Petrichor

It means the smell of dust after it rains. Petrichor. But I didn't ask you. No, but you were going to. Why is everyone fussing about the rain anyway?

Well, I can't speak for everyone, but I love rain, but getting soaked to the bone and becoming a personalized air conditioner never fails to leach the poetry from it. That's why, on foggy days, my M.O. is often to ready my fortress for siege. I barricade myself in my room with school books piled high in an effort to entice me into work and also just to add to the quiet gloom of the room. Because sad is happy, for deep people. That, of course, doesn't mean that I actually get anything done. Oh no. In fact, rainy days incite about as much academic inspiration in me as sun inspires vampires. Instead of shutting up and doing what's good for me, I always seem to fritter my time away doing silly things like cleaning my room (an ever present chore), baking, and writing. Okay, cleaning and baking hardly ever pass the Uselessness Test, so for the most part those occupations are left undone.

These are some things rainy days make me do: sit on my throne. Write. Read something sad. Think.* Memorize Shakespeare. Pretend I'm a stow-away in a ship waiting for the inevitable when I'm caught and dragged to lunch.

You know what else is brilliant? Rain walks. I usually lack the stamina to stand up on days like these, much less take a mindless stroll (although I am a natural at the mindless part), therefore missing a golden opportunity. Sometimes I'm caught unawares and am able to enjoy the slow, steady drops of heaven tears (like that? I made it up) or the fine, chilly drizzle. I've taken to scorning umbrellas on these occasions. Here in Cali it isn't necessary anyway, not to mention that it would sap all the pleasure from the experience.

The only bummer is when it rains on a Friday. More particularly, when it rains on a Friday when you have two tests to study for. Well, two tests and a lizard. What all this is leading up to is...What I mean to say...I'm so so sorry but...I have till the rain stops and Ireallyshouldstopprocrastinatingandgetthisworkdone.

But before I go, I shall bestow upon you this priceless gift: http://www.rainymood.com/

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

*a shy hobby of mine, done on rare instances when no one is there to see.

2/3

Last night I watched the second episode of Season 3. It was pure bliss. I have officially decided that the best episodes are those that make me want to cry (kudos if I actually do) but also make me laugh out loud. I'm surprised my host's baby brother didn't wake up, what with me screeching with laughter for half the show.

I know I'm going to regret saying this before watching the last episode, but this has been my favorite show of the whole series. To quote a Brit, "Everybody lives, Rose! Just this once, everybody lives!" Oh Moffat. What are we going to do with you?

Speaking of over indulging screen-wise, the other night Merce and I had the house to ourselves, so naturally we watched old Disneys. Okay, not so old, and not all Disneys. I must say, The Road to El Dorado shocked me. I was surprised little kids "grew up" on that sort of stuff. After suffering through that eternal agony, we went with another, light-hearted "kid" movie, How to Train Your Dragon. Let me just say: Hiccup. I watched this movie four years ago in theaters, back when I was self conscious about liking kid movies. Though I remember admitting that it was "cute" I neglected to accept the awesomeness of this character. This guy is so plain awesome. And, just in case I develop any qualms about crushing on a 13 year old animated character, there's another movie coming out in June in which he is of an eligible age. I am way too excited about this movie.

Oh, and my dad says "hi" to all my virtual friends.

I just love animated movies. Tangled is the best and Monster's Inc. has always held a special place in my heart. Pixar is brilliant.

I think I should sign off now before I bore you to death. One can only take fangirling over cartoons for so long. I bid you farewell.

Boxes of People!

I love putting people in boxes. No, not coffins, thank you very much. I love "role playing" real people and trying to predict how they'd react by walking in their shoes. Which brings me to a corny joke.

Before insulting someone, walk a mile in his shoes. That way you'll be a mile away and have his shoes.

The Meyers-Briggs types can be super creepy, actually. If you do it right and read the personality profile it feels like someone's been stalking your mind and read your soul. It's pretty cool. I've realized tons of stuff about me that I've never thought. Like, how I react to other people. They say things that make me think about myself (and now I'm a total centered jerk) and notice when I'm falling into the pot holes my type is prone to. It's the kind of stuff that I've never been able to put a finger on, but I've always hated about myself.

Also, once you know your type you can search for famous people who have your personality! I have some really gnarly ones: Magneto, Napoleon Bonaparte, Steve Jobs, the Green Goblin, Julius Caesar, Harrison Ford, Darth Vadar, Margaret Thatcher, the Evil Queen from Snow White, Aristotle, Yzma, Bill Gates, Fire Lord Ozai, Matt Damon, Lord Voldemort, Adele, Syndrome, Steve Martin, and Sauron.

