is doing what he needs to in order to develop me as a respectable believer and citizen. When I start to get restless and wonder when things will change, I remind myself to have patience; God will reveal his plans for me when the time is ideal for him, not for me. Until then, I must only wait and pray for enlightenment.

Trends

Last year during October's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, people all over Facebook started posting things like "Blue", "Green", and "Polka Dots with Bears and Beavers". For a while, people were like wtf...Even I was stumped until I googled the damn thing. That's when I realized that they were promoting breast cancer awareness through their statuses and revealing what color bra they were wearing. At the time, I thought "Awe, that's cute and, yet, lame" and moved on.

Today, it began again. Like that damn time of the month every woman dreads. Or like the test that's coming or presentation that you've been avoiding for weeks until the day before it's due. With great unease, I saw it and realized before I even googled it what it meant.

Women are now posting "I like it on the desk", "I like it on the floor", and "I like it near the window". No, this isn't about sex, kinky operations, or hinky hijinks. It's about where they like their purse.

Because where you place your purse raises awareness of breast cancer and promotes actively searching for a cure.

Where the hell do purses even connect with breast cancer?

This year, I find it, to put it in the simplest terms, lame. Where you put your purse does nothing for breast cancer. If anything, you're wasting time and trying to look stupid. You're a hipster and that's the saddest thing you could ever be besides a Twilight fan.

Some people actually make donations to breast cancer research. That dollar or pocket change may not look like much but it helps. At least, it helps more than where you place your purse.

So, for once, let's try to not be hipsters and put our actions -and money- where our mouth is.

Limbo

I feel out of sorts with the world around me. It's hard to put into words what I'm feeling but, as part of the survival process, I feel it's necessary to get it off my chest. The last few days have been considerably slow compared to the first month of school but I still feel like I'm drowning under all my responsibilities. I feel like I'm caught between lives, in a way.

Part of me feels like running around stressed is what I should be doing. When I have time to relax, I don't know what to do and feel guilty for not working. When I'm with friends, I feel guilty for not doing homework but when I'm doing homework I feel guilty for not hanging out with friends. When I'm in class, I feel like I'm so close to finishing my school term but when I'm at home I feel like it could never come faster. Everything feels wrong because of this. My life doesn't feel like my own. It's as if I'm in someone's shoes and living their life while mine is only waiting for me on another day. Each night, I go to sleep expecting to wake up and find things magically better. When it's not, I wander about my day, meeting one deadline then another, struggling to understand what it is I'm missing while fighting to fulfill all these expectations.

It's like I'm being stretched ten different ways. Everyone wants a part of Bekah. They want her over here in class learning, over there teaching, working in this place, studying over there, hanging out over here, talking with her or him. Each time a new part of me gets stretched out to meet another deadline, another part looses part of the blood rushing to it. Soon, there will be too many pulls and tugs and the body will snap.

It still hasn't hit depression yet but it's barely above it. I have to sit myself down sometimes and remind myself to stay calm and logical. I feel like crying but when it gets that bad, I call a sibling and rant. I'm worried I don't have what it takes to be a teacher. I worry I don't have what it takes to work full-time, go to class full-time, finish all my homework, and still have a few minutes to read or write leisurely. These last two weeks were the first times I've seriously considered taking a semester off school. When I was younger, I always told myself that when things got so stressful that I considered dropping school, it was necessary to make changes.

Yet, where do I make change? In work hours? In class hours? In family hours?

Things I Say To Myself On a Nearly Daily Basis

1) Getting up at 7am isn't really that bad. You could always have it worse.
2) Getting up at 6am isn't really that bad. You could always have it worse.
3) Eat the last of the food in the pantry even if it means eating stale, moldy food.
4) Saving money is important. We want a dog and an apartment next summer.
5) If you don't do your homework now, you'll only regret it later when you're rushing to finish it.
6) Don't get anymore tattoos/piercings.
7) Staying up late is for partiers, druggies, crazies, and college kids. I like being asleep by 11pm.
8) Don't forget to eat at least 2.5 meals today.
9) Pee at least 5 times each day but spend no more than 2 minutes in the bathroom. You don't have the time.
10) Heat is for the weak. Cold makes you strong, especially 39 degree nights.
11) Having a wrecked car isn't all that bad. It only shows how seasoned and apt to survival you are. Just like scars and Bear Grylls.
12) Just smile, breathe, and remind yourself what you do have in life.
13) Someone always has it worse. You only have it this way for a couple more months.

