Too Much To Blog!

   


I made a new friend, her name is Kaitlyn and she is awesome.  She also ended up staying at our house all night, watching Gladiator and 300 (yeah, we were in some sort of Roman mood, probably because I was reading Eat, Pray Love) anyway, my head hurts now cause I only slept about 20 minutes last night (during the end of Gladiator) and now my thoughts are all bunged together (is that word?  I know it's not a cliche') so I'm using my blog to organize my mind a little.


First off, for those in fear that I would fail my Stats test (mainly me!) I don't think I did (this is an attempt to reassure myself though), there were only a few questions on there I really didn't know, so hopefully I'll get a B or even a C.  Passing it would be cool.  I still have to do my two assignments due on Tuesday, and read the next chapter, but yeah, I remembered to take my test.
Geology is totally awesome, I went with my class on a hike to the S and won a cool tee shirt, (Snow college of course) and Juliah came along, learning about shale and chert (aka flint) and landslides and cool stuff like that.
My art class is awesome. I'm going to be painting a picture using soy sauce and a sea shell, seriously cool.  Maybe I'll throw in some mustard.
Acting, not really my cup of tea, but interesting to say the least.  I'm not big on centering myself in the middle of a room full of strangers, but it's certainly pushing me out of my comfort zone, and Dr. K is totally awesome.  Crazy, but awesome.

And now for France. Yes, I love France and I've always wanted to go, but for once I actually am serious about it. 75% serious about it (and this was before ever reading or seeing Eat, Pray, Love, which has only added to the enthusiasm. Probably pushed it up to at least 85%) I need to get out of Sanpete, I really hate this place.  I desperately want to go to Europe, so I'm trying to get a scholarship to study abroad, which hopefully won't be too hard because I'm a single mom. So yeah, France.  Nate and Kaitlyn both want to come so it looks like I'll have roommates. Yay!

Kaitlyn and I have also decided to start writing a bucket list.  I know my #1 is PUBLISH A NOVEL, and #2 is VISIT FRANCE. I know there are a lot of other little things, but those are the two capital ones :P

So, I'm super tired and now that a lot of my thoughts are out, I'm feeling my brain slow down and I may be lucky enough to even take a nap.

Also, after watching 300, it made me ask why we even have people who participate in wars?  I mean, I'm not questioning Braveheart or anything (sacrilege!) , but have you ever wondered why people are occasionally willing to throw their lives away?  I know freedom is all right and good, but what is freedom when your dead?  I'm not sure, not that I want to be a slave or anything, but sometimes I think those he-men-warriors out there are just waiting to throw themselves into a battle. Is it the testosterone? Is it they think everyone will be amazed over their sacrifice? Couldn't they just all talk about it over a nice cup of tea? :P Maybe it doesn't make sense cause my brain is tired, but really, why all the war and bloodshed and death, it seems like there are a lot better ways of doing things, especially if you are a one-life believer, how does that even work?  I hate being philisophical when I'm tired, it makes my head hurt. :S

A Charming conversation

              Eight in the morning is no longer early.  In fact, it's about the time I make it to my first class (which actually starts at 8:30). Yesterday, the art studio was locked and I found myself sitting on blue-carpeted floor of Snow, doing Geology homework.  The hallways were vacant, except for an elderly gentleman who was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit and I surmised was probably a janitor.  I didn't take much notice of him, as a rule, I'm not an initially friendly person at school, I don't say hi and wave first (unless and I know you and your name is Taleah), so I attempted no interaction with him except for the initial glance.  Unfortunately, he caught my eye, and no elder seems to resist a conversation with a willing (or unwilling) victim who looks them straight in the eye.
           "Are you a student here?" he asked me, he had to be in his 70's at least, and I do not sanction manner-less action towards the ancient, so I nodded.
            "Are you a student here?"  I asked with caution, hoping he wasn't a crazed lunatic looking for the old folk's home.
             "Yes, I am, and they told me the classroom would be opened early, but apparently they didn't mean very early."  He said.
           I smiled at him, wondering how long he had been wandering the halls hoping to catch a teacher or at least an open door somewhere.
          "Yeah, college kids get up around 10, so I'm sure your early wasn't quite what they were expecting." I said
          "I think you're right.  I get up at 4:00, and I thought I would wait around til 8:00 to come in.  I was hoping the doors would be open by now."
          "What room were you trying to get into?"  I asked.
           "Sculpture."
           I must have looked surprised, though that did explain the blue jumpsuit.
          "Have you ever seen the movie How to Steal A Million?" He asked as though it explained everything. I shook my head. "It had Audrey Hepburn and that guy from Lawerance of Arabia..."
         Here my ears pricked up, I love Audrey Hepburn and old movies.  I hoped I wouldn't seem like one of those newfangled kids who can't even appreciate a great movie but have to see something blow up every two seconds. I did know my Lawerance of Arabia (survived all four hours of it and loved it).
          "Peter O'Toole." I offered.  Obviously the sculpturing elderly was impressed.  He nodded and smiled.   What Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole had to do with early mornings and sculpturing doors being locked, I could not fathom, but attempted to connect the dots as he spoke.  Explanations are especially entertaining from people whom you aren't certain even have a point. I kept nodding my head and smiling, encouraging him to use more words, more quickly, so that I could put the pieces together, but he obviously had his own timing. He reminded me of Jimmy Stewart, pausing statements to verify if I was still listening.
          More or less the plot Audrey Hepburn's father is a talented artist, specializing in forgeries.  A famous statue has been faked, and before it can be examined for insurance claims, they have to steal it back so that no one realizes it was a fake.  I determined I would have to look it up on Netflix.
          After explaining, he could tell that I was still trying to figure out what Audrey and Peter had to do with him wandering Snow College in search of a professor with a key to the sculpting room.  Was he trying to forge a sculpture and then steal it from a museum? Did he too, have hopes of wooing Audrey from her 60's days, and hadn't realized she had been dead for nearly 20 years?  Was he senile enough that I would have to guide him back home in a The Holiday-like fashion? Luckily, I didn't need to.
         "So, you're probably wondering what that movie had to do with my sculpting?"  He smiled, his eyes actually twinkling. (I swear they were) I must have nodded and smiled, looking like a kid talking to santa.
          "Well, you see, I've always wanted to learn how to sculpt, and I have in the past but this time, I wanted to make a statue of my wife." Aw...how sweet...and very Pygmalion! Please tell me she isn't dead? I'm not ready to weep on the floor of a college while waiting for the door to unlock.
             "I've always wanted to do a sculpture of her like Venus de Milo, even if after ten kids she doesn't exactly have the figure for it anymore." He chuckled
              I had to laugh, and almost cry.  Seriously, I couldn't think of a sweeter thing he could have said.  I've realized my dream is to have a husband who in his 70's and after ten kids together can still sculpture a statue of me being Venus de Milo. What a keeper! (I think I fell in love a little bit).  Soon after a teacher walked in, found keys to my Art room and his sculpture room and we separated, but it made me smile for the rest of the day.


          
       

Satsifaction

What do you get when you stop putting out? Emo boys who need to grow up because they realize they can't push you around anymore.  Oh, and mild stalkers apparently:

"Can I come over?"

"Feel free."

"Um, you wanna do something?"

"Not, really, why are you over here hovering anyway? Don't you have a life somewhere else?" 

"Apparently not."

"I guess I should go home."

"Ya think?"

He he he he...yeah, I've kinda gotten my revenge the last few days and man, it was very sweet *evil laughter*

On a different brighter note, I fell in love...again.  With a fictional character...again.  Curse you Le le and your adorable Angel.  Tidus, is seriously the funnest, sweetest, most amazing angel ever.  I *may* have liked him more than Rafe, but that's cause Rafe wasn't as funny (I still love Rafe *sniffle*) Plus he is all dark and melancholy at first.  Yeah, I love him.  Let the pining for non-existent characters begin! I LOVE YOU TIDUS! :P

Annabeth and Percy

So, it's taken me quite some time to read through the Percy Jackson books (I'm halfway through #4 now) and it has been an awesome adventure.  I pretty much love Percy.  Yeah, totally, his character is hilarious, modest, heroic and still a bit bad ass.  I love it, cause he's also so sweet.  And apparently Annabeth kinda likes him too. *spoiler alert*
When I first read the Harry Potter books I was convinced that Hermione and Harry were totally going to end up together, and then as things progressed I realized that that was not the case.  I was kinda sad, cause they seemed like such a perfect couple (although I'm glad Ron and Hermione got together instead, now). With Percy Jackson there seemed to be some Percy / Annabeth hints, but I wanted to ignore them in case I fell for another couple that wouldn't make it. So I was pretty thrilled with Annabeth finally kissed him. It was so unexpected that I think I reacted a little like Percy, I blinked at the page and had to re-read it three times.  What a shocker.  Who knew Annabeth was such a minx! I certainly never expected anything, although Percy's feelings for her have definitely become more evident recently. 
Anyway, so yeah.  I love Percy, he's awesome.  As is Annabeth.  I want them to live happily ever after.  Only one and a half more books to go and I have the whole day off, and it's raining so I won't feel guilty if I just lay in bed and read all day long :P