Wow. All of the fictional characters are bad guys. That's...actually kinda sad. ENTJs are just so mean that we can't be believable unless we're evil. O_o Now I'm going to have to become a major super villain or deal with low self esteem for the rest of my life.

But back to the boxes of people. I just think it's so cool that, to a certain extent, people act the same way. It's possible to track why and how people do things and respond to situations. Isn't that SO AWESOME? It's really rewarding, just reading through my personality profile. Granted, not all of it applies to me, but over 96% is spot on. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one out there that's as weird and twisted as I am. And hardly any of the real people are evil super villains! There is hope yet!

Safe and Sound

San Francisco is an amazing city. It's beautiful. The buildings are simply breath taking, and the views are wonderful too. It's so different from my hometown that I was set to move there within about ten minutes. How awesome would that be? Working at that crazy cool bakery (the name of which escapes me...) by day, wandering the streets and seeing the sights by night? Toats mcgoats.

We didn't arrive in the city till 8pm, and immediately sought to fill our bellies with the infamous clam chowder, so we set off on foot to the wharf. An hour later I was sitting on a bench with my sister, blowing on the blazing hot spoonfuls of deliciousness. After the victuals had been consumed my clan of high schoolers adjusted our route home (aka the floor of a church's gym) to accommodate the Ghirardelli factory (aka heaven). The first thing that hit you when you walked into that divine store was the smell. I've never though of chocolate as having an outstanding scent, but it does, and it smells like heaven. But I repeat myself. It had this gnarly chocolate bath machine that "aerated the mixture to the precise consistency to attain perfection." I lied. It didn't really say that, I just wanted to put something in quotations. Back to the subject: we stood in front of that thing for probably fifteen minutes. And we only moved because a friend had bought hot chocolate and was sharing which inspired multiple others to by their own (it tasted like heaven).

We finally made our way back to the gym, and were surprised that the 300 college who were letting us stay with them weren't there yet. The busses must have been stuck in traffic. After a few minutes of milling around and staking our claims to the best corners of the room we got down to business with a game of canasta. It was fun, but then again, pretty much everything is fun at 1 in the morning. It was one of the most uneventful/longest games I've ever played. By that time the students had arrived and we scattered and went our separate ways. I went straight to bed and snatched 6 of my 7 hours of sleep on the trip.

Evening came, and morning followed: the first day.

Wake up call was coming at 8am, so in order to get ahead of the rush a few girls (aka almost half of them) woke up at the un-godly hour of 7, rousing me in the process. I finally gave up all hope of going back to sleep and got dressed. There was nothing to do afterward, so I wasted an hour and a half sitting in the dark, writing. It was actually kind of fun. I was pretending I was in some sort of prison camp and couldn't be caught writing. My back still hurt from sleeping on the floor and I was hungry, both of which aided the illusion.

Mass was at the San Fran Cathedral. Can I be the first to say "ugh"? On the outside it looked like a failed bomb attack (no, actually the bomb) and on the inside it was a beehive crossed with a concentration camp crossed with something that would have a sparkly gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was standing room only, so we sort of clumped up together behind the pews alongside about 200 other people. It was crowded. I was pretty skeptical before Mass started. It didn't look like a church, and it certainly didn't feel like one, what with billions of conversations going on. I've been to sports games that were quieter than that. But I was surprised. The Mass beautiful (or at least what I could see of it from behind those tall heads) and the bishop gave a really nice homily.

After the Mass we walked back to the van (which was parked over by where the walk would start) to eat lunch before marching. It took longer than expected, and we had to race up to the street in order to get there at 12:30. Well, we should have known, but everything was late. We ended up standing around for almost 2 hours. Granted, they were an excited 2 hours. Mercy got lost, and I got to brave the crowd of 60,000 to find her. It was an adventure. Even still, it only lasted about half an hour, so we had tons of time to waste. It would have been awesome if we'd stood where the speakers could be heard, but we didn't, so we missed a bunch of great speeches and rallies.

Okay, NOW I can talk about the Walk itself.

I would have felt a lot more helpful if we'd been praying or something, as opposed to just walking through the street, but, of course, the fact that we were being witnesses to the truth made it all worth while. It was pretty terrifying, actually. The street we marched on was lined with immense sky scrapers that loomed over us. Even backed by 60,000 Pro-Lifers it was quite daunting. One thing that really struck me was the protestation. It was really sad. These people were so misguided and uninformed. One of the mens' more prominent signs read, "Don't let those men bully you!" It made my heart race. I mean, think about it. 57 MILLION babies have been killed because of people like this. A lot of the women held signs saying stuff like, "trust yourselves, ladies." I wish they could trust other women to accept motherhood, not nip it in the bud. It was one of the scariest things I've ever experienced, and coming from a girl with an over active imagination, that's saying a lot.

Afterward it was more of the same. We finished the walk and made our way back to the van after grabbing a bite to eat. This time we made a detour through Chinatown, which had tons of cheap tourist attractions, like license plates with your names on it. Well, as long as your name was Claudia or Wesley. My friend was surprised to hear that Wesley was a real name, and we started talking about Princess Bride. Later, the same friend, who was ahead of me, burst into laughter and dragged me to the window of a shop. They had their TV on, playing Princess Bride in Chinese. Small world doesn't even cut it.

We were back at the parking lot around 6 and began the return journey. There was another five hours of Huck Finn interrupted by dinner at 8 again and various groggy eyed conversations. Well, they weren't so groggy-eyed after dinner, at which Mercy somehow got a hold of a mocha frappe and rationed it to almost the whole back two rows. THAT was crazy.

Towards the end of the trip I started nodding off then jerking myself awake. This was mainly because I had been thinking about the walk which merged into a dream. In the dream portion I would always be interviewed by a reporter or confronted by a protester, which inevitably ended in me making a fool of myself and my cause, tensing up in embarrassment, and jumping awake every ten minutes. It was almost stressful, but not half as bad as it would have been in real life.

Well, we were home by 1:30am, which means I had been gone for less than 36 hours. It still feels like so much more, in a good way :)

The moral of the story: pray for an end to abortion.
The alternate moral of the story: car trips go by so much faster if everyone either a) sleeps or b) gets hyped up on caffeine.

Walk for Life

I'm heading out to San Fran for the walk for life in moments. Prayers for safety and that we are sufficient witnesses to the truth would be appreciated! I'll probably have loads to talk about when I get back, so stay tuned!

SHERLOCK

It's here. It's finally here. The episode we've all been waiting for. After two years The Empty Hearse has arrived, bringing with it unfathomable mixed feelings. I seriously don't know what to think about this. I've been waiting for so long that, I must admit, it was disappointing. Not the way I would have done it.

*MAJOR SPOILERS*

So, first off, can I say that I love John? He's just so believable. He really brings the show down to earth and humanizes it. Doesn't need a wink and a smile and a wink to do it either.

Secondly, I'm pretty sure that I officially hate Sherlock. Like, seriously. There were about three to many practical jokes made at poor Dr. Watson's expense.

Now, about Sherlock's fall: I really can't decide. I'm sure that I would have been disappointed any way that they did it, but that doesn't justify leaving us in the lurch. Personally, I would have been content with Anderson's theory. It worked; it was classy. Anything is better than a bouncy house.

Mary. Yes. I love her. I was sad to see Sarah go, way back in the first season, but Mary beats her hands down. She's perfect for John, and will contribute a lot to the show.

The effects in this episode left something to be desired. Namely, nothing. I kept being shocked into reality whenever Sherlock went into his Mind Palace. It was just too much.

I really did love how all the characters reacted. Mrs. Hudson was priceless, Lastrade was sweet, and John should have socked him in the jaw sooner. But despite this, it worked our pretty perfectly.

Oh! There's another thing I loved! I've seen two out of the three theories on the internet. The writers must have had a lot of fun trolling their fandom's Pinterest and fanfic sites for that!!

Even still, the show must have been partially successful because I cried twice. It would have been more, if it wasn't for that funny scene change from the train car to the joke on Anderson. The thing is that I never (like, ever) cry for Sherlock's sake. I just really really sympathize with John, and the only times I've ever wanted to cry for Sherlock it turns out he's just fooling everyone and I now look like an idiot. Even in Rachenbach I only started bawling my eyes out when John was visiting at his grave. 

"Don't be dead"

Oh gosh.

*END NOT SO MAJOR SPOILERS*

Here I am, at the end of this ranting/praising post, and I still don't know my overall opinion. Maybe I'll just wait till the other two come out. That'll give me two years to construct my decision before Season 4. This is sad.

Third Place!!

Last night was possibly the funnest dance I've ever been to. Now I'm not going to be able to do it justice, but it was seriously wonderful. It was a birthday dance for an acquaintance, so I had some doubts going into it, but, like I said, it turned out to be the best ever.

It's really hard to explain things like dances. Really it's just an accumulation of hundreds of little excitements and joys which, added together, equal pure epicness. It was just a mad dash of fun. The excitement when someone asks you to dance. The giddiness when it's over. The chats around punch and snacks.

Okay, I lied. There is one story which I will tell you about last night. After that I'll try my hardest to shut up about it. We'll see how that pans out.

There was kind of a lull in the music. They'd been playing some weird country songs that were next to impossible to dance to, so I was standing with some friends, gorging myself with birthday cake and laughing about the music. One of the songs ended and the MC announced that there would be a slew of waltzes coming up, including a waltz contest. There was nothing to lose, and they said there were prizes, so a few of us took our places on the floor.
I've only ever officially learned the box step, and my partner was in pretty much the same boat, so we just joked around the whole time, and made up about half a dozen moves. It was a blast. We had a slow spin and a double time spin, a dip and a back to back and a promenade. Then we combined everything and did them one after another with only minor injuries. Toes heal quickly, I've been told.

The song ended (is it just me, or do waltzes last like twice as long as other songs?) and we kind of clumped up again. I was parched, so I ran off to get a drink, and they started announcing the finalists without me. I couldn't really hear, but I could have sworn that they said "Abby and her partner." Then I heard "Mercy and her partner." I ran back to congratulate her, and half way there receive a hug from my partner. We'd BOTH made the finals! And then we heard our other friends called up. So, out of the four competing couples, three of them were from my friends! It was pretty gnarly. In the end Mercy and I tied for 3rd, my friend got second, and the birthday girl's brother and his fiance won first. But it was so fun I can't even talk.



Just really quickly:

• A few posts ago I talked about our youth group. It's turning out really well! Our first meeting of the year was on Tuesday, and I think it was very coherent and well oriented throughout the night. Let's hope it stays that way!!
• I'm really tired right now and am not looking forward to four hours of Irish dancing today
• I'M WATCHING SHERLOCK TONIGHT! It's going to be so amazing I can't even think. Oh my gosh. This is really happening, peoples!

Growing Up

Haha. Yes, I do see you snickering to yourself. What does she know about growing up? She's what, 16? And not the tallest girl in the room either.

Actually, that's saying a lot since no one else is in the room. *groaner* Moving on.

This year I've been thinking quite a lot about the future, but this week I've been repeatedly reminded of the past. My past, which obviously includes some interesting stories.

A few weeks ago after Mass I got to chatting with a young mom and, since we hadn't talked in a while she used the old fall back conversation. You know the one. "I remember when you were yea high..." and the like. At the time all I could think about was how mortally embarrassing the whole situation was, but now I'm able to appreciate it for what it was, a disturbingly accurate story foreshadowing my (then) future.

"You were this small, little thing," then, catching herself, "You must have been three." Unfortunately, the height which she had motioned would have also been my 4 year old height, 5 year old height, and probably 6 year old height. But I digress. "We were in Bakersfield for someone's first Communion and afterward we went to your aunt and uncles house (you remember them?) for the reception. You were in some pink frilly dress and you were feeling very girly. You came outside where there were a bunch of little boys rough housing and, well, being boys. Out you come, and from across the yard I hear your distressed voice, "Kids. Kids! Stop that! Someone might get hurt!"

o_O

Then yesterday I was thinking about past birthdays and came across this spare memory.

It was probably my 6th or 7th birthday and for a present my grandma invited me for a sleepover. Now I realize that that was my parents' scheme for getting us kids out of the house for a big surprise, but then I was blissfully ignorant. After breakfast my grandma apologized about not wrapping my present, and pulled out a bicycle horn. It was pink and made the most obnoxious noise and I loved it. I thought it was the beez kneez. I am ashamed to admit, though, that when, later that day, I received a pink bike from my parents I was absolutely surprised and thrilled. Like, I had NO idea that I'd get a bike.

I still do that, to some extent. I won't look at Christmas or birthday presents because I might inadvertently guess what's inside. I love expecting things too much that if I'm wrong I'm disappointed in whatever I get, so I just ignore all clues until it's time to open the present. And there is yet another profound insight into my soul. Peach out.

I'm All In

Or I need to be. That's what life is. It isn't sitting around waiting for something great. YOU need to make it great. Heck, I watched Walter Mitty three times, and only now am I getting this.

Last semester my swim coach/Joe's Confirmation sponsor left for Peru to become a missionary. I admitted that it was pretty gnarly, but left it at that. Today Joe received a letter from him. My mom read it out loud, so I was momentarily distracted from my Biology (and I still am). It was powerful. Paul is working with dozens of penniless orphans who have nothing, yet still have everything to lose. He's helping them learn to pray, and trying to take care of their needs, but there just isn't enough to give them all. So he's given them his all.

He said that all of these kids have lived through more than he'd ever imagined possible. Most never knew their parents, and others were abused beyond sanity. He talked about being helpless to help them.

I'm glad I was in the other room (still within earshot) because tears were literally streaming down my face. It really struck a chord. I am really selfish; just about everything I do can be traced back to ME. Hearing about someone going all in, committing his whole life to helping those who have less than nothing, it's just incredible.

One of my latest fears has been The Future. What will I do with my life after college? I still don't know, but I do know what I want to do all the time. I want to bring Christ to others, loving Him through them.

5, 7, 5

Yesterday was pretty spontaneously jam-packed. Mass times were moved half an hour earlier, so I had to get up at an indecent hour in order to get to choir on time. Funny thing, though. During Mass I noticed that my voice felt a little scratchy. Is it a bad thing that the first thing I thought was, "Yeah! Now I can get out of talking in Religion class tomorrow!" and promptly began belting out the hymns at the top of my voice. It didn't go exactly according to plan. I'm talking now AND have a sore throat. What goes around, comes around...

After Mass we went to watch some friends' basketball game, and then--surprise surprise!--invited everyone over to my house afterward! It was super fun. I taught almost everyone how to play canasta (a really cool rummy-like card game), beat some people at fooseball (okay. And got beat), and failed miserably at pool. Actually, that was a little annoying, but since all of you read Josie's blog you will already know about that whole episode.

After The Episode we girls (Merc, Josie, and I) retreated inside to play cards and when the boys invaded to play too Josie challenged me to a haiku contest. It was glorious. Haikus are so wonderful. It's like poetry, but without the committal. And, because you're SO interested in all of this I'll show you the fruits of our labor.

Round One: Fandom
Josie:
An army doctor,
Craning his head to the clouds.
A final goodbye.

Abby:
Trench coat and Converse
The man of many faces
Lands his TARDIS here.

Round Two: Fandom
Josie:
A scheming spider
Smiling into a teacup:
"I owe you a fall."

Abby:
Screaming as we watch
Sherlock fall; John cry; Smith leave
We are the fangirls.

Round Three: Fandom (notice a pattern?)
Josie:
Smiling and timid,
Deserves more than a simple
"Black, two sugars please."

Abby:
We're not exclusive
BBC amuses us
Moffat for the win.

Round Four: Random
Josie:
We talk for hours,
Way too much time on our hands,
What about "real life?"

Abby:
We're five, Seven, Five
We hardly ever make sense
Then end suddenly.

Round Five: Excitement
Josie: 
Close enough to taste.
Only one more week away,
Just THREE episodes.

Abby: 
Squeals squeak from lips
Bubbly butterflies inside
Beaming face tells all.

Round Six: Avengers
Josie: 
Battle for New York
This is the day of heros
Victory for the Earth!

Abby:
Some men have powers
They meet in times of trial
Save the day again.

Some of my personal favorites are Josie's round 2 and my round 4, if I do say so myself :) That one was especially fun to write.

Other news:
Another week till Sherlock.
A week into school I'm starting to repent of my post about liking school.
The seminar got moved to Saturday so I have a whole week to finish the Virginian.
Going to a dance on Sunday.
That is all. Till next time!

Cowboys and Youth Group

I started the Virginian today. It really isn't the sort of book I'd pick up off the shelf and read of my own accord,  but there's a seminar tomorrow so I'm giving it a shot. I'm a slow reader, but it gets depressing to see that, after four hours of almost straight reading I've only gotten a third of the way through the book. Looks like I'll avail myself of spark notes tomorrow night...

Let me just point something out. The Virginian is exactly like Sherlock Holmes. I noticed it about thirty pages into it, and it's still bugging me after a hundred more. But seriously, it's uncanny. It is written about an idealized character from the point of view of his "side kick." Sherlock and the Virginian are both set apart from human beings normal people. And...and...that's all I've got. Just the feel gives off that sort of feel.

And now for a totally unrelated subject.

Before I begin, let me give you some backstory. Back in 2012 (it's really weird to type that) my local parish started our very own youth group. It was a hit, and brought together a lot of different groups of friends (aka not only homