Hiatus.

I've been spending far too much time on the internet lately, so I'm going to take a break for a while. I'll probably peek at Facebook once a day, but other than that I'm dropping off the radar. My internet use is going to be limited to school-related browsing. I need this. The internet has been eating up my time. I've forgotten what it feels like to be taken over by a book. I need to rediscover that and rediscover the world outside my screen.

There's more to life than this.

For now, ciao.

Listening to: The Rocketeer
Reading: The Buddha of Suburbia

Week in review.

Monday was fabulous. I put off my Spanish homework to go to FHE, and I'm so glad I did. The activity was a crazy don't-get-tagged dash with swords made out of PVC pipe and pool noodles. Dessert was root beer floats. After the activity, one of the guys made a ball out of his sock and some duct tape and an impromptu, teamless, makeshift baseball game commenced. I actually think it was better than the planned activity. While I didn't play myself, I had a blast watching. Someone even got up and started comedically announcing the plays.

Tuesday I stayed after school, ostensibly to study Latin with a friend. We mostly just ended up chatting. It was wonderful. I don't get enough sophisticated discourse in my life.

Wednesday just continued the goodness. I hung out with the Magnificent after school. We went to her apartment and four of us girls watched How to Train Your Dragon. It felt so good to get thoughts and feelings out that I haven't had the opportunity to express for some time. Sometimes you just need to look a friend in the eye and bare your soul. Of course, the conversation degenerated into us comparing our feet, but that's what's marvelous about friends like her. Anything is fair game.

Today was the first Thursday to officially be just for dad and me. We watched HP6, had root beer floats (I snagged leftover ingredients on Monday), and played a couple games of chess. It was nice. I love spending time with him.

Listening to: "Bohemian Rhapsody" by The Muppets
Reading: Language Awareness

Bum-scooching.

There was no school yesterday in honor of Veterans Day, so I slept in to a ridiculous hour and then whiled away the time until I met my friends for a night of awesome. Fortunately for NaNoWriMo, that whiling away included working on my novel. Unfortunately for the same, I've been neglecting said novel for a good week and my word count is laughably low. As in, it's nearly the end of week two and I just barely topped the word count goal for day one. It's all good. Steady on, men.

At 4 PM I met my friends B. and C., and we went to an antique book store and tried not to drool on some pretty amazing tomes. We all completed an exercise in self-restraint and walked out of there with no more than we'd taken in. Next came Panda Express.

Eventually, we met up with some other people and went to a drive-in theater. We saw a double feature of Shrek Forever After and Megamind. I enjoyed both, though the latter a bit more so. It was tremendous. We completely picked the wrong time of year to go. It was quite cold. Granted, it's better than most parts of the country, but it still wasn't the best weather to be sitting around in lawn chairs.

I spent most of today helping out with the Fall Forum, which was an event for high schoolers hosted by the Classics department (think Latin and ancient Greek). It was nice. I didn't really do much more than set up and take down, but it was relaxing to just chill in the SS Atrium all day. It helped that I had a good friend there to chat with.

This evening B. came over to watch some premieres on Disney Channel because we're both 12 and proud of it. I've been referring to it as Gregg Sulkin Night. Avalon High was spectacular! The names were especially clever and some of the plot twists were admirably twisty. I did not see that coming. It's definitely something I would buy. I suppose since I loved the movie so much, it's time to read the book. Sorry, Meg Cabot. School takes up a lot of time, you know?

After the fabulous movie, the season premiere of Wizards of Waverly Place was a wee bit of a let down. Still, all in all a grand night. I think I made a wise decision in topping it off with rewatching all of Alex Reads Twilight.

Listening to: Alex Reads Twilight

Reading: A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh

Expecto patronum.

Let me just get this out. This is my blog, and I can rant like a crazy person if I want to.

To the guy who tried to asked me to see HP7 with him tonight: let me tell you a few things.

1. You've admitted that you've never read the books and that you haven't even seen all of the movies. No. Just no.

2. When a I am trying to inform you gently that I don't want to go see HP7 with you, the correct response is not to tell me that I just must not be a big enough Harry Potter fan. For starters, see point one. Then lets take into consideration that I first started reading HP when I was 7. That means I've been involved with it for more than half my life. Heck, I've known Harry, Ron, and Hermione longer than my best friend. My love affair with HP started about 10 minutes after I started reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I remember what I ate for dinner that night. I loved HP before most of my peers had even heard of it. Don't talk about things you can't even begin to fathom.

3. When I say that I'm funny about movies, the correct response is not, "Oh, yeah, sure." After I see a movie for the first time, I like to be left alone. When I say alone, I mean talk to me and die. I have trouble remembering any movie after which someone hasn't asked me whether something was wrong. After I see a movie, I am lost in a place in my mind where no one can follow. This is a state of mind that should not be disturbed, especially by awkward first date conversation.

4. If you think I'm funny about just any movie, imagine how much worse I am when that movie is one of the last installments in a film franchise based on a book series that has been an integral part of most of my life. If you had trouble wrapping your mind around point two, just try to get it around this one. I dare you.

5. I do not want HP7 to forever be associated with you or any other guy.

6. Even if you didn't see it, I'm sure you heard at some point about the CES fireside in which an apostle of the Lord told the YSAs of the Church that people shouldn't go to the movies on dates until they're, you know, married. Something about it being a horrible situation for conversation, thus for getting to know people, and in a dark and just generally not wise place to be in such a scenario.

So, no. No, I will not go to HP7 with you. Not in this existence.

Listening to: YouTube
Reading: A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh

Impresario.

Sometimes I'll say to myself, "What am I doing? I'm not trying to impress anyone." Mostly this occurs while I'm deciding what to wear. Well, it's a lie.

True, most of the time I don't really try to impress people with the way I dress, but sometimes I actually do. Why am I lying to myself?

Appearances may not be supreme to me, but that doesn't mean I'm not trying to impress anybody. Although I try to deny it and convince myself otherwise, appearances do matter to me. More than that, though, I'm guilty of trying to impress people on a deeper level. There are times when I say nothing because I am afraid of saying the wrong thing. Other times, I look back on conversations I've just had and wonder whether I totally flubbed the situation.

Why would I care if I wasn't trying to make a good impression? It's time I acknowledged this.

I don't yet know what application admitting this to myself will have, but I think it's important to be honest with myself. I'll figure out what to do with that honesty later.

Listening to: Frank Sinatra
Reading: A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh

Serious thoughts.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how I want to be.

Listening to: Frank Sinatra
Reading: A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh

Unnormalcy.

I feel I should mention Monday before it slips from my mind into oblivion.

It all started when I stopped by Grandpa's after school to deliver his mail. I had to wait around for a good 20 minutes while his girlfriend showed off her turtle, then as I was trying to leave they invited me out to lunch.

They suggested going to KFC, so I started following them in my own truck, planning on going straight home afterwards. Not far into our journey, it happened that there were two vehicles in front of me that looked pretty much the same, one being my grandpa's and the other being very much, well, not. Eventually one turned and the other didn't. I chose to stick with the wrong one. Also, it turns out that there really is no KFC to be found where Google Maps thought there should be one.

Finally my grandpa got in touch with me. Apparently he had to go all the way back home to get his cellphone because he'd forgotten it. We went to the Big Apple for lunch instead. Grandpa's girlfriend talked pretty much the entire time and kept hitting on the waiter who, at the end of the meal, turned to me and said, "This may be kind of strange, but I think you're really cute and I'd like to take you out sometime. Can I have your phone number?" Wow, dude. You get mad props for being the first guy to straight up ask me for my number. We have a tentative date set for Tuesday.

I went straight from dinner to K.'s so that we could work on our novels for NaNoWriMo together. On the way, a car in front of me plowed right through a flock of pigeons that was sitting in the middle of the road. Most of them flew away in time, but one of them took a major hit. The car just zoomed on through the explosion of feathers, but I was totally unnerved by the poor little body falling back to the road. I seriously considered stopping, but I didn't know what I could do. I just kept going. It was so sad.

FHE that night was a post-Halloween dance. It was totally awesome. There were some great costumes. My favorites were all four Ninja Turtles, Sean Connery, and Quail Boy. There was also a girl dressed like a lemonade stand. My old home teacher gained instant popularity by dressing up as Justin Bieber. I wasn't really a fan.

At last I fell into bed with worn-out shins that were already promising to ache by Tuesday.



Listening to: "I Like It" by Enrique Iglesias
Reading: The Return of the Soldier by Rebecca West

Circadian.

Well, huh. This is unusual. It's before 8 AM on a Saturday and I'm up, quite willingly I might add.

Actually, I first kind of woke up around 6:15, when my weekday alarms usually start going off. Since I didn't go to bed until midnight (I was playing with my Kindle), I decided that wasn't enough sleep, so back I went to La Tierra de los Sueños. The next time I woke up, the sun was streaming through my east-facing window. The birds are singing. I can hear my Dad on the phone. Almost eight hours is much better. I briefly considered going back to sleep again, but why? I'm not really tired. I got a good amount of sleep. Why not get up?

So I did. I am. It's surreal.

Fun tidbit, since I've decided to continue with Latin for the next few years. I hope it can find its way in with my two majors. I would love it if it could. Psh! what am I talking about? I would love this information anyway. It's that whole etymology thing again. Circadian, as in circadian rhythm, comes from Latin circa, meaning around, and diem, meaning day. So, around a day.

Another interesting, and possibly useful thing to know, is that in Roman times, only men and prostitutes wore actual togas. Women wore other garments. Single women wore either a peplos or a chiton, while wives wore something called a stola. Good information to have if you ever find yourselves time travelling.

Listening to: birds singing
Reading: The Red House Mystery by A. A. Milne

Accomplishments.

A few highlights, since my week felt like too much at the time for me to want to squeeze blogging in.

First, Conference last weekend was grand. Plus, I made serious progress on a quilt while I was watching. It even turns out that we own an iron, which is great. I'm a big fan of ironing seams open for neatness when stitching various parts together, and by "big fan" I mean I'm a little obsessive about it. This iron exceeds all expectations. It's a beast. I'm guessing it's older than me, but if not, it's at least not from this millennium.

Last Saturday, I also went out to dinner with Dad and company. Halfway through my chimichanga at Matta's, the doors opened like the parting of the Red Sea and the children of Israel crossed in. Men in suits and boys in dress shirts stood four abreast from the counter to the sidewalk. I thought I recognized the missionaries who showed up, but I didn't ask them how the Priesthood session was, though I kind of wanted to. Still, it was pretty awesome seeing the flood of priesthood holders wash in.

Wednesday was a rather splendid day. After dollar-lunch at the Institute (ginormous burritos and a variety of ice creams, including a delicious rainbow sherbet), I stayed on campus later than usual to talk to a teacher and then to go to an information meeting for people who want to study abroad. The meeting was pretty sweet, and I got a bit of a nap in beforehand in a chair outside the study abroad office. I'm pretty sure some people in the office across the way were staring at me, and it wasn't the most comfortable seat, but hey. Sleep is sleep. For the first part of the meeting, I was the only one there, which was nice. I had the two peer advisors all to myself. Another guy eventually showed up, but we're both interested in going to Spain, so the conversation didn't fly off in any new directions. After the meeting, it was late enough that I didn't feel like fighting the beginnings of rush hour traffic to merge onto the freeway, so I took the arterial streets home. It was nice and relaxing. The weather was amazing! I had my wipers on full blast to see through the rain, but the skies were still blue. Eventually I got out from under the rain and  rolled the window down. I drove down the pretty, downtown-ish part of Main St., which includes the temple, all the while enjoying a Mexican radio station I found that plays a bunch of dance music. Shakira, Shakira! The next part of Main was semi-flooded, which I found awesome and hilarious. I love seeing water split around the front of an SUV as if it were the prow of a ship. Sadly, I was in the entirely wrong lane going the wrong way to splash through too many small ponds myself. After the amphibious blocks, there was some construction. What a day to drive down that road, huh? I was enjoying the experience so much, and was so much stunned by the revelation that there was an Arby's on Main St., that I didn't even realize I had passed my turn until the style of the street signs changed and I was suddenly in a 50 MPH zone. Most ironically, the Arby's is on the corner where I needed to turn and is a place I've actually eaten before. Go figure. When I finally got home and stepped out of my truck, I decided that the day was just too fine and the concrete just too perfect after the rain. I decided to kick my shoes off so my feet could enjoy the gorgeous circumstances. I was attempting to just kick them as close as I could get to the door, but the first one went a mite higher than I expected and landed on the roof. Which I found just too funny. I can't remember, but I may have even gone down the street to check the mail before I tried to retrieve it. I was a little worried about the rescue mission at first, but once I realized we don't have rain gutters, it all fell into place quite neatly. After several attempts at throwing the hose, I managed to hook it behind the flipflop and just drag it off. It's not right how proud that made me feel of myself.

I had a paper due Friday in Brit lit, so Thursday was a little busy for me. I honestly meant to start it on Wednesday, but I just kind of crashed that afternoon after all the excitement of the day. Thursday's was an evening of procrastination. After straightening my clutter and reorganizing my bookshelves, I finally sat down to my paper. In a strange turn of events, I finished it. True, it was around 1 AM, but I'm just too thrilled that it was the proper length and everything to mind about that. That's actually earlier than I decided I could stay up in the event of a worst case scenario. I'm a little worried that I might've gotten too plot summary-ish there at the end, but it's too late to worry about it now. It's out of my hands.

My Latin and English tests yesterday went well. The woman overseeing the English test didn't even care whether we used our notes. Really. She would bring it up from time to time. I was a little worried about Latin, since I didn't make my note cards until earlier that morning, but there were only a few words I was unsure of, and checking later, I only got one of them wrong. Apparently "vix" means "scarecly" and not "since." But I'm sure the bonus more than made up for that. I wasn't really worried about the English test. Basically, if you spoke English natively, you should've been able to wing most of it. The other parts I wasn't too worried about because they were concepts that either were common sense or were covered in my intro to linguistics last semester.

Yesterday, I watched nine straight hours of Wizards of Waverly Place. It was awesome. Okay, so I'm twelve, but it wasn't a completely wasted day. I did a load of laundry, and most shockingly, I cleaned my bathtub. That deserves more than just boldface. It should have some sort of fanfare, a parade maybe, a blimp flashing the message, perhaps an international ad campaign. I've spared you to avoid being ostentatious. It's like a whole new tub. I was going to feel a little bad about not doing any homework, but this just makes it all better. I feel so accomplished.

Listening to: "A Year Without Rain" by Selena Gomez
Reading: Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

Drudgery.

I feel like I should share a little something, even though I have nothing new to share. Life goes on. Latin goes on. Spanish goes on. English goes on. You know, the usual.

My days are spent with school, homework, and napping.

But I love it. Even if it is lonely at times.

Listening to: The Mummy Returns
Reading: The Phantom of the Opera

Doodlies.

I just can't stop making new blogs, can I? Here I've gone and made another over at Tumblr. Though admittedly, it's for a specific purpose. A lot of artists have blogs where they post works in progress and doodles and such. Well, I wanted one, too. I've sort of been experimenting with doing that a little here, but I don't like that it's all mixed up with my this-is-how-my-day-went posts. Furthermore, I like the sheer simplicity of posting over at Tumblr.

So, if you want to see what would be commonly known as my "sketch blog," mosey on over.

Listening to: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Reading: The Phantom of the Opera
Reading for class: North and South

Update.

Ugh. Since school started, I've sort of tapered off all internet activity except Facebook and deviantART. I just don't feel like I have time for everything. Even that comparatively little time wasted comes with no lean share of guilt for neglecting homework. It's not just that I've stopped posting, such as here, but I've even stopped my faithful reading of other's posts.

It's sad, but true, that I just don't have the time. Sometimes I'll think that I'll get caught up on the recent activity when the weekend comes around, but I never do.

But there is light in the darkness. One happy side effect is that instead of spending my spare time on the internet, getting lost in chains of links for hours, I've started reading like I once did. While this means that you're not hearing from me as much, it also means that I'm feeling like myself again. It has worried me for quite some time that I haven't been able to focus on books like I used to do. For months, possible a year or more, I've had to reread things, bogging down my reading experience and making it distasteful and drawn out. That seems to have mostly cured itself. It still occurs sporadically, but rarely. I think part of the antidote was my British lit. class. Instead of using an anthology, our teacher chose to focus on longer works. The novels we've been reading and the time constraints I've had on getting through them have refocused me and I now find myself getting through personal reading better. It definitely helps that I am thoroughly enjoying all of our assignments for class.

I have also worked through the anxiety of my Spanish major. I have decided to keep it, but to switch the track from linguistics to literature, a move that I think will be both less stressful and more enjoyable. I am also going to seriously look into doing a study abroad next summer. I'm going to schedule appointments with the appropriate people and fill out the appropriate paperwork. My desired destination is Leon, Spain, where, if all goes well, I will spend four weeks and take a literature class and a culture class. I prefer Spain over anywhere in Latin America because they use verb tenses and such that aren't commonly heard in this hemisphere. And besides, where better to learn Spanish than Spain?

I've also had some sort of nasty sore throat/head cold going on this weekend. It started about Wednesday with a sore throat, which worsened to the point of painful speech on Thursday. By Friday, the sore throat had slackened off, but the ailment had worked its way upward, resulting in a debilitating headache on Saturday and an annoyingly runny nose.

But I got my Kindle, so it's all good. All 14 of Baum's Oz books? 95 cents.

Listening to: Cardinal's game
Reading: The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux
Reading for class: North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

Colorado.

I've meant to blog about my Labor Day weekend in Colorado, but school overpowered me and now I feel like I've lost the will (not to mention like I can't spare the time) to write a long narrative about it.

You've already heard me enumerate my love of the Rockies, so I suppose I can skip that part. Imagine me reiterating it, though. And add some love for the way those coniferous woods feel in the early morning, when it's light out but the sun isn't quite up.

We (Dad, his girlfriend, and her kids) went up there to see my brother and his family. My nieces are so adorable! They both have the hugest blue eyes. They started out quite shy, but by the end of the weekend and after half an hour of my drawing Sesame Street characters, the oldest had really warmed up to me. I'll admit it was a little surreal to be referred to as Aunt Rebekah.

My brother and sister-in-law really enjoyed seeing all of us, too. They told me covertly that they would especially enjoy it if I came up to visit them by myself sometime. Am I going to take them up on that offer? You bet I am!

Apparently we took the long way there. The GPS said it was the shorter route, but it had to have been referring to how the crow flies. There were so many hills it added four hours to the trip. On the way home we took all interstates. It would've been shorter if we hadn't broken down an hour from home. Good thing my dad's a mechanic. He fixed it with a staple and some radio wire and we were home free. Still, I think I prefer the long scenic route. It's that love of mountains again.

To make this post any more disjointed I would have to bring up the fact that I seem to have stumbled upon a recent dinosaur obsession, which manifests itself in the purchase of dinosaur shaped sprinkles and dinosaur egg oatmeal. Speaking of, I wish I could've gone to the dinosaur museum in my brother's town. Next time, maybe.

On another side note, I've ordered one of the new Amazon Kindles. I've been wary of the whole eReader scene, but I was thinking about it and I came to the conclusion that the power to carry 3,500 books around with me in a space the size of a small notebooks is kind of an exhilarating prospect. A lot of classics (my favorite genre) are completely free on the Kindle, so I would be able to delve into the list of old books I would love to read with relative ease. New books on the Kindle are noticeable cheaper than their tangible counterparts. My logic is I can read books on the Kindle, then if I decide I can't live without them and I have to have a hard copy, I can spend a little extra and get a hard copy. Another thing about the Kindle is it will be easier to travel with. Instead of carefully arranging my volumes in my backpack so as to offer each the maximum protection while still maximizing on space, I can leave my precious paperbacks and home and just slip the Kindle in instead. I can also put the scriptures on it, so I could take it to church instead of lugging my full-size quad around. Man, just talking about it is making it sound better and better.

Listening to: Bones
Reading: Aurora Leigh by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Primary.

I forgot to mention that on Monday we sang "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" in my 300-level college class. Could this school be any greater?

Listening to: "Objection" by Shakira
Reading: The Truth About Forever

Mellowocity.

I'm slowly learning the delicate and graceful art of finding beauty in the small things.

Sunday, in addition to seeing a coyote, I pushed my small cousins on a swing-set. I've always been timid around children, but I'm surprising myself at how quickly I'm learning to love their company. I love talking to them and listening to them talk. I especially loved it when we all broke out singing "Airplanes" by B.o.B. Even 3-year-old Connor was singing.

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now."

Yesterday I stayed too late at FHE, but I made some new friends and got to socialize with some old ones, so I think it was worth it. I did have to stay up far later than desirable doing homework, which I wasn't able to finish before going to sleep. Consequently, I woke up late this morning. Things worked out quite nicely, though. I even managed to finish all of my reading before the appointed classes.

What could have been hectic and disgruntled quickly turned into a wonderful day. Nothing changed to make it so but me.

I also got a lovely surprise when I checked the mail yesterday. A little something I ordered for myself had arrived!

I'm slowly learning that delicate and graceful art.

I feel rather marvelous.

Listening to: "Such Great Heights" by Iron & Wine

Reading: Pride & Prejudice

Trickster.

I saw a coyote today.

Listening to: Ella Enchanted
Reading: Pride and Prejudice

Rainbows.

I did laundry today, but not as much of it as I would've liked. It started raining in the afternoon and I had to rush everything inside, which greatly decreased my drying space. I believe an appropriate euphemism for this would be that the weather "threw a wrench in the works."

The rain was lovely, though. I think it's just the most gorgeous thing when in rains with the sun out.

K. rode her bike through the rain to hang out with me. We had a marvelous little adventure through Walmart looking for glow-in-the-dark stars. We ended up finding them at Michael's. While we were driving around, we rolled the windows down and marveled at the lightning lighting the clouds up from within.

Back at my house, we chatted and read some poetry. She's asleep on my floor now.

Listening: "Please Don't Go" by Barcelona
Reading: Pride and Prejudice

Serendipity.

Today I laid on the grass and looked up at the clouds. I splashed through puddles barefoot, including one magnificent pounce with both feet. I drove home through the city with the windows down and a splendid little breeze blowing by. I caught sprinkled rain drops on my hand. I saw a power chair in the bike lane with a passenger on the back. The lights all turned green right as I pulled up to them. The mail arrived just as I was pulling into the driveway.

If I were any mellower, you could toast me and stick me on a graham cracker.

Listening: "Little Red Corvette"
Reading: Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne

Exhaustion.

This college stuff is time-consuming.

Listening to: "Whenever, Wherever" by Shakira
Reading: Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne

Man in maroon.

I finally got something I've been wanting for a long time: a graphics tablet. This is my first real journey into its use. I'm still figuring everything out, and I have a very long way to go before I'll be on the same level as my heroes, but it's a start.

Listening to: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Reading: Jurassic Park

Overload.

When I was signing up for this semester's classes, I brilliantly scheduled almost everything back to back. Resultantly, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I don't have a break until I get home around 2:30 or 3. This does not bode well for my tummy and its grumbliness. Count on me to not consider lunch because I'm too excited about my classes.

Monday-Wednesday-Friday is a little better.

To tide me over during my long, grueling days, Dad and I picked up some granola bars.

But hunger isn't going to be my only problem. In one respect, scheduling my Spanish classes next to each other is a good thing. I don't have to pull myself out of a Spanish mindset just to turn around and try to get back into one. I can just keep thinking Spanish continuously. On the other hand, I'm not at a level yet where it isn't mentally exhausting to try to keep up with a fluent Spanish teacher for three hours. My literature teacher isn't so bad. I don't think she's a native speaker. She's from Michigan and of Italian descent. She almost speaks slow enough for me to catch everything. I do catch most of it. However, my conversation and composition teacher will be another matter. She's Cuban. Her Spanish is a little too fast for me right now. But I suppose I'll get used to it.

I'm really excited for tomorrow. Fridays are the days I can reasonably expect mail from my friends. Additionally, I should have a package arriving tomorrow. A package which I am eagerly awaiting.

Listening to: Sherlock Holmes
Reading: Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Symbiotic.

I went to a free concert with my cousin.

She's a huge Dierks Bentley fan. I was actually rather indifferent about going, but I thought she would enjoy it. And hey, free concert! She couldn't just go because it was thrown by my school and you needed a student I.D. to get in, plus one guest.

To get there we braved a monsoon that kept coming and going. Her road was completely submerged. The only reason she got out was that her family owns a suburban. Since I haven't actually driven Serafine in the rain before, I stayed off the highway as we forayed through the gale and to the light rail station. I figured we could park there for free and pay a few dollars to use it and we wouldn't have to worry about finding parking at the university.

Outside, there were people giving away promotional stuff, like pretzel M&Ms and Target gift cards and slap bracelets advertising a textbook rental site. Wait, slap bracelets? Yes. Terrible, I know. If you're going to try to bring a fad like that back, don't attempt it at a college. Go stand outside a middle school

There were only two artists on the bill: Dierks Bentley and Chingy. I don't know who thought that one up, but either they were trying to draw in a more diverse crowd or they were abusing some restricted substance.

Chingy opened. Do I have any idea what his songs were about? No. No I don't. I only caught phrases here and there, mostly involving him trying to pump up different sides of the stadium. He did have some amusing introductions to his songs, though. For one he was telling people about what they would need to get into his after party. 1. Be 18. 2. Be 21 to drink. 3. If you're a lady, bring 4, 5, 6 of your friends. Cue song. I'm sure it would make more sense if you were familiar with his work. I am not. Still entertaining, though. He also told a story about how he forgot to bring socks on the trip, so he went to Target, and while he was there, a little girl went up to him. As he looked around for her parents, he asked her what was hanging. She said that her mom said he was the guy that did some song. Then he performed that song. Are these true stories? Your guess is as good as mine. Also, one of the guys who was singing back up for him was wearing a Tootsie Pop shirt. I thought that was cool.

But not as cool as the kid in the audience who was wearing a shirt in the style of those Obama election posters that was a picture of Admiral Akbar that said TRAP underneath. Yeah, I got a picture.

After Chingy was done rapping or whatever, Dierks Bentley came on, which I found a little more bearable, but it still wasn't my favorite thing in the world. He did have a few songs that I recognized, to my pleasant surprise. They were even songs I kind of liked. I'm still not a general fan of modern country. With the exception of Taylor Swift.

One thing I did really like was how Mr. Bentley interacted with the audience. He gave a lot of high fives to the people at the front of the pit. He often held the mic out to the crowd. He borrowed a few people's baseball caps. He told us stories about when he used to live here. Apparently he grew up in this area. His parents were actually at the concert, which I thought was kind of cool. He even pointed them out to everybody at one point. That's just awesome, when you're playing a concert for a huge crowd of college kids and you invite your parents. That's love.

During some of the songs, there were people swing dancing.

I think my favorite part was while he was singing some song about love and breakups, and he was leaning close to a girl in the front row. He stopped and said, "This is kind of awkward. I don't even know your name." He held the microphone out to her and she said, "I'm Erica." "Hi, I'm Dierks. I have to go." Then he got up and moved to a different part of the stage. I found it hilarious.

Then again, I'm easily entertained.

But I think it's awesome to see a performer who knows how to interact with a crowd. When they joke and talk and give the audience a chance to shine, it energizes the audience. The more energetic an audience is, the better the entertainer is going to perform. The better they perform, the more the audience gets out of it. It's a circular dependency.

It's fascinating to see it work.

Listening to: "In the Middle" by Jimmy Eat World
Reading: Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Kool-aid.

On Sunday I was mixing up drinks for family dinner. I glanced at the instructions for the drink mix and began laboriously measuring out 16 scoops for my gallon of water. I was advised that I should add a few extra or it would be a little weak. That brought my total up to 18. Then I read the package more carefully.

Amount of water: 1 gallon
Servings: 16
Scoops: 8

Oops.

At least I didn't fling Parmesan cheese everywhere like Anne did when she shook it and the lid wasn't as closed as she thought.

Listening to: The Guild
Reading: Jurassic Park

Socializing.

Yesterday, after finally resuming work on my room and scrubbing all of the grossness off of the stove top, I went out with the ladies of my family. We all went to a barbecue place for dinner then caught a 9:30 showing of Eat, Pray, Love. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I also got a tuition refund check in the mail yesterday, so I went with my dad to open a bank account. I intend to leave most of it sitting there, but I will indulge myself a little. I've always wanted a graphics tablet. Well, here's my chance.

Listening to: "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)"
Reading: Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Out on the town.

On Wednesday K. and I went on an adventure. In the morning, we took her dog Haley to the dog park to burn off some of her excess energy. We discovered that she, like many dogs I've known, likes attacking bubbles. In the afternoon, we hopped on the lightrail and rode down to Mill Ave. K. had never been there before. It was even more exciting than usual, watching someone experience it for the first time. Man, I love that place.

Listening to: The Sons of Katie Elder
Reading: Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Alteration.

While I still check other blogs daily, I keep forgetting to post here. Whoops.

Well, our bishopric changed. Our new bishop is our old high council member, so that's pretty awesome. And he managed to get the stake to let us keep the Randalls with Brother Randall as the new executive secretary. I'm already becoming fond of the new counselors, too.

FHE last night was some pretty creative getting-to-know-you activities. For one we sat in a circle with people we hopefully didn't know and went around the circle adding parts to a made-up dream using everyone's names.

Super soft cookies for refreshments.

Listening to: North and South
Reading: Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Canvas.

I hung out with K. again yesterday. I'm quite thrilled that we're friends. I found Waldo while she registered for college courses, then we had a lovely little adventure at Staples.

We spent the evening watching 13 Going on 30. While that was on, I worked on sketching out a future painting on the loose sheets of canvas I got for Christmas. I thought it was a pad of paper, but when I opened it up the other day, it turns out that they're actually sheets of canvas cloth "acrylic primed for use with any medium." Which turns out to be even cooler than it sounds. K.'s dogs were rough-housing with each other and bumped into the coffee table, spilling water all over my drawing. Her mom was freaking out, worrying about it being ruined, but it turns out that acrylic primed canvas for use with any medium is a magical, magical thing. The water poured right off when I picked it up. It didn't even smudge the pencil. Not a run, not a wet spot, not a wrinkle. The force is strong with this one.

I also downloaded a bunch of fun stuff for my phone last night. Now I get alerts whenever an earthquake is recorded anywhere in the world. I have a lightsaber and a program that makes a plethora of Star Wars sounds that I have the option of making ringtones. I have a game wherein I bounce a cow up platforms in an attempt to save my friends from aliens in UFOs. My favorite: my new text alert is Navi from the Legend of Zelda yelling, "Listen!"

Listening to: "Cry For You" by September
Reading: Beauty by Robin McKinley

Hellos, goodbyes.

On Sunday, it was announced that our bishopric will formally be released next week. It's one of the best bishoprics I've ever seen, and that opinion is widely shared, so naturally it was a sad day for all. The bishopric themselves, and their sweet wives, are feeling it perhaps deeper than the rest of us. Post-church was a festival of hugs and fond goodbyes.

A measure of those six wonderful people's caliber is this: when I hugged them and shook their hands and started to tell them how much I loved them and would miss them, I discovered that instead they were drawing me close and whispering in my ear how wonderful I was and how much they would miss me.

Oh, how I miss them already.

To the Mathesons, to the Randalls, to the Phelps: you're something else. <3

Last night I went to a birthday party for someone I'd never actually met. We have a mutual friend back in the Midwest, and since K. doesn't know anyone here, she was advised to look me up on Facebook. I'm so glad she did. She and her friends are a spectacular mixture of sweet and entertaining. I went to the mall with them today and had oodles of fun. Stops included a used bookstore (loot: The Once and Future King, Jurassic Park; total: $2.18), a pet shop, a kitchen store (one of the girls is a chef), The Cheesecake Factory (their food is mind-blowing), and the $2 movie theater. It turns out it was $1 Tuesday. Lucky us, eh? We proudly sallied forth, the only four people without young 'uns seeing How To Train Your Dragon at 2:35.

Listening to: The Shootist
Reading: Beauty by Robin McKinley

Soul soup.

Thursday saw the end of my arduous journey through Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal. It's odd how a book can have the same plot, the same dialogue, the same descriptions, but put it in another language and suddenly it feels like a new story.

Yesterday I read The Tale of Despereaux. I absolutely loved it.

Today I finally saw Big Jake. I now understand why people say it is one of John Wayne's best movies. And Patrick Wayne looks doofy with a mustache.

Listening to: Big Jake
Reading: Beauty: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast by Robin McKinley

Mais.

A few days ago I decided on a name for the pickup. I figured I would keep with tradition and make it female, but I wanted to give it a good, strong name since it's a truck.

I chose Serafine, after a character from that beloved webcomic, Lackadaisy. I think a strong arm for a speakeasy is a worthy namesake. Not wimpy at all. No, seriously. She's not.

Listening to: Wizards of Waverly Place
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Friends.

Every now and then a conversation comes along that just makes people stop and look back at its progress in amazement. These are the conversation that you almost wouldn't believe had really happened, except you were there and you were witness to it. These conversations leave you perplexed. They change tones like a radio set to scan.

Like the one I had tonight. I'll leave the segues up to your imagination, but it went a little something like this:
1. Quads
2. Southern belles
3. Star Trek
4. The development of modern sci-fi
5. Lost (the show)

It will go down in history. At least now that I've blogged about it.

I also made a new friend today. Her name is Emmi and she's an adorable little toddler. She's young enough that she only pronounces partial words. I don't know what I did, but she came to me almost as often as she went to Anne, who watches her once a week. Yeah, we're pals. Which is more than I can say for one of the guys over at Anne's tonight. Every time Emmi looked at him she started crying.

Listening to: "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic"
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Vroom.

My dad's friend owns a truck, a nice little S-10 (whatever that means). He's also not using it. So he has graciously decided to lend it to me so that it's not sitting idle accumulating sand.

I'm rather excited about this. So far I've driven it around some this evening, and I'm already falling in love with it and figuring out its quirks.

My first order of business (well, second. I've already programmed the radio) will be to christen it. The way I see it, I have options. It's white, so I can play with that. Or it has a tendency to squeal the tires if you take off any rougher than you would hold a baby. It's also got to have some sort of stealth mode or something, because I can't for the life of me figure out whether the engine is running or not until I put it into gear. There is negative sound from the engine. That's right. It absorbs the stuff.

The first idea that popped into my head was Tremaine, but I really don't think that's going to work for a truck. Though it might. I have a tendency to stick a "Lady" in front of it, though, and that definitely wouldn't work. My second thought was The Howling Screamer, for the way it takes off. Though the engine has that ninja thing going on. Decisions, decisions.

Listening to: "Paparazzi" by Lady Gaga
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Piano.

I've mostly just been zonking out or working on my room lately, so instead of over-described anecdotes, I leave you with this:

Listening to: "Jar of Hearts"
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Brelly.

Since I slept for most of the day, I don't really have much to say. Instead, I'm going to share a picture I doodled mid to late second semester.

Listening to: "Do You Wanna Date My Avatar?"
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Football.

I didn't really pay attention to the World Cup at all while it was going on. I watched part of the USA game versus Ghana and I watched a Lego recap of the US goal against England. Other than that, I mostly forgot it was going on.

But I decided a week or so ago that I was going to care who won the final. It just so happened that my favorite Spanish-speaking country made it to the match, so naturally I rooted for them. If neither of the final teams had spoken Spanish, I definitely would've rooted for the Netherlands based on the sole fact that one of my favorite artists is from there and she was rooting for them. My alliance is weak.

As it was, I made sure to remind myself every so often over the past few days that the end was near.