Preparing for Book 3

In preparation for Book 3, I had to go back over the past two books and reread and edit them. There were a few things that needed to be cleared up and I wanted to be extra prepared for whenever I started Book 3. One of the bigger preparations that goes into starting the next book was trying to make the time line seem logical and reasonable. I began mapping out Book 2's journey and finished that up pretty fast. It was when I pulled out my map from 10 years ago for Book 1 that I realized I was in trouble.

Just as an idea of how bad it was, I'll tell you that I had drawn pretty much all my rivers flowing north.

Rivers flowing north.

Unless every river in my books magically turned into the Nile or defeated gravity, I'm pretty sure I got screwed over by 11-year-old me. I had to practically redo Book 1's map because it honestly made no sense. By the time I redid the map and got it on paper, I once again realized I had been screwed over by 20-year-old and 21-year-old me. According to the newly redone map, my time line for Book 1 was off. Dreadfully off. By maybe two weeks.

So, instilled with this dramatic realization that I'm a terrible writer, I went back over Book 1 and rewrote most of it so I could fix the time line. It's a rather sad attempt at fixing something and I have a feeling I'll be rewriting the entire book in a few years once I attempt to get published.

I'm now reviewing Book 2 again but I think I've gone over it too many times. I think I've read it so often that I can't read it much more. This can only mean that Book 3 is nearing. I'm not ready for it yet. I think I've got the second half figured out but I'm still struggling on creating a start and the first half. Hopefully, I'll find some ideas soon though because I'm very excited about it and I really want to jump into something fun and challenging.

I Hate This

Do you ever have those moments where you realize you're a total blonde and idiot? It's like after 21 years of existence I have yet to realize what the eff is going on around me.

I tend to pride myself on picking up on subtle emotions, reactions, and thoughts from those around me. I know, I'm arrogant but I can't help it, damn it. It's a side affect of my ridiculously incurable fear of talking in front of people and turning into a shuddering ball of shyness in a corner while a crowd of people drinks, laughs, and parties around me. I learned to shut up and listen more than talk.

Anyway, I finally realized today that I'm an idiot. When it comes to guys, I have zero tact. What I thought was a playful offer for coffee in the a.m. turned out to be a date offer I think.

Let's start from the beginning with a few of the fail relationships I've had in my life.

1) Stephen- My first year at school was in fifth grade. I instantly fell in love with a kid named Stephen. At the time I thought he was the best. When I look back now and remember him, it dawns on me that Stephen was a nerd. He had glasses. Big ones. He had buckteeth. He was short and stocky. But to my unschooled fifth grade heart, he was a the Justin Beiber of his time. We fell in love on the playground and after a few weeks of dating -which consisted of swinging where I always beat him because, let's face it, I am a tad competitive and I let me wild side- he asked me to marry him. Unfortunately, I was unready for this leap in relationship seriousness and refused to. With my grade school BFF Bryce, I assaulted Stephen. I actually stuck playground rocks in his mouth, told him no, and ran off to 'date' Bryce on the swings for about one day. I'm pretty sure if Stephen had emotional issues later in life, I was the root of them.

2) Jimmy- In 6th or 7th grade, Jimmy was a hellion. Everyone hated him. The teachers possibly vomited into their trash cans when they saw he was on their roster. Students rolled their eyes and sighed at him. He was the kind of kid that shot spit wads and cursed at teachers. I absolutely despised this kid. We had to sit next to each other in technology class and that was just when I was beginning to write. It was a very angst-ridden time in my life because my current BFF and I got in a fight over something grammatical and stopped talking...Life as a 6/7th grader was serious. Anyway, Jimmy would always pester me and poke me and giggle incessantly whenever he got a rise out of me. He wrote on my book notebook one day and I snapped. I stood on my chair, pointed down at him, and shouted about how he was a horrible person. I then ran to the bathroom to cry. Now that I look back, I realize Jimmy probably had a crush on me and was just being a pain in the ass. He was always nice to me for the rest of my school life even though he hated a lot of other people.

3) Rick- He was a grade or two older than me. We were in middle school when we dated for about a week. When he finally got annoying, I turned and punched him in a hallway. From there, our friendship fizzled. Who would have thought assaulting a boyfriend would end things so harshly? You'd think I'd learned things from my past...

4) Eric- We dated for two weeks Sophomore year. It was over Christmas break though and it didn't last long because he wanted more attention and I was too busy writing and gallivanting around the world exploring life.

5) Tyler- I had a crush on him for the longest time. I thought up this awesome scheme where I would get him to notice me and fall in love. It happened in movies so it would happen to me, right? So the plan went like this; when Valentine's day came, I bought him a secret admirer carnation from our school fundraiser thing and sent it to him. It was so funny to see his face turn red in homeroom when he got it. Everyone started asking him who he thought it was. Even I asked him. Eventually, he caved in and answered my question with a very straight face. Unfortunately, it wasn't me. He thought it was a whole other girl. I got so mad that I shouted it was really me and refused to every date him. Like I said, zero tact.

We'll skip a few here because when I got to college, the two boys I really liked turned out to be serious relationships that were fairly difficult to get over. However, I've been in class with this one boy for a few weeks now and we've been chatting. He lives two houses down from me on my block. Yesterday, he suggested that I come over and have coffee and breakfast with him on his front porch. I said I would think about it.

Everyone whose mother said that to them when they asked for candy knows what that really means. I did not get up early for breakfast with him. I did get up earlier though but only by 3 minutes so I could make a poptart. When I left at the buttcrack of dawn for class, I glanced down the street and saw him sitting on his bench. That's when it dawned on me. My tactless curse with guys had once again come through for me. I felt as if I had stood him up. I lowered my head and hurried across campus hoping he wouldn't see me.

One of these days, I really need to practice my man-attracting skills and get married so he can make me wealthy while I bring home strays and cats and write books I'll never get famous for because no one in my life has time to read them. One day, I will marry a hot rich man.

Pretense

Sometimes, when I'm laying in bed preparing to fall asleep, I'll turn off all the lights, curl up under my covers, and pretend I'm elsewhere. I read my books before going to bed and sometimes I get so wrapped up in the story that I forget that I live in good old Anderson, Indiana. I live elsewhere. I live in a warm house with big windows, pottery barn furniture, tile and wooden floors, big granite countertops, steel appliances, three spacious bedrooms, and a drive-in garage. I let myself think there's a happy dog sleeping on the foot of the bed because he's so exhausted after we visited my sister and played all day. The yard is big and trees rattle around me with their healthy green leaves moving in the wind. Tree frogs croak outside the window while crickets merrily chirp away. The sheets of my bed are cool and relaxing after a long day of teaching and seeing family. Tomorrow, I'm getting up to drink cider and read the daily newspaper while sitting at a dark brown table with four chairs for when I have guests over. I'm so caught up in this pretense that, for a moment, I'm in love with my life. I'm content.

Four Score and Pickle Juice

There are some days where all you can really do is sit back and take it all in. These past two days have been that exact way. I can't even really remember what I did because I was so busy. I had a few major projects due this week that I had to scramble to finish so everything else is already a blur. However, there are a couple stories I remember with ease.

For example, while at work yesterday I heard a great story from my coworker. Apparently, he and his roommate were in the mood for partying so they hiked up their big boy pants and headed out into their apartment. They walked by each door and listened for any loud music. When they found an apartment that had music playing within, they took a deep breath and barged right in without knocking. Into a stranger's home. Without knowing the person. Or knocking. Turns out the major party they thought was going to be inside was really just a group of six or so people playing cards sitting on the floor. How embarrassing is that? And like, who in their right mind seriously barges in on an apartment without knowing anyone? Were they drunk? Can we hope so or should we just leave it at the fact that they're idiots? I think I'll just leave it.

We have a professor here at AU who is the only female in the history department. She's epic. She's badass. She's amazing. Her name is Miss Rogers and she's a ferocious feminist, loves organic food, hates modified food, hates destroying the earth, and loves cursing like a sailor. She's renowned around the history department. Well, I think I'm more like her than I thought I was. In all my classes, my fellow students have been calling me Rogers. It's sticking to me and there is no way I can get away from it. Whenever I say something against norms, go on a rant about the earth, or say something feminist, my classmates sigh rather sarcastically and go, "Okay, Rogers". It's spread. Now other people around campus are calling me it. I think I'll just make that my new name.

