It was a Friday the night his lung collapsed. I remember because my dad and I were at a Friday Night Live. I had my hair all done up, and I had a scarf on, which is something I usually didn't do, but my hair was pretty long (for me) and I felt like wearing a scarf for some reason.
My aunt came over to my dad, and they were quietly talking, and I had a headache. I also had a hard time standing, and I should have been home in bed. I didn't really know what was supposed to happen after your lung collapses. Does the other one keep working on its own? How long can you live that way?
When I woke up the next morning, I was in so much abdominal pain that I could barely get out of bed. I walked up to the living room to tell my parents I had to go to the doctor, and they were all sitting around staring at the floor.
Then they told me that he died. I don't even remember if I cried. I think the crying was later on. I even went to church that night, because everything was completely surreal. I did powerpoint and maybe that was when I cried.
Then, that Sunday, we took off in an airplane and its a funny thing to look down on the clouds and wonder about God, and where He is. Is He in outerspace?
That week was a blur of hotels and freezing cold, my grandmother crying, absense of music, of me taking pills and crying a lot, and sitting on the couch, expecting him to come through the door at anytime. To tell us it was all just a joke. To just be home from work, or to just come home from the grocery store with ice cream sandwiches.
Because the last time I saw him, he was strong. He was standing at the door with my grandma, waving goodbye, and nothing was that wrong. Drugs can mask anything for a while.

I don't know what's brought on all the memories. Maybe it's this headache.

thoughts as one would pull onto the 500 south on-ramp when they were facing west into the sunset, with the window down slightly at 59 miles per hour:
life is perfect
he smiles slightly when she talks about the revolution, can't stop himself, doesn't catch himself
God is beautiful
life is perfect
need to find an amp
miss coffee with Ashley
the sunset is beautiful and the weather is perfect
its always the little things
pray pray pray
every little thing about his smell and his face
"it's the wrong kind of place"
life is perfect because
God is perfect
iced coffee in the sun and my pants rolled up and no sweater on
"is that alright with you? put my gun away when it's loaded"
righteous by faith
grasping at straws sometimes made
life perfect.
and always, it is beautiful.

"I think I am getting love, Rachel."
"You are falling in love?"
"Yes. I am getting in love."
-Ana (my Brazilian coworker) to me

Ana is the single mother of three children, one of whom is as old as I am. We often eat together, and even though she is twice my age, we get along really well. I'll miss her, if I go.
Huh.

"I could use a really good cup of coffee right about now, Joe."

Twelve hours is a long time to work. A really long time.

Wish I was far away, somewhere really warm, under a tree, and that it was day time, and that I was listening to Rilo Kiley, and that I was wearing a tank top and eating a popsicle and that all my troubles were far behind me. And suddenly there was no such thing as work or school.
Oh man. I am tired, officially.

Another
nightmare.

Do they ever go away, when you're trying. Things.

I felt slightly guilty, upon waking, that it was 11:53 a.m. and I hadn't gotten up with Noah to watch a black and white horror B-movie because he would be scared to watch one alone. I'm pretty sure that kid has seen Lord of the Rings and other graphic, possibly R rated movies, but old black and white Twilight Zone episodes scare him so bad he can't sleep.
I rubbed my eyes and heard the dogs barking really loudly and him yelling at them to be quiet, and I laughed out loud. I pulled the sheets up over my head and realized that I love my life. That life is beautiful even in it's consistent difficulty. Sometimes I think that God likes me just a little more than I deserve, because how else could I get away with so much all the time? Like skipping classes on Thursday for Kelsea's birthday.

Band practice was so much fun today. Learned Kelsea's new song and Steele and Kim came so we could work on our girl band for Women's Conference. Steele sat and ate communion bread and drank coffee while we rocked out with no drums.

Then I went up to Salt Lake to have a fancy dinner made by Chef Ben, and even with no rice wine, it was amazing. :) We watched the end of Mystery Men and all of Bottlerocket with Matt 1 and 2, Niels, Eric, and Phil, then Dan.

It was a good night, even though I had to come to work, and it was an amazing weekend of running around Utah and having a lot of good times with good friends.

answering phone calls

When I woke up, I had 9 text messages, and one missed call, and one voicemail.
Joey called from the hospital and wondered if I'd be interested in a bla bla bla position, and I said, sure that sounds cool, so I was going to wait for him to call back, when I got another call from this lady Sandy and in 3.5 minutes, I had an interview set up for tomorrow.
So I'm laying there thinking, Whoa there God, what am I gonna do. So I go make some coffee and while it's brewin' Mrs. Mac calls to see if I think I could talk at the women's conference which a thousand miles outside of my comfort zone, so I say, I'm gonna pray about that one... and my eyes are stinging so bad. And I don't know how to make school and a sound check work out on Thursday, so I'm a bit freaked out about that one.

And all I can do is pray. That's all that's left.

"Sometimes I feel like just joking about living the exciting life, and I just want to sit around and eat poptarts."
-Kels, a long time ago, but I still think it's funny


Tired, in the hospital. Chapped lips. But I got the best parking spot on the hospital's whole dang campus. Should do home work. Should chop my back off. Should do a lot of things.

one of our patients called 911 tonight.
It would have been funny, if it weren't not funny, trying to get her to put down the phone. And the nurse was trying to reassure the emergency people that it really wasn't an emergency. I don't understand some people. Some people, on morphine.

One of my patients asked me how I could be so perky in the middle of the night, and I just smiled at her and told her that I drink a lot of coffee.

It's been a good night, and I'm happy, and I'm looking forward to a very good week.

: )

one lifetime is long enough,
is long enough to wait.
David Gray

the cure for winter

We start to know it a little bit more each day. Each time we wear sandals and breathe sunny air.

"Yeah, I know about that."
"What, about being 60% republican?"
"No! Well. I did start a load of laundry."

these whiskey tango ghosts

it seems dumb to me to have horror B-movies on television when their is real horror in real life, all around us, all the time.
why can't we look away?

Met Lauren for tea and cheesecake this afternoon, and she just made me laugh and get excited about bike rides, and spring, and being okay with things. Rilo Kiley songs were going off in my head (do they ever stop now?) as we watched this man climb the stairs and try not to spill two drinks. I wondered, vaguely, why he didn't take a drink out of one, cuz it was too full. I thought, maybe, that his girlfriend was afraid of his germs, and wouldn't like it if she caught him, and the very thought of that was enough to keep him from trying it. Or maybe he just didn't know what to do.
So after I made her late for work, and we hugged in the parking lot, I decided to give blood, because I had the rest of the afternoon to do anything, and I was thinking about all the people that need blood, hoping I had enough iron. And I did.
I think she sliced my artery open, because it really hasn't stopped bleeding, and it's been, oh, six hours. But I don't care.

Now I'm going to get paid to sit and watch someone sleep and write, and listen to music.

history deletes itself
but it can't make their bad dreams go away.

"are you alright? I can't get you off my mind-"

My back might be breakin' and my chest might be caving in, but the sun is shining now. I forgot what that was. Its funny how only in winter can you appreciate that sometimes. I'm glad I don't live where it rains too much.
Took a walk through the streets of the neighborhood behind mine, listened to Tegan and Sara. Forgot also how much I like them. I guess we'd worn them out. So good.

Sometimes, I don't have much to say to God, but I think it's worship enough just to walk down the street and to tell Him he's good. Just cuz you're happy. Listening to their So Jealous album. Cuz I think God likes what I like.
We're friends like that.

"What would you like?"
"Um, can I get a Shirley Temple, do you make those?"
"Yeah."
"And she wants that without alcohol."
"I think Shirley Temples are generally nonalcoholic drinks..."

Sorry. Second post in one night.

It's funny working the night shift how often my mind can change, or my whole mood can change, once I've acclimated to being here. In fact, sometimes I'm even glad I'm here after the first two hours of running around taking vitals and chasing down nurses is over. It can sometimes be peaceful. There is a hum. The computers hum and the furnace blows, sort of. It never really feels warm, but I like it cool because I wear layers and I hate being really hot while I'm working.

But I feel better about my haircut. And I love people. The last one is more important. I LOVE people. I didn't always. I did live inside myself once, and I only loved the people that were loveable. People I thought were awesome, you know? Now I feel like I can even love people I hate, in a way. God has changed my heart, in those respects.


also, I think that we just want to go on adventures. Us. collectively. the boys and the girls, they want to be heroic and heroinish.

I cut some of my own hair this morning.
I mean, I'm used to doing that, but I quit trusting my haircutting skills after the last haircut. Not that it was really bad, but my past two haircuts have been by licensed professionals.

Ha.

I just cut an inch off the back, and I didn't wash my hair. I put a headband on and pretended I hadn't done this sort of thing to myself, again. I get over it pretty quick usually. In fact, I'm fairly sure that I'll be over it by tomorrow.

I got a microphone in the mail. A Shure SM58 for Kelsea's studio. I get really excited about her studio. In her laundry room. It has a cozy sound to it, doesn't it?

Britt's birthday party was last night. It was really nice; everyone was there. Raychel and I drank a lot of cream soda and Brittni looked cute like she always does. We played a round of Mafia and I spilled Nick's drink on the carpet, and I felt bad. But he cleaned it up pretty well. I just sat there feeling dumb, smiling like a stupid-idiot.

We all went home pretty early, but I didn't actually go to sleep til 2 or 3. I can't remember. Good phone conversations with an even better friend, while I laid on the couch by the fireplace. It's so freaking cold all the time. Anyway.

I feel awful tonight, at the hospital. I feel like a horrible nurse assistant. I can't concentrate. Vitals took me forever. I want to just sit and smack my head. Six more hours...
I just feel, slightly out of place and lonely, even though John is back, and there is a certain comfort in that. I just about broke down in the linen closet. I just stood there and prayed that somehow I could pull myself together.
The thing is, I'm really actually very happy. Joyful. My head has just been really cloudy, and I do feel sort of lonely in the midst of it.

twenty years of snow

I hate when I feel like I know nothing. When everyone else is living a complicated life right here. In the room next to mine. In the house down the street from me. In the church that I grew up in. Hurts a little.

There are bobby pins all over my shelf. I don't know why. I don't have long hair. I mean should I put my heart in a box or not? Put it back on the shelf next to the bobby pins? She never truly hated anyone or anything.

God knows. I mean, He does, when it comes down to it. PEACE that transcends all understanding. I love that. But I hate the everyday fight. But I love standing my ground. But I hate Satan. But I love hope. For the future. Hope for music.

One day, we'll put it all together. The tiny pieces. The shards that tore up our skin. The lovely colored glass melted our heart when we felt vibrant. The pottery that hit the floor and broke. The puzzle that was in our mind. We'll know it.

It'll be okay, you'll see.

2am
"Could you bring me a cup of really hot coffee, and two creamers?" He looks like a mountain man. I mean, it's cool if you want to stay up all night, drinking coffee. It's cool if you've been doing that as long as you can remember. Don't shave. You're cool man.
4am
"Could you bring me a cup of really hot coffee, and some creamer?" Yeah, man, I will. You're really cool, you know that? I don't even know how your body can handle you drinking caffeine twenty four seven, but that's cool. Bushy-hair-guy. He's been in here before. Poor guy. I'll get you your coffee. I mean, his hair. His huge beard. He looks. like. Moses.

life inside the music box ain't easy
Regina sounds happy about it anyway. What would you do?

My little brother at dinner tonight, expressed his concern on growing older and going to college.
"Well, I don't really know how to hold a baby," he told my dad. I watched my dad trying hard not to laugh, and I didn't even bother trying.
"I think you have a few years to worry about that," he told him, "At least two years."

I wish I were out on a boat somewhere warm tonight. Laying in a boat, with someone I love. Drinking Merlot out of Dixie cups. It doesn't need to be a yacht or even a sailboat. Just a little row boat. I'm happy now, but that would be truly perfect.