This morning I tuned in to the pre-game show and watched avidly as the chummers on the TV discussed soccer, which basically meant that most of the conversation went over my head. I was rather awed by the footage of the Dutch cross-continent caravan. That's a lot of orange. I was equally floored by the shots of Amsterdam and the veritable sea of people, no hyperbole.

Their bright colors and terrific dedication could not sway me, however. I'm rather partial to Spain, having been there once and having watched the only real football game I've ever watched there. Now I kind of wish it had been a real, live match, but naw. I watched a Barcelona vs. Italy match on a TV at a bar-type place. I really think that if I ever got into watching football, Barcelona would be my team. Oh, look at me sounding all British. I'm just going to go with it. I've been reading Harry Potter, you know, and in Spanish no less. Sorry, Grid-Iron. Get over it.

Haha! I just realized how many times I've already called it "football." Let's carry on, shall we? This is what I get for being hooked on British YouTubers.

Anywho, I got to watch the first half, ninja kick to the chest and all, and I spent the entire half freaking out while NED had the ball and being disproportionately excited when ESP was in possession. I'm kind of glad I was alone. I would've looked like a giddy ignoramus to anyone who actually knew anything about football. It was obvious even to me and amidst all of the naive conversations that I was having with the TV that I know nothing about the sport. Thanks to She's the Man I could probably name a few of the positions, but buggets if I know what they mean. And I'm just sort of guessing what "off sides" means and what would happen if someone racked up enough yellow cards.

Oh, cluelessness.

Sadly I didn't get to watch the entire game as I had to leave for church. I did get to check the results during Sunday School, though. We were playing a sort of Jeopardy game and the teacher had divided us into the Netherlands and Spain (I was miffed that I was on the Dutch side of the room), so I felt almost compelled to check the scores. I dampened the teacher's day when I announced the winner halfway through class. He was rooting for NED. But I was thrilled.

I'm also kind of smug that the German octopus was on our side. Don't know why, but there you have it.

Listening to: "Pöpcørn" by The Swedish Chef
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Check.

There's something I've always sort of wondered about when it comes to chess. Why the heck is the king the weakest and most vulnerable piece while the queen arguably kicks butt? I did a little searching on Wikipedia, and it looks like the rules have changed some over the years, but I'm still at a loss as to why the queen became the most powerful piece.

As far as I can determine, the queen wasn't even a player in the oldest versions of the game. In that case, I understand the goal of protecting the king. If the two sides represent two opposing armies, the people in charge of the soldiers are going to protect themselves. Since that would be the king, the aim of the game would be to protect him. Selfish little bugger. No, I kid, I kid. I can relate to that whole protect-our-leader-to-prevent-anarchy philosophy.

I suppose what baffles me is, why was the queen introduced and why is she on the front lines? Unless the keyboard monkeys have been smashing letters at Wikipedia again, it looks like the queen was introduced in the 10th century and developed into the big kid on the block over the next five hundred years. What? Now, I don't have first-hand experience with the inner workings of those European societies (anyone who claims to better be driving a DeLorean), but I was under the impression that women weren't that influential in those days. Sure, sure, "the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world," but either I've been lied to, or women were kind of property in those days. What sort of lunatic would put their baby mama on the front lines?

Me possibly thinking modern-day logically here, the introduction of the queen as a fighting piece messes up the whole idea of the game. If the point of chess was to practice martial thinking, then putting the queen in the army would be like tying a bow on a kitten in the hopes that, if it were set loose in the Congo, it would conquer any warring factions of chimpanzees it encountered. Or something.

In my way of thinking, if a queen piece were to be introduced at all, she would have to become the vital piece to be protected. I know if I were a king fighting a war across uniform checked squares, my goal would be to protect potential offspring. Since queen = mother of the king's children (the heirs to the throne, anyway), then that just makes more sense to me.

I kind of think that if any piece should be tearing up the field, it should be the king.

Or the rebel leader. Wiiiiiiilliaaaaaaaam!

Listening to: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Bloguer.

I've had an idea in my head to start a Spanish blog to accompany this one, but the idea only occurred to me post-AntiVirus death, so I haven't really had a chance to do anything about it in the past few weeks. Sure, I could've tried to do something about it from my phone, but making a simple blog post that way is excruciating. How much worse would trying to set up a whole new page be?

Well last night, still on my Google Chrome high, I clicked the necessary links and voila! I set it up exactly like this one because I wanted my pair of blogs to have a sort of continuity, with the main difference being content and language. My new Spanish home even has an equivalent name, Anillos de Hadas.

I've had a minor fascination with the concept of fairy rings since sixth grade. It's not so much about believing in fairies as it is being enamored of the idea of there being a way to step into a new, fantastical experience. If I ever do anything major with my art or writing, that feeling of being pulled into another world is something I want to capture and share.

In the meantime, it's just a fun way of rebelling against normality. Psh! Who wants to fit in?

I'm still not exactly sure what sort of stuff I'll be posting over at the sister blog, but I'm sure I'll think of something. I found a use for my tumblr, didn't I? This blog will definitely remain in a journalistic style. Right now I'm leaning toward using my Spanish blog to think. There are few better ways to get a different perspective than to look at something through an entirely different language and culture.

Listening to: Sidebar interview with Lois van Baarle

Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Love.

Here I am, blogging to you live from my newly-installed Google Chrome browser. I already love it to bits. I'm kind of afraid that it will somehow escalate my internet addiction, if that's even possible. I'm hoping it's not.

On Thursday, my grandpa came over and installed the newest version of AVG onto my laptop and my dad's computer. Ironically, not 10 minutes after my dad was good to go and while I was still installing, our internet decided it hated us. Thus it was that I didn't get to post before leaving for the weekend.

Through some bout of lunacy (otherwise known as my personality), I decided not to pack until after I'd showered. Because the urge to shower came over me at about midnight between Thursday and Friday. I embarked on our journey running on two hours of sleep. Despite my semi-delirious state, I was kind of entertained while I was sitting in the dark at Anne's house at 4 AM waiting for her to get up and going. When she finally emerged, her dogs came with her. Her Shih Tzu trotted out behind her and paused in the hall. After a moment, she, the dog, looked over and realized I was there. She flew a few feet straight up into the air, all flopping fur and flailing little limbs, before bounding over several pieces of furniture to say hello with her entire back half waving back and forth.

Once we were on the road, I immediately zonked out, as is my custom. There's something about moving vehicles that never fails to lull me to sleep. That's why I don't feel safe driving long distances. During the intermittent bouts when I was awake, I made sure to take in the scenery. One of my favorite sites was coral orange sand. There was a sign for the Coral Pink Sand Dunes, but we couldn't see them from the highway. I bet they're a cool view.

I definitely made sure I was awake when we got up past Salt Lake, where the roads dive back into the mountain passes and the peaks tower up above both sides of your car.

I had hoped to see Gabby, my childhood best friend, after we arrived on Friday night, as it was her birthday, but we didn't get into Evanston, our destination, until 11 PM. Frankly, I think that was stupid and that we could've gotten there much sooner. I'm of the firm opinion that the major reason we took so long to get there was that Anne and Meagan are unreasonable when it comes to food and insist on always eating at sit-down restaurants, where just getting your food takes an hour plus time to consume it. I hate eating at restaurants all the time. Sure, I think they're nice every once in a while, but the rich food and huge portions sicken me (literally and figuratively) if I have to eat two such meals in a row. Luckily I managed to avoid too many of those during the vacation by eating at random hours so I could honestly say I wasn't hungry when everyone else decided it was time to go out. Also, I think it's a ridiculous expense. Why waste all of that money unnecessarily? Restaurants are fantastic for special occasions, but why go out for every meal? So, thanks to our two-hour stop at Ruby Tuesday's, I was too exhausted to see Gabby on her birthday. Which irritates me.

I did text her first thing when I woke up, though. I spent all of Saturday with her. We spent a little while at Evanston's Fourth of July fair-type thing near the fairgrounds in the morning, then we went around to various playgrounds and just talked and hung out. We even went to the playground of our childhood, which we'd enjoyed during it's first stages of existence. We sat on the grass field (which had been several mounds of dirt when we played there) and I sketched her and we sat and looked at clouds and talked as though it had been only a day, not months or years, since we'd been apart.

Saturday night I went to one of the local fireworks stores with Dad, Anne, and Meagan. Anne and Meagan, being from Arizona, were completely inexperienced with the joy that is legal explosives. Fireworks are the entire reason I wanted to go to Evanston for Independence Day. Wyoming has a lovely set of laws, and people can set off aerials from their own driveways if they very well please. Evanston has a population of about 12,000 people and boasts four permanent fireworks stores. Oh, yes. And I don't mean little ramshackle stands. I mean huge buildings. Because I was practically raised on the stuff, I think I will forever love everything about fireworks, right down to the way they smell.

Sunday morning we went to Bear River Park. Or, as I like to call it, "to see the bison." We parked and walked around part of the trail there. Oddly, it seemed, my first thought upon seeing the first of the bridges we crossed was "Poohsticks." At first I didn't understand why I thought of that. I'm sure I haven't though of Poohsticks in years. And yet... The sudden derailing of my thoughts soon became apparent. When we got up onto the bridge, we saw that the side meant for driving was fenced off because there were some holes developing. The first thing my dad brought up was that we couldn't play Poohsticks. Apparently he and I would play it for hours there at that park.