I have one class where everyone refers to me as Rogers. It's my once a week evening class on Wednesdays. I gave my history lecture today in that class and it went relatively well considering I put it together an hour before the class began. I need to be even more organized. Anyway, one student did his lecture over the assembly line. As an activity, he set up a table with bread, lunch meat, mayo, pickles, and cheese slices on it. He asked for an activity and because I was making eye contact with him -damn me for trying to be a good student!- he picked me. I had to go up to the table and rush to make the sandwiches as fast as I could. It was DISGUSTING!!! The first time I only made one sandwich in a minute. the second time I got two and a half. After that he had the whole class -all five of us- go and take up position in the assembly line. I had to put the pickles on the sandwiches.

Now if you have never worked an assembly line then let me tell you now that it's not all that great. At least not when you're making sandwiches as a germaphobe. We were rushing so fast that I soon couldn't just pick the pickles off the top of the pickle jar. I had into the stinging pickle juice to get them. Soon enough, I was reaching MY ENTIRE HAND into the jar to pull out the pickles. Let me tell you this; pickle juice is like lemon juice. If you have cuts on your hand, it hurts. A LOT!

Pictures and video of this experience are soon to come.

Anyway, it was a fun activity and I enjoyed it. The class had fun as well and we had a good laugh about it. Afterwards, me and a couple others students went to the Haven and had a fun dinner before going to Mocha Joe's, our coffee shop. Also, while walking from the restroom to the coffee shop, I passed by a guy who walked up to one of the computers in the hall and announced, "Four score and seven years ago!" before working on it. I was the only one in the hallway besides him. It was totally awkward.

Let me just add that after washing and scrubbing my hands four different times, I still have pickle scent wafting off of them....Ew....

Self-Evaluation

I've come to a conclusion. It's not a very extreme one or even a life-changing one. Heck, it isn't really a conclusion. It's more a realization. I was driving on Scatterfield- check here if you don't know about my Scatterfield obsession- when it dawned on me that I've been trying to hide that I was unhappy with my life lately. I'm a real passive-aggressive person. When I'm pissed at someone, I don't say anything but I give them dirty looks and sometimes talk bad behind their backs. I hate confrontation. It gets way too serious and my upbringing has taught me to avoid serious conversation because it's too serious and serious is bad. Well, I guess I'm passive aggressive about life as well. When I'm unhappy I don't tell many people. I keep in it. It remains private and unseen for quite a while until it explodes like an angry beast.

Well, I'm unhappy. I've said it. I finally admitted it. I'm tired of life. Not the suicidal tired-of-life, mind you. Nor is it the depressed tired-of-life. It's more the I'm-tired-of-constant-problems-and-issues tired. I hate change and I get easily overwhelmed. So now that school is different than before and I'm working too much, I'm overwhelmed and upset. The smallest things piss me off. I hit my foot on a thingy in the front room today and got mad. My roommate looked at me like my mom used to when I was in trouble and I got mad. A bird shit on my car and I got mad. Life stinks when you aren't happy.

That also brings me to another aspect of my life that I'm unhappy with. For several years now, I have been agnostic. Four years, to be exact. I think people became so used to the fact that I was agnostic that they kind of gave up on the idea that I would be anything else. Well, this summer things happened in life and I came to realize that I could no longer deny the presence of one great being. I now believe, and I do so fervently! I think people need to realize this too. They need to realize that they can give me religious advice. I still have a lot to figure out about my beliefs but there isn't much I love more right now than to delve into the world of religion and faith. I love my new faith in God and I love the way it makes me feel.

Anyway, away from that tangent! While I am tired of life and at a low point in it, I came to realize on Scatterfield that I need to take a different view of things. I look back on this summer and remember those priceless and indescribable moments where I was in such awe and speechless at the beauty of the world and want nothing more than to go back to those moments. So I made a quick and simple list of things I needed to do from now on. I want to try to find God in the smallest things. I want to see the beauty in the ugly, the light in the cloudy sky. I want to see the simple things around me and value them like I did over the summer. I want to be thankful for what I do have and have faith that what I'm not content with will change one day.

I know this is nothing that I can change overnight. It's not just stuff I want to do. It's stuff I need to work on. Things I want to polish and develop. Like all things, it's a journey and I need to start walking the path there even if it is hard and against everything I'm feeling. I need to make more of an effort to be understanding. I need to remember what it is I love so much about life. I mean, without a goal and without joy in the things around you, how are you supposed to live?

That's exactly what I want to do. I want to live fully and passionately, pursuing my goals and striving for the unknown that rests before me. Today starts a new day and this day will be the first of many.

Memories

Isn't it strange how the human mind can connect a certain area, scent, taste, or item to something in its past? As a slightly impulsive, overly OCD (I'm getting better at touching door handles!!) person, I connect everything from apples to colors to certain things.

For example...

1) Lavender soap- When I was eighteen (I think) I climbed a tree in the woods and jumped off with this grand plan of soaring over the treetops on wings of grandeur and adolescent invincibility. Instead, I crash landed on the logs below and slipped on slow, cracking my forehead open. I had to get stitches -HELL YEAH, STITCHES, I'M NOW BADASS- and it took weeks of healing. The entire time we used lavender soap to clean my head. EVERY DAY. Whenever I smell lavender now I instantly think of agony, blood, and ADOLESCENT ANGST (Strangely enough, the soap at work is blackberry bliss something or other and it brings back the same memory so maybe that soap wasn't lavender).

2) Titanic- The soundtrack, not the movie. When I was young, I used to go south to ride horses with my older sister in the country. I remember hearing the soundtrack for the first time on that trip down to the ranch. Everyone knows that as a child, car rides are extremely long. An hour feels like light-years. Well, hearing that soundtrack for such a long trip imprinted on my mind. Now when I hear the music from the movie, I remember that GIANT hill at the ranch and the long trip down there. Titanic was also the first CD I owned. I blame my sister for instilling this obsessive love for soundtracks in me.

3) My brown comforter- I had a cat for ten years. She was my BFF. At a very angry (and stupid) time of my life, I stayed at my sister's house for a few days only to get a call that my cat was dead. When I came home, she was lying on my brown comforter. We had to wash her blood from that comforter. After that, I bought a new one but when I pulled the brown one out today while the other was in the wash, I still recalled that fateful day that my life began to turn around.

4) Dandelions- When I was little, I used to pretend with my sister that we were dogs, cats, dinosaurs, and Jedi knights. One day, we were adventuring in the backyard. I think our skit that day was something with either dogs or lions and I had crossed her somehow (I probably ate her deer or stepped on the swingset- ENEMY TERRITORY, BABY!!!). She jumped on my and broke my baby tooth. All I remember were bright dandelions around me and HORRIBLE AGONY! Now when I see dandelions for the first time each year I shudder.

Who needs human godsons when you have a face like this to love? This is Abu. He's two close friends' cat and while they're gone for the weekend, he's staying with me in my room. He's adorable, crazy, playful, and soooooo cuddly. I'm now his godmom and he brightens up my world. It's been over a year since I've had a pet and just having a temporary one makes me remember how much I love them. Cats are so happy and goofy. I love having something to be responsible for and worry over besides myself. Now if only he could stay quiet during the night so I could get some sleep :)

It sure is!

I had no idea what the homework really was but all I needed was a reminder to do it.

Negative Nancy

I'm picking up on a pattern here. For a couple days, I don't have homework or financial worries or deadlines to make. It seems I get a break and I start to think that maybe life is slowing down. Then WHAM! A dozen things pop up and I'm running around town like a chicken with its head cut off. I realized today that in my four years of college I've never been as busy and exhausted as I have this semester and I'm still not even a month into the year. No matter how much sleep, I get I'm still drained by the end of the day. No matter how much homework I finish, there's still a ton left. There's always something to do. It's never just 'sit down, relax, laugh, and enjoy things'.

I can almost say that I genuinely despise my life. I may not act like it but I am overall pleased with my life. I love my job, my lessons, my hobbies, and my family. I'm a resilient person and it takes a lot for me to say I'm unhappy. Right now, I can say that. I don't like things. I don't like the fact that work is full of backstabbing, classes are uninteresting, I don't get to see my family or watch my new niece learn to smile and laugh, or that there's no time to just sit down and relax. I absolutely hate that I barely have enough time to read, let alone write. I haven't typed a word of Book 3 even after 3 weeks of waiting to. I get home and I don't have enough energy to create a story. I have the ideas. They're all in my head. I just don't have the means to put them to paper and that is what frustrates me.

I got like this last year around February when I got promoted to manager. I completely fell into a downward spiral. I remember lacking motivation for homework, writing, and life in general. I had to entirely cut writing from the schedule just so I could get homework done. I was so overwhelmed with working full time while also going to school full time that I could barely stay above water. That's how I feel now; like I'm drowning under a giant river. I'm being strangled by everything I'm responsible for and not at all letting up.