"I know entirely too much about coffee," Ben told me.
"Everyone should know entirely too much about something," I answered, and then "I don't know very much about anything, but I know a little bit about everything, I think."

And I wish I knew more.
Se tente. I tried.

I think I know about people, what made them what they are. I know about Pepsi and how it feels going down my throat. I know about how hard your heart can beat, when you are doing nothing to provoke it. I know that a Rotring writes smoother than a Lamy. I know why people drink. I know about waking up sad, and how it wrecks you. I know about the farm, I know the woods and the fields. I know exactly what size knot to tie in a garbage bag to get it to fit perfectly and not tear being stretched over the garbage can. I know about Salt Lake City. I know that nobody really wants you to color outside the lines, and that it's probably a good thing, when it comes down to it.

I wish, Alison, that we were better at getting together for milkshakes. But I love it when you write me letters. We can say what we're thinking. Write me a letter, friend.

"Will it be boring?" She asked angrily as she glared at us.
"Yes," she answered her own question. "In your highspeed life of desperation."

I'm cleaning up my room and throwing past lives away. I thought I'd want to remember them? I was kidding myself.

After 18 years of being a daughter, and being a friend to my dad,
sometimes
I
still don't
know what to say to him.

But I love him.

I always wonder what'd be like to be married to Bob Dylan.
When he was younger, and changing the world a lot.

I wonder what he'd say, when we got up and ate breakfast. Or when we'd look through the mail. I wonder if he wouldn't speak to me at all, and if we'd hate each other.
If he'd write songs about me. If he would keep a fishtank.

I just wonder what it would be like for the woman that was married to him. I need to read his biography I think.
That's what's next in knowing.

Noah and I have developed a routine for when I leave.
It sounds really juvenile, but I tell him "Bye bye," and then he tells me not to talk to strangers. Then, just like that, I leave.

I don't know how it happened.

But anyways, I love it when the patients that are rude leave. When you come in and notice that their room is empty, and their bed is made and waiting for someone new. Someone nice. Someone who won't ask you to make dentist appointments for them.

I like house sitting so far. I can nap and nobody tells me to do the dishes. Because I don't make any dishes.

I don't seem obvious, do I?

Chewin' all my nails off.
Watching my feet turn white as the blood drains out of them and never comes back. Listening to Jimmy Eat. Wondering when we're ever going to hit take off, in here. I'm getting itchy, getting antsy, getting tired
TIRED
tired
of waiting for you God. Just give me the answers already.
If I'm going to be honest with You, You gotta give me something to hold onto.

So I did go back to bed, you know?
And I stayed there. First I listened to Natalie Merchant and then Rufus Wainright's version of Hallelujah a few times, pulled the covers up over my head, and fell asleep til 2:38. I am afraid of everything at this point. What every day is like, without structure. It makes me nervous thinking about it even right now.

Kelsea got me to leave my bed and follow her around town to Starbucks with Zach and Matt Miller, and then to a series of stores for Christmas shopping. I didn't find anything for anyone else, but bought myself the best of the Pixies. Then we went up to the University, for one of the last times to her dorm, so she could write her R.A. a cryptic note about her leaving for good, put some toothpaste in the holes in the wall, and then came back to our own town for band practice.

So, I like music. And that is one reason to get out of bed, I think. At least today. I'm not so afraid of tomorrow, because of music.

"With your feet in the air and your head on the ground..."
-Pixies

I took just one sip of coffee to take the taste of yucky orange ibuprofen out of my mouth. Then I just sat the mug down and walked away.
I plan on sleeping this morning.

Last night after meeting Ashley for tan Mocha Lattes, we went to Joey's and ate Chinese food and played games with the RockU, and I listened to Killer's all the way home in the rain. It sets a certain mood I think, and driving becomes a tertiary function. That's how accidents happen.
But I pulled in the garage at 11:34 and went to bed without preparing at all for my Finance 1050 exam.

So I woke at 6:30 this morning to do some major assignments that I had either lost or forgotten to do, turned them in, took my test (not having studied for it at all, are you kidding me? Me, study?) and I'm back again, in the kitchen making eggs, and feeling like I have a certain hole in my heart.
The sort of hole that you have when you either feel like you are falling in love, missing someone, or you find out you aren't going on vacation this year.
Like someone used your 1942 Cabernet to marinate steak.
Like your brother drove your car into a sound wall in West Valley.
Like you broke your arm and you don't have health insurance.

Hmmmm. I mean, it's just a little hole. Life will go on, you can still do the dishes. You can take a nap. The morning will still go on being an absolutely gorgeous part of God's creation, but you will go back to bed to fix the hole that aches. That Jesus surrounds, but takes His time filling.

Last night, we all went to a Christmas party at the Whitney's, which was very nice. As always, Josh had some good games picked out for us,
and we all said our goodbyes to
Jake.
Even though he's not leaving for two weeks.
It was like a fairwell party, almost.

BUT THEN, we went to Ben and Andrew's and played cards all night, and walked to Smith's at twelve, to get everything you could possibly need for the best-night-ever. Ben got some Mountain Dew, which even Kelsea drank (even though she doesn't drink pop) and I drank some, even though it was one in the morning, and I was going to take my biology final eight hours later.
So we played Uno and B.S. for hours, watched Andrew play X-box and then we went out to the creepy cellar/laundry room that has no floor, and lots of holes in the walls, and is pretty dang scary. And so Andrew pretended we were locked in of course.
So, it was a really good night.

A really, really good night.

give the gift of long hair this holiday season
greets the marqee of the hair salon on state.

Oh, it's days like this. I've been up for soooooo many hours. I worked a twelve, just because they needed the help, and I've been sort of liking being rich lately. Hmmm, I should work on that.

But what is also very nice is seeing Stranger than Fiction. Again. With your friends, and laughing, and listening to Spoon, and just being okay with things. Being alright and not crying all the way home. I love that.
I love text messages, I love it when my heart stops beating for a minute when I'm eating candy in the dark.

I cut too much hair off again. So I'm putting it up in bobby pins and pretending I didn't.

"Those are bad for you," Kyle told me, referring to my drink at the coffee shop.
"But what isn't, these days?" I asked him, and he shrugged.
I know that I shouldn't consume so much sugar. And I know I should eat food, so that when I have food, I'm not wolfing it down because I'm starving.
"I have the bird flu," Kyle says, coughing.
"I'm really sorry about that, it's pretty bad, isn't it?" And he nods.
So we go sit down and drink our drinks and open our laptops and stare out the window. We don't talk to each other or listen to music. We just sniffle and think about our haircuts.

"We're going to have a party when all this is over," one patient said to me, grinning at me as I walked out the door. I love it when they're happy on sleeping medication.

I breathe caffeine.

And the truth is, I always put a packet of sugar in the fat free yogurt, because they don't taste very good.

"I sure look better with my shoes and my pants on," my ninety-one year old patient assured me at 5am this morning.
He's been trying to convince me for the last hour and a half to go get his shoes and pants, so he can walk around. What he won't understand is that his hip is broken.
He keeps mumbling as I leave, and I can still hear him across the hall.
He's made it completely clear to two nurses, and me, that we are all going to be reported to the authorities for trying to kill him. That he has a tape recorder under his bed, and "all of this is being recorded."

And I remember why I love doing what I do.

One thing that I just don't understand or like is that children want their doors open, a little or a lot. I lay in bed with my door closed, and think about how nice it is to keep everything else out. How nice it is, not to be able to see anything. How wonderful it is to be in my own little enclave of darkness. I always want to close the doors of those paranoid little children's room and say, "I am keeping the monsters out for you." Because that is, essentially, what I would be doing.

And now, I lay in bed, and I think, "I hate it when they turn the light on in the hall." Because they forget to turn it off. Even when my door is closed, and I'm having my secret Margo-life where I smoke and spray perfume around, I can still see that light with my eyes closed, and it bothers me. I wish they would leave the monsters in the dark.

I sat next to Ed in this beautiful room with windows, and thought about how my clothes were all wrong, though I did fit in quite nicely with all the other nerdy journalists, and I stared at my plate. I had two sandwiches, an excessively large cookie, and "healthy" cheetos (as if there is a such thing. they just hold off on the cheese, so they are not really cheetos). I realized that it was all going down hill, and that I could only understand half of what Ed was saying, because he is Brazilian. But I did catch the part where he told me that he moved here when he was 4, so I didn't really understand why I couldn't understand him. I didn't really want to be hanging out with him. I wanted Will, as crazy as Will is, to come over and talk to me. He could bring Darth Vader with him, even, and I wouldn't mind. I wanted to hear his stories about his head wounds from wrestling, and try to understand why he was into pro-wrestling even though it was fake.
Ed told me he was "white-washed", and that he was just stupid, so I nodded and/or shook my head, and ate my food. I watched him put about 18 free cans of Sprite in his back pack, as he told me, "What are they going to say? 'You can't take that much free pop'?" and I had to agree with him. He gave me his offending cheetos because they were 'taking up too much room'.

I guess it was a pretty nice day. But I hate riding a bus when I have a headache. I'd rather gargle bees and then saw my arm off.

The thing is, ladies and gentlemen I can’t do justice to the civil war. I can’t do justice to the pain of the north, or the pain of the south. I can’t do justice to the strife and the turmoil of the in-between times. I couldn’t tell you that it has initiated liberty (well maybe it has, but I wouldn’t know). I can’t pull up any documents to back me up, because I have too many other things to do. I can’t even really write this, now. I could write it later.
There’s the rub. I won’t want to do this later. I won’t want to do this tomorrow, I or in 3 years. When I’m old, and gray, burned out and downtrodden, I still think that I would rather be baking bread, and getting past what is going on at the present time. I think that, maybe I will watch the Civil War in a movie. I’m sorry to disappoint you Mr. K. If you need to fail me out of your class, I would understand.

I wonder how many babysitter's lives
Monopoly
has saved.

We stood in the kitchen with our brothers, eating icecream right out of the tub, and occasionally filling our coffee cups back up until we'd had enough.

I think I like chaos on a schedule. I think I haven't had a headache for a while. I think coffee makes me bearable. I think I'm going somewhere.
I'm getting really good at raising my eyebrows one at a time.

I got my freakin' Franz Ferdinand tickets, and it makes me NICE. I walked into Graywhale, and the ferril blonde guy kind of smiled, and I sheepishly whispered that I wanted some tickets, and a guy with a fro got them for me, and I wasn't an idiot this time. AND I LOOK LIKE A DRUGGIE.
I can't help the red eye. Not even red eye, that's about your pupil, this is the white part, and I'm freaking out. Matt Nanes won't even look me in the face.
Anyway, Fridays are nice, because you have momentum, but you don't have to worry about homework for the nice, you can just make your bed and lay in it and think of all the ways you are such a funny person, and know that everyone should love you.

"I am finally seeing, why I was the one worth leaving."

I thought, somehow, that I would be rich after I got my money for those grueling summer hours, but that was before I signed a contract for a cellphone, and bought 4 college textbooks on credit. Now, I am starting to wonder if I will ever pay off my truck, and just get a nice $4 coffee like I did at the beginning of the summer, when I was naive, and went on extravagant shopping sprees. I am an iiiidddiiiooottt with a headache this afternoon.

times that I realize I am whitebre(a)d.

there was that one time Ian, Ben, and I were jumping into the river from the rope, and these Latinos were watching us from the bridge, laughing. waiting. they wanted to know if I'd jump off. And then there were druggies that missed "4:20", actually drinking liquor from brown paperbags(I thought that was a stereotypical joke). They got in their car, and I realized they were driving drunk, and I wanted them to not be alive. I was wondering, why are they alive and not the sort of people who don't drive drunk? But I think Jesus would have been nice to them.

I remember sitting in somebody's living room I didn't know. They were both deaf, and my friend was talking to them, and I wanted more than anything to be home, under my covers where I was safe from what I didn't want to realize, I just wanted it to stay in the magazines. That was the first time I realized I was whitebread.

It's too late, tonight. I just keep hearing Franz Ferdinand in my head. When I am mad, they are singing "I'm cheating on you...I'm cheating on you." But when I'm sad, they are too, and Paul is singing, "So come on home....come on home, but don't forget to leave." and I'm so tired of everything.

Parties are sort of nice. I like them sometimes.
Paul Porter is fuuunny.


Matt's Girlfriend = red
Philip = green
Paul = blue

Paul is sipping really hot coffee.

So, if you had the choice between soda and cafe..coffee I mean, which would you pick?
Vodka.
He has his eyes on the coffee.
That's not a choice! Come on. I mean, if you had to choose between coffee and coke, what would you pick?
Whiskey.
Uh.
Okay, if you were choosing between whiskey and vodka, which one?
Neither, I don't drink.

Welp. I'm in love. I never really thought that this would happen. Except that one time in the hotel lobby when I fell in love too. BUT that was a long distance relationship. This is just at Smith's. At the One Hour Photo.
Huh.

"I need contact lenses like I need a poke in the eye."
-John Hegley

Saturday nights, I feel cultured and alive, and Sunday mornings I feel like a bad word. I hate being sick. Really, this is the third our fourth this summer. I don't even get sick that much in the whole school year. Sucky sucky sucky sucks.

You know what else stinks? eating split up dinners with my seven person family. You have to leave stuff for the other people that are on the phone, or off in a different town for a moment. Whereas, in altogether dinners, you don't have to leave stuff, its a free-for-all, and if you don't get something to eat, its just because you're not fast enough. (I'm so considerate, aren't I.)
I'm just having a really bad day, and I feel like taking a Lortab, even though I hate them.

Suddenly, I'm making use of my phone, like, actually trying to figure out how it works. And you know what, leaving messages suck, cuz no one ever calls me back. Trying to get everyone together is dumb too. If they're going to make it this hard, I don't even want to see them.

Another thought: I'm trying to make Gelato. I watched Tuscan Sun last night, learned Italian real quick, and now I just need to eat their icecream and have an Italian guy say he'd like to go swimming in my eyes. On second thought, that's weird and I don't like that. But I'll keep the ice cream.

I really love my life. And little headaches aren't as bad as big ones.

I changed my mind again. I do like nature. In the right context, not even on my wall.
Well, all we really wanted to do was go climbing, but we hiked for three hours over dirtbikes paths, private neighborhoods and boulder fields, behind waterfalls, over rushing rivers, and through the woods. We never found the wall, so we went somewhere else.
But it was nice, and I liked it, and I don't even know how.

This morning I woke up late and didn't go to morning church, cuz I definately went last night. I cleaned and read my Bible, and listened to music really loud (cuz I can only do that when they leave). God saw that it was good.

everything takes so long to wait for.

I don't know what else to do, so I try to pick up a book. or paint a picture.

but dang it, why should a cheesecake take all night.

I started crying about key lime pie. I'm officially freaked.

I also realized that I REALLY miss Pinky and the Brain.

I need a scholarship.

Most of this summer (well almost three weeks) has been an experimentation of being deaf. One ear, or the other has pretty much been out of function for a long while now. I have an appreciation for deaf people now, and I'm ready to go back to normal. I find my constant "what?s" to be quite embarrassing, and consequently annoying.

This has also been my 4th experimentation of the all church camp out. I really try to like it, I mean, it is beautiful. Nature is the kind of thing that you want to be framed on your wall as you are walking towards your bathroom with working toilets, or your bedroom with a nice comfy bed...or perhaps your living room, where you sit down to watch your favorite movie. I like nature, on the other side of the window. Mostly. That's all I'm saying right now.

Am I tired of summer? I keep thinking about these picturesque snowy scenes where I take my gloves out of the glove compartment, and walk into the house to the smell of gingerbread. Maybe, I just need another few hours of sleep.