I enjoyed our walk. I love the Bear River. Indeed, I love mountains streams and rivers in general. They have a unique way a flowing. They don't meander or sluggishly drift. They leap and rush and occasionally bubble. They don't sport a smooth surface, but rather stripe themselves with life and energy. I love them. I love the way they smell and the way they sound, the way they move and the way they feel. I love the rocks lining their beds.

On the second, smaller, unbound bridge at the park, I smiled and said to my dad, "Want to play Poohsticks?"

I don't think Anne and Meagan really understood the spirit of it. They didn't play, but they watched. They seemed to think it was all about winning. For me at least, it's something else entirely.

At the end of our walk, I went and gazed at the bison they have there at the park. They're some of my favorite animals. Anne though they were ugly. I don't know if it was because they were in the process of shedding their winters coats, or if she truly thinks they're unattractive, but I think they're beautiful. I could watch them for hours and not notice the time. True, I could do that with most animals, but bison are special. They're part of my story. They're part of who I am.

I got to see some old friends of my dad's during the afternoon.

In the evening, we went over to another of his friend's houses so his kids could enjoy our bountiful harvest of fireworks. Meagan and I had quite the time with a particular brand of sparkler. They're quite pretty once you get them lit, but they hate to light. We were lighting them off of each other as fast as we could to make sure we always had one lit and we were trying simultaneously to make sure all of the kids who'd gathered got their turns playing with some. I rubbed my thumb raw finally learning how to work a butane lighter (sort of).

Once it was dark and we'd shot off a few of our own aerials, we headed up into the hills to watch the city's rather magnificent show. I was mesmerized. Then, as soon as the city's finale was finished, the town, which had been slowly building up a layer of smoke as the evening wore on and had been sporting the occasionally shower from a mortar, lit up like it was letting out a breath. Most of the inhabitants must have been watching the city show because as soon as it was over they let fly Evanston-style. I love everything about the Fourth of July there. I love the haze over the town and the thud of the cannons and the bursts of light. I love the crackle of firecrackers and the whine of bottle rockets and the drifting smell of sulfur. I love how you drive through the streets at your own peril because the pyrotechnics drift out of people's driveways and into the middle of the road. I love drawing in the air with sizzling sparklers. Most of all, I love when all of these overlap and I can pretend I'm on a battlefield and I can exist no further than my senses and an instinctual flare of imagination.

We got up even earlier Monday morning to head back. Surprise, surprise, we managed the return trip in a remarkably shorter amount of time because we made fewer stops and didn't go to any restaurants.

It was still dark when we pulled out of Evanston. Instead of going back to sleep as soon as I was in the car, I stared out the window, not wanting to miss my last opportunity for the foreseeable future to commune with my most beloved mountains. As we wove through the dark passes, I had a hard time deciding whether I should stare at the mountains or the starry sky, where the Big Dipper shone impossibly bright and big just over the western horizon. Eventually I settled on staring at the stars just over the ridge line when I could and happily letting the mountains obscure them when they felt like it. It felt like a satisfactory compromise that let me equally enjoy two of my greatest loves.

When I'm up in those close-pressing behemoth peaks, I feel so comfortable, like they're fondly embracing me as they rise up into the sky on both sides. It's one of my favorite feelings in the world. I love it.

<3

Listening to: Pat Benatar on Pandora

Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Scrubby.

Monday morning, my dad, his girlfriend, and my cousin rode their motorcycles up into Payson for breakfast. My dad's girlfriend's son and I followed in a car. We drove through some beautiful country. My heart always soars when it realizes it's surrounded by mountains. Granted, the Mogollan Rim doesn't have the pine-coated peaks of the Uintas, but I still loved the drive. There was a series of peaks with heart-shaped talus piles. Instead of trees, the mountains sported bushes. I miss mountains.

Listening to: Supernatural
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Overload.

It just figures that my AntiVirus would decide to expire the day before the most action-packed week of my summer. Chess, Jackie Chan, Zona Rosa, window shopping, a plane ride, &c. I could go into detail, but I fear that would result in a blog post of record-setting length. And that would just be painful to do from my phone.

Right now I'm coming to you from the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. I think that speaks for itself. It's intermission right now.

Listening to: the crowd
Reading: Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal

Mama.

For the past two days, my waking hours have been spent with my mum. Oh, wait. I'm not British. Dang. Heavy sigh.

May I just mention that I love spending time with my mom? Yes, she aggravates me sometimes, but so does most everyone. I'm working on it.

Yesterday we went to Walmart, which has, once again, failed me. Hegh! Walmart...

Today we went to Shatto dairy again, as that's where my darling mother tries to get all of her milk since it comes in those schnazzy glass bottles, thus no disgusting plastic taste.

Speaking of milk, after our escapade to the dairy, we drove down to meet my brother at the Cracker Barrel. At one point during the meal, he ordered a pint of milk. It came in a little carton, so he thought maybe that was what was giving it a bad aftertaste. He poured it into a glass to try to fix that, but it still tasted gross. My mom's face when she tried it was absolutely priceless. I couldn't breathe I was laughing so hard. If the taste wasn't enough, the weird texture the milk was leaving on the glass was a pretty fair indication that it was rancid. The look on the waitress's face when we informed her was almost as funny as my mom's.

For dinner, I ordered the most delightful chicken with cheddar and broccoli and little breaded crumblies. After we were all done eating, we sat there just talking for quite a while. It was nice. I was especially amused by how my brother kept pouring the littlest amounts of orange soda into his mug and drinking them, like he was doing soda shots. It was even funnier when he hiccoughed later. Yes, that's how it used to be spelled.

After dinner we went to the Liberty Jail and went through a tour. It was a good thing we put the top back up on my mom's convertible before we went inside because it was pouring rain when we came out. It was awesome driving around with the top down all day, though.

The rain let up as we neared home, so mom and I took a detour and stopped by Far West, a.k.a. one of my favorite places in the world. The wind was magic again. The sun was behind a soft cloud, so the light was white gold, and the wind rippled the nearby ponds and the tall grasses. There's no better place in the world to be barefoot. At one point I even sat down in the middle of the temple site and tried to find a four-leaf clover, but to no avail.

Back at home, mom and I watched the new Alice in Wonderland, which I thought was quite awesome.

Also, I love blueberry bagels with strawberry cream cheese.

Listening to: "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of"
Reading: The Belgariad by David Eddings

Fun.

Too few water balloons and frozen watermelon.

I really like the singles' branch here.

<3

Listening to: "Here Comes My Baby" by Sons of Admirals
Reading: The Belgariad by David Eddings

Low-key festivites.

Cast for this post:
Me.
Tonks (f): petite spitfire currently obsessed with zumba.
Ron Weasley (m): nerd 1. Ginger.
Harry Potter (m): nerd 2. Dark hair styled after the Beatles.
Dumbledore (f): obsessed with HP, Star Trek, Star Wars, Narnia, &c. Odd.
Rita Skeeter (f): ringleader, host.
Kyle (m): Rita's boyfriend.
Morgan (f): Rita's roommate.
Gary (m): Morgan's boyfriend.
The code names are taken from the characters everyone dressed up as for the midnight premiere of HP 6. That's also how they all appear in my phone. The last three have no such handles because we hadn't even met them yet at that point.

We were supposed to have a ginger-themed birthday party early last week in honor of Ron, but with all of the rain, Rita's basement got flooded and we had to cancel.

Instead we had a double birthday party on Thursday since that was Dumbledore's. We all met at El Maguey, the local Mexican restaurant. For being in the middle of the country, it's actually pretty delicious. Not the best Mexican I've ever had, but I've been spoiled over the past year because of where I go to school. I ordered chile relleno, one of my favorite dishes. The best part came at the end of the meal. Ron had alerted the restaurant staff that it was Dumbledore's birthday, so all of the waiters brought out a sombrero and a plate of sopapillas. They plunked the sombrero on her head and placed the plate in front of her and proceded to sing Columbus knows what in Spanish (it was too fast for me). While they were singing, one of the waiters had a little spoonful of whipped cream that he kept fighting to smear on her face. At the end of the song, another waiter leaned forward with a napkin like he was going to wipe it off, but it turns out that the napkin was also filled with whipped cream. They got it all over her face! She threatened to jack the sombrero for that, but didn't in the end.

After dinner we went back to Rita's house and hung for a while. We watched bits of Toddlers & Tiaras, one of the favorite shows of the group. I've never actually seen it, but my friends dressed up like toddlers and pageant moms for Halloween, so there you have it. We also watched a clip from The Colbert Report about a matador getting gored through the throat and the horn coming out his mouth. The real kicker of the story is that he survived. Blurgh...

Following that bit of delightsomeness, we went outside to play with the dog and try our hand at amateur cheerleading and such. Only two of the people involved in the toss were ever actually cheerleaders (I think), so I was kind of worried for Tonks' safety, but everything turned out alright. I also caught Ron's leap frog stunt on my phone for posterity.

Then we went out back and built a fire for s'mores. It was one of our lazier hang outs (noone tried to make a movie this time), but I think that's why I liked it so much. And we were outside when it got dark and for several hours thereafter, so I got to just sit there and listen and stare at the stars. I love being out in the country where there's so little light pollution! This is living, methinks.

The next morning I had the trippiest, most vivid dream starring every guy I'd talked to/texted on Thursday, but that's another story. The only thing I want to know is why there was a polar bear in it. I just can't get over that detail.

Yesterday I went to the singles' ward. Highlight: two of my friends wore kilts. 'Nough said.

Listening to: "Colors" by Barcelona
Reading: The Belgariad by David Eddings

Stellar.

I've been putting blogging off because I wanted this hundredth post to be something very special. However, the past weekend has been, in a word, awful.

It shouldn't have been. My brother is on leave from Iraq and he managed to come see us for a few days. For only the fourth time in the past ten years, we've all been together: my mother, my two brothers, and I. As my favorite people in the world, I should've felt wonderful to have them all around me. But I didn't.

To say that I was irritable would be an understatement. We went to the zoo, I snapped at everybody most of the time, and I got heat exhaustion. I love the zoo. I love animals. I suppose part of the problem was only running on four hours of sleep. Things bothered me that shouldn't have.

My brothers bicker. That's what they do. They rag on each other and make threats. But this past weekend their behavior, one's in particular, bothered me more than usual. I don't understand why all they talk about is violent. Even if they don't mean it, it breaks my heart that all they do is wish other people injury and demise. The other drivers in traffic, in particular. And most of the time that we were at the zoo they spent talking about how they would hunt each species in the wild (except for the fun conversation where we picked which animals we would ride. I chose a giraffe. My brothers selected a hippo and a tiger). I don't like violence, and their preoccupation with it saddens me. I guess it was just too much on Thursday.

We got to eat at Winstead's, though. That was good.

The rest of the weekend was, for the most part, equally disastrous.

That's part of why I haven't wanted to blog about it. Maybe I shouldn't, but sometimes when I write my posts I think about posterity and what they will see if they read them. I don't want to be remembered as a person who was never happy or who was always complaining, never satisfied. I don't want to be remembered that way because that's not who I want to be.

Hardship is a part of life. I know that. And I think accounts of it are okay every once in a while (perhaps less than I post), but for my hundredth post, even if noone else ever finds it significant, I want something happy. Something wonderful. Something pleasantly memorable.

I could probably waste years waiting for that perfect event to record. I've been thinking, though. We're not going to remember the events of every day of our lives. Some, the big days, the ones that become significant, will stick with us always. But why wait for one of those to make a hundredth post? I think that even if we never recall it afterwards, there should be at least a moment of every day when we think, "Yes. I want to keep this." It doesn't have to be a huge affair, with gilded invitations and gift wrapping. It doesn't have to be big and loud and make itself heard. Even if it's just a tiny, fleeting second that passes quietly by, if it has that echo of perfection that sparks for an instant a splash of bliss, then that's worth recalling. That's worth the distinction of a hundredth post. And a 101st, and a 102nd, and every number thereafter.

Saturday night the stars held a convention. At least, that's what it looked like. They were clear and bright and more multitudinous than I have every seen them. They crowded together so that the sky almost looked like a piece of indigo mesh held over a bright light. There were no clouds and I heard no thunder, but there were bright, boltless flashes of lightning. The wind that night was my magic wind. Sometimes the wind is just soft with a smell and a feel to it like something is about to change, like something magical is about to happen. I love it when the air's like that. I just want to breathe it in forever.

That magic wind is why I didn't go to after-prom my senior year. When I left to go change after the prom, it was there, and I just couldn't go back among people. Not while the wind was calling to me.

The past two nights haven't had quite so many stars, but the faithful ones who have been out have shone for all they're worth.

Standing outside, staring up at the sky while every other care stops to wait...that feels like a moment worth remembering.

It's also nice to know that not too far away a friend is doing the exact same thing.

"We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late." -Marie Beyon Ray

Tonight I went to the singles' ward's FHE. We played Bigger or Better, a game in which the teams start out with a small thing and go door to door asking strangers to trade them something bigger or better. We cheated and borrowed a van from a teammate's cousin. I was against the idea. None of that is really what stands out to me, though.

No, on the way there my friends and I had been talking about Lady Gaga and how we all loved the song "Alejandro." As we were starting to head home, "My Life Would Suck Without You" was coming to an end on the radio. "Oh, man!" my friend said, "I wish 'Alejandro' would come on next." And you know something? It did.

Listening to: "Alejandro" by Lady Gaga
Reading: The Belgariad by David Eddings

**

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

-Walt Whitman

Fitting.

I had never ridden in a convertible until the past week.

I had never ridden in a convertible with the top down until the past week.

I had never stuck my hands up like people do on rollercoasters until the past week. While I'll still probably never do that on a rollercoaster (high speeds and rules, you know), I must say it's quite fun in a convertible.

This past week I also got to take a tour of the inner workings of a dairy farm. And not just any dairy farm, but the wonderful farm responsible for milk that tastes like a root beer float. You know you think that sounds delicious.

Lately I've felt a bit like the puzzle piece that looks like it fits, but upon closer inspection it's a little too loose or a little too tight and the colors are just a little bit off. Then I came home. Over the past year I've kept up with my friends on Facebook, and seeing their antics and photo albums, I've worried a little that I wouldn't quite fit back in. I was pleasantly wrong. I realize now that I wasn't fitting into that other puzzle because it was the wrong one. Here, I fit right back in with the gentle, satisfying slide of the right piece.

Today I remembered just how much I truly love jigsaw puzzles. While my mom and I were going through boxes yesterday, we found one full of the beauties. I took some out today. I'd forgotten how good it feels to do a puzzle. It just feels so natural. My dad used to call me the Puzzle Wizard. It's hard to describe, but the best I can come up with is that doing a puzzle is transcendent. I see the pieces differently, almost psychicly. I see peaces.

Listening to: "Best That You Can Do" from Arthur
Reading: The Grass Is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank

Ser.

I've been doing some deep thinking lately.

I've been trying to figure people out and to figure myself out.

So far the results are unsatisfactory. On the one hand is a desire to belong. On the other is a personal pride that refuses to bend to perceived expectations. The former is fueled by shaky self-esteem and loneliness. The latter feeds off logic and habit.

Personally, I'm rooting for the latter, but while the two work out their differences, I think I'm going to hurt for a while.

Buried beneath it all is the nagging feeling that there is some sort of cosmic irony in all this in that I might find more acceptance were I to stop worrying and trying so hard and just be.

I think that's my favorite verb. "To be." So many meanings, so many uses.

The Spanish use two words for it: ser and estar. Ser is used for permanent states and estar for transient ones.

So ¿cuál soy?

I'm beginning to see lo que estoy. Parts of her I would like to shuck off, but others will do just fine. I wonder, though, how much of me will get seared off in the refining.

And because I'm a girl and I can't help it, I wonder who will be waiting for the finished product when the process is done. Or more hopefully, who will be willing to take it while it's still in the fire.

Listening to: "My Immortal" by Evanescence
Reading: Persuasion by Jane Austen

Managing.

"Hello, friends and enemies."

I've been remiss with the whole blogging thing. Now I suppose it's time for a tell-all. But not, because while I'm a bit too open sometimes, there is just some information I don't trust the internet with.

The past few weeks have quite frankly been kind of crappy. For the first time in my life I'm counting down to something. What is this countdown, you ask? The number of days until I'm in Missouri. Right now we are at almost exactly five.

I'm sure your next question is, "Why have you been feeling crappy, Rebekah?"

The short version is that I've been feeling rather lonely and a little abandoned. Sure, my friends try to include me in their excursions, but for the most part I've felt like an afterthought, someone to invite, but then to forget about. During these big group outings I've felt like I just shouldn't be there. Even though people talk to me, it feels like it is in an oh-it's-Rebekah-let's-say-hi manner. I don't feel included at at. I just feel really out of place.

That is why while I was with a large group of friends on Thursday, I called my best friend and rudely chatted with her and her husband on the phone instead of socializing with people who I didn't really feel wanted to socialize with me. It's really kind of sad, too, because we were down at Tempe Town Lake and walking a bit on the Mill Avenue Bridge, both things I have wanted to do and was looking forward to. And yet. I toughed it out for a while, hoping the situation would improve, but after a good hour or more of lagging unnoticed at the back of the group, I made the call. The result was interesting. I got out of it not only amusement and companionship, but a video of a cat going psycho with a sock. And after I hung up the phone I was hyper, something I haven't truly been in quite some time. Sure, I was a shade of hyper during the weekend of the Easter Pageant, but that was nothing like this. This was a bouncing-up-and-down, frisbee-playing hyper. And if you know me at all, you know that such physical activity is not my thing in the slightest. But there it was.

My friends got together again for a pool party on Friday and cliff jumping on Saturday. I defered on Friday because I knew that noone there would hang out with me. The only person going that I was really interested in spending time with was my roommate, but I knew that she would spend all of her time with others on the guest list. I just thought it would be better for all parties involved if I stayed home, that way I wouldn't feel quite so crappy and noone else would feel awkward because I was randomly there. That's not to say that staying home automatically equalled me being euphoric. It didn't. It's hard to be truly happy when my mind is racing through a thousand tangents a minute and worrying about half of them. There's more to it than that, but again: what I don't tell the internet, can't fall into the wrong hands. If I'm remembering correctly, my Friday evening was spent watching the fabulous miniseries Tin Man, because my best friend generously gave me the means to watch such things instantly, providing me with some cheer. I love that girl.

I didn't go cliff jumping because the only reason I had wanted to go when it was suggested weeks ago was to spend time with people that I would now rather not be around. Sure, they're fine separately, but when you get certain combinations of people they stop being good companions. Since the weighty pro of good company was removed, the strong cons of 1. hating bathing suits, 2. being afraid of falling, and 3. not knowing how to swim, won out. Instead, I went to my dad's girlfriend's daughter's graduation in the morning and spent the afternoon helping prepare for her graduation party. Is it bad that I think peeling 20 lbs. of potatoes is more fun than cliff jumping could ever be? I also got to brown meat and fetch things. The highlight of Saturday was probably watching my dad's girlfriend's son open a gallon can with tin snips because none of the can openers would work on it. In the words of my dad's girlfriend, "Hooray for redneck ingenuity!"

The party was also fun. I spent most of it talking to my own extended family. I got to talk to my grandpa a little, then with my cousins and aunts, who I'm coming to realize are all just basically awesome.

I'm beginning to think I've spent the last year hanging out with all the wrong people.

Tonight, my dad worked with me a little on learning how to drive a stick shift.

Listening to: "One Tin Soldier"
Reading: Persuasion by Jane Austen

Mothra.

Since I got up Friday morning, my stomach has felt all tense and fluttery, like I was about to step out onto a stage on opening night. It's made food rather unappealing (except for those garlic noodles...). Also, it's just annoying and can't be healthy. I'm pretty sure I've worked out all the various reasons for its presence and fluctuations in intensity, but I'll keep those mum, methinks. So this has been plaguing me all weekend with no end in sight, but at approximately 6:51 tonight it simply vanished. All it took was a single text from a friend. It was like I was trapped and all it took was a nudge from the right person to release everything. That's not to say it's really released, oh contrare, but all of the tension is.

Thanks, friend.

Listening to: "I'm So Excited"
Reading: The Definitive Wit of Winston Churchill

Sleep deprivation.

Egad! What a week.

Monday's FHE was funner than usual. Friendship Dinners tend to drive me to the brink of madness, but I had a lovely chat with a friend about Ebonics, so that was awesome.

Afterward I had a long conversation with John the Animal about movies and such. I also decided that the Animal must be a title and added a Sir in front of his name. Though if you are going to say it, you have to say the entire thing. An accent is encouraged.

The rest of the week was hectic. I had two papers due, one on Thursday and one on Friday.

Wednesday night, I finally started working on my English paper around 10 PM, finishing around 4 AM. Hello, four hours of sleep. I don't regret it, though. The daylight hours of Wednesday weren't wasted (mostly).

Thursday, I was super energetic all day. It was weird. Although that energy was laced with a few bouts of extreme emotion. That night I had to do a bunch of geology homework and try to start my history paper. I got some of the geology done, but it was an even stranger day in that I felt like I couldn't be alone, so I was trying to do homework while being in a room with a huge group of my friends, who were playing psychologist. Thursday night I got to bed around 2 AM. Enter five hours of sleep.

Friday morning I was kind of exhausted. However, I managed to rock my last geology lab and a Spanish oral exam. I did have to fight to stay awake during a movie in history. I managed to finish my geology homework by 2-ish, at which point I started on my history paper. The one due at midnight. Finished around 5. That kind of worries me in the quality department, but I didn't have anything more to say. At that point I probably should've crashed, but lately I've sort of been feeling like defying logic and after finishing the paper I had a resurgence of energy. Instead I ate my dinner, blew soap bubbles while watching the sun set, then went and chilled by the giant bunnies on Mill with a friend. Mill is an interesting place on a Friday night. There was a guy who was basically apologizing for existing, and then he started talking like he was answering a phone, but I don't think he was on a phone...Then of course there were all of the people offering coupons for free drinks or asking for change. Mill, I love you. I wouldn't want to walk down you alone after dark, but I love you.

I got home around 10:30, but played on the internet until...um...? 12? 1? I'm going to go with 12. Then I got up at 5, my dad picked me up at 6. Chiliquilis for breakfast, went back to bed until 1. In my brand new bed! My room at my dad's was distinctly lacking in the furniture department, but that problem has been rectified. I even have some sweet new sheets. And a plethora of hangers! Did laundry all day.

Listening to: School of Rock
Reading: Justine by Lawrence Durrell

Socializing.

Thursday:
1. Dinner
2. Rooney concert (lead singer = Michael from The Princess Diaries)
3. Tim Tam Slams
4. Hanging with Cassidi

Friday:
1. Dinner
2. The 39 Steps at Gammage
3. Foosball/Pool
4. John the Animal
5. Mill Avenue
6. Cookiez on Mill
7. Three giant bunnies (statues)
8. "If you throw a debit card in the fountain, all of your wildest dreams will come true."
9. Me retrieving friends' debit cards from the fountain
10. "Question: which bear is best?"
11. Boys playing with their hair
12. Rearranging the couches in the lounge

Note: not every silence is awkward.

Listening to: Dorm Life
Reading: Justine by Lawrence Durrell

Dorm life.

Friday was quite the day. I got up and headed out around 5:30 AM to go running. Then, at 7:30, I had a geology lab that involved climbing part way up a butte. When the TA dismissed us, he said we could either follow him back down the way we had come and ask questions, or we could go up and over. Silly me, I chose the latter. Me and three other poor fools. Because of the way the vegetation grew, the clearest paths up the butte are baby ravines filled with loose, fist-sized chunks of rock. And it was a mite taller than I imagined. When I finally crested the top, my lungs hurt, my legs hurt, and I was thirsty something fierce. The only things that kept me from going back down were that I knew going down those steep rivers of loose rock would be harder and I'd already gone so far that I might as well keep going. Like the blonde joke about the blonde who swam halfway, got tired, and turned around. That was not going to be me. So I made it to the top. My lab partner was also one of the ones who decided to go over. I think he's part mountain goat or something, because he reached the top a good ten minutes before I did. Though maybe not, because he threw up and I didn't. Then of course, we took the wrong fork going down (the other side had real paths) and we had to pick our way down another ravine as the actual path down was a in the other direction.

We made it, and I was rather happy that the rest of my classes required little thinking that day. A few people did cultural presentations in Spanish and history was a lecture like usual.

I came home, ate lunch, and took a short nap before diving into yet more geology. I had to read two chapter and take online quizzes over them before 11 PM. I finished the first chapter before dinner (taking time out to shower and get all of the mountain off).

Dinner was Roomie, the Cynic, and I.

Afterwards, I hurried through the other chapter and quiz (and got stellar scores, by the by), so we could all watch a movie. They invited a bunch of other people to our small soiree, but only three were not busy and in town. We watched Disturbia, which I am not at all fond of, but it was kind of funny how often Roomie freaked out and started screaming. At one point she even left the room for a minute, but to no avail. The Cynic paused it until she came back in. Devious creature. Her timing was impeccable. She literally walked out only a few minutes before the climax.

After the movie, we spilled outside. We were initially in quest of ice cream, but we got sidetracked when some of our company wanted to be shown where the aquatic center was so they could find it to watch a water polo game on Saturday. That turned into us walking to Mill Avenue, the local street of stores and awesomeness. I think the Cynic was antsy or something, because he was the mastermind behind all of the traveling we did.

I'd never been to Mill at that time of night. There were buskers and street artists galore playing all sorts of funky stuff. It was awesome. We came back down University and went to the only place still open on campus at midnight. It wants to be a '50s diner, but it fails miserably. We got shakes and sundaes. The service was kind of mediocre. I suppose I can't really blame them. There was a surprising amount of people in there. So we hung out there with our various ice cream concoctions just chatting for a while.

Eventually the group dispersed as people realized when they had to get up in the morning for their various activities.

Saturday was a laundry day. Also, Dorm Life. Great webshow. I finished watching it on Saturday night. Started Friday afternoon. Yeah, I found it that awesome.

Saturday was also an interesting day for elevators. When I left in the morning, there was a couch in the elevator. Unfortunately, it was facing the back and I had a laundry basket, so I couldn't manuever well enough to sit on it. Later in the day, I got a text from Roomie telling me she was stuck on one! She called the Cynic who alerted the front desk who alerted the authorities and both the police and fire department came with their lights on and sirens blaring. (I heard about all of this second hand). The elevator had gone down only half a floor and stopped. They had to pry it open and Roomie had to climb out. She's pretty sure they broke the door getting it open. Its groundfloor door now has an "Out of Order" sign on it.

Quite the weekend.

Listening to: "One Tin Soldier"
Reading: The Definitive Wit of Winston Churchill