However, when I got promoted it took well over a month, maybe even two, before I had adjusted and settled into a new pattern. I'm praying that it's the same this semester. I need the confidence to get over this hurdle and somehow stay on top of things. I just keep reminding myself to be patient and things will eventually fall into place.

Tidbits

Well, the slow first half of my week was, as usual, deceptive. I got an email today saying my student teaching interview was moved from November to the next 2 weeks. I'm now panicking as I rush through the paperwork and struggle to collect everything I need to prepare for it. On the bright side, yesterday I got a free map of Civil War battles, a book about the builders and founders of America, and a history and social issues book from my evening class. I'm definitely excited about the builders of America book but I'm ecstatic about the map! I absolutely love maps and this one is amazing.

I guess you know you're a history major and teacher when you get really giddy about maps and free books :)

I was rifling through some belongings I brought from home when I came across my old notebooks again. I glanced through them and saw ones from Book 2. They are approximately 9 years old! You can tell too...The writing is horrid! In the second paragraph, I spelled leisurely as lesurely. I also used lingo and not in the way that writer's license allows me to. I used it nonchalantly. THE HORROR!!! The pen markings on it were made when I went back after I wrote the book and reread it. It wasn't from now. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I've taken out almost every idea from that page. So much for young writing!

This weekend I'm taking a break from school and going home to hang out with my sisters and madre. I'm pretty excited to just take time and relax but I'm not sure if I'll actually relax. I'm sure I'll sit down to watch television (something I haven't done since Sunday) and feel horrible for not doing something school related. But thus is the life of a college senior and it's back to that life I go!

School

There's something eerily satisfying about writing up my first lesson plan for my classroom. Well, it's not really a lesson plan. It's an early assessment for a social studies or geography class. It outlines the curriculum the class will be following throughout the semester and quickly assesses what the students already know about the subject matter. While I'm a senior in college, this is my first lesson plan. That's kind of sad considering I have yet to be in a classroom in secondary school within my content area and I'm about to graduate. I think that's why I like finishing my lesson plan so much. I'm finally getting a chance to be a teacher and not the student. If only I could finish up the student part right now and jump into the classroom.

Distance

After staying away from Book 2 for a while I returned to it today to read a bit more. As soon as I got to this part, I got wrapped up in the story again. I absolutely love how one part of a book can pull you into the story so you feel like you're actually there, as if you can truly feel the suspense and fear of the characters. Perhaps I like this part because it centers almost entirely around religion. I'm not sure but I know I never get bored of it.

It's the part in Book 2 where the main character Roan comes across the prophet who has the power to change the views and ideals of the religious fanatics he's surrounded by. The prophet throws a curve-ball though. Instead of promoting god, she denounces the god the people worship and accuse them of being heathens who have turned their backs on god.

Game On

If you're bored stiff by my writing rants and pointless rambles, I'd advise you to stop reading while you're still ahead here.

A few weeks back when I was working on the end to Book 2, I came to a part I've been planning for months. It was a really important part for me and I absolutely loved the preparation that went into it. It was a brief chapter than brought the themes of chances and coincidences to an end after discussing them throughout the book. It basically brought the main character to a battle of life or death through a board game. This is a brief glimpse of part of the chapter still in the works.


I spent a month preparing for this one part alone. I read about multiple games played in ancient Rome, Greece, Sparta, and other regions. I played some of these games with history professors and fellow students and read as much as I could about the rest. From there, I went to stores around town and found games that were traditional ones played throughout history. I spent a week examining Mancala and Memory. When it finally came time for my game, I created it with an aspect of those two games in it. It had the turning of cards aspect of memory in it and the chance of Mancala. The game was to be entirely unpredictable and relied only on chance. There was absolutely no skill in it. You couldn't practice and get better at it. You had only to trust chance. I absolutely fell in love with it. I even play it in my free time now. The game was made even more interesting by throwing a Spartan aspect to it by playing by high stakes. In Book 2, the stakes were nations' futures. In my games, it's usually dessert or extra homework time.

Perhaps when I have more time and feel less inclined to stop blogging and instead read or write, I'll share the game and write out a step by step game-plan to it. Until then, I'll just spend my time playing the game and listening to my new favorite artist, Two Steps From Hell.