Joy of Loud Music

I don't know why, but there is something extremely satisfying about playing loud music that I love. I'm not sure if it's a desire to share an elated emotion with the rest of the world, but part of me loves to roll down my windows and "turn up the beat boys". Why does this desire seem so inherent? Being brought up without any rock and roll for the first 12 years of my life (approximately) I've often wondered if I ruined myself by bringing in all the sounds. I don't have to have music playing all the time(in fact right now all I have is the cooler and the sound of my typing) but there is still a great deal of fulfillment that comes to listening to a song I love. Early in live my dad talked to us about the Book of Adam and Eve where some guy went off and made music, convincing the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve to leave their high places and go dance with the children of Cain (or something to that affect) and since then I've wondered, if I feel a beat and want to move with it, does that mean I've succumb to the call of the devil? :P I don't really know. I love music though, and it makes me want to dance and sing and smile and run and be free all at once. Is it something we aren't meant to have because it's so awesome, or something we shouldn't have because it's so bad? Maybe I will never know. I must be a rebel, because part of me thinks I will always love it no matter how bad it is ;)

Lack of Bloggation

Been a while. Hope everyone is doing well. I'm still a little insane. Sometimes I could hit myself with how stupid I am :P Anyway, getting ready for school and still trying faithfully to get my novel accepted by some genius Agent who will just love it. In between times I find I'm a lot less depressed then I have been, probably why I haven't been blogging as much. Writing always makes me feel better. I'm feeling pushed to write more, so after my dry spell I think I'll start writing a bit, maybe even on here. I have an idea for a really great short story, at least I think it's cool, so maybe I'll put the chapters on here. Kudos to Le Le for her short story, I'm really enjoying it, I vote you submit it to our writing club next. Oh, which reminds me I need to send out that email. Oh, and I hate Facebook. It makes me more depressed than almost anything else. All those moms with their cute newborns/6 months old. Yeah I kinda hate them. I need to not spend that monthly hour on facebook crying to myself about how much I want a life and family. It only pisses me off. No one try to cheer me up btw, I'm wallowing for a few minutes thanks! :P I love you guys, have a great insane week!

The Pain of Hell

Pain is a funny thing. It can cloud your mind or clear it.
Laying on my back, I was tied to the table underneath me. It was cold and I was shaking. My body was going through shock and I could see faces above me – different people hovered over me, some I recognized some I didn’t. They weren’t ugly, they weren’t beautiful, they were average. People I couldn’t understand, people I could understand. They were all there, leaning over me. A scalpel here, a knife there. They all used different instruments, but all were used on me. Some were exact cuts, easy to recover from. Others were more vicious as though they whacked at me in anger. I cringed at first, but after so many cuts and so many wounds I became numb. There was only pressure left – the pressure left by pain. The blood eased out of me, but I couldn’t feel it. I just felt weak.
At first I had been anxious, aware, active. I had looked for Him, but He was in the background, watching, but doing nothing. It’s amazing how far away someone seems when they do nothing but watch. Do they care? Are they shocked? Are they happy? What are they feeling? I could still see Him, but it didn’t matter, He wasn’t doing anything, so why was He even there? Why didn't He leave? He had no business here. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t see Him anymore, the pain had flooded my mind like the blood had flooded over my body. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered.
After they were gone, I knew I wasn’t alone. He was still there, watching me, but in silence. I didn’t need to say anything and neither did He. Did I deserve this? Maybe. Probably. Maybe not. That wasn’t the point, we both knew that. Some wounds seemed to be closing up, but others were bleeding profusely. Even though they were gone, their actions remained. The blood still lingered. The pain still hurt. My mind still thought. Everything was the same, and nothing was the same. It all hurt, but I couldn’t feel anything. It throbbed, it was numb, it was there, it was gone. Nothing mattered, everything mattered and He was still there.
His arms were folded and He leaned against the door post. Was He going to leave me? Was He going to stand there all day? I couldn’t see the details of Him, just an aura of what he looked like – lean and tall, dark hair, dark suit, his stance was stiff. Was it in pain? Was it in justice? Was he happy with what had happened to me? Was He pleased or did He hurt? I didn’t know, it didn’t matter. It did matter, it mattered to me, but I couldn’t see. It was fate, it was destiny. It was a ruined life, it was out of control. Everything was destroyed, everything was renewed. There was nothing left, there was everything left. I was ruined, I was whole.
I hurt, the blood was on my hands, the wounds were all over me but the tears were too deep to come. To survive I ignored them, I hated me, I hated them. I fought through it all to live through it all. Did it matter? Did it not matter?
He walked around the room and I knew He was there. I knew He wouldn’t leave until I did. Where could I go? I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t feel. Where would I go? Was He crazy to think I could go somewhere else? Is that what He expected? What the hell? I hated Him, but I knew he didn’t hate me, his aloofness was almost worst. Why couldn’t He hate me for what I had done? Why couldn’t He choose sides? Why couldn’t I?
What the hell.
I was in hell.
My own hell.
But He was still there. Waiting to follow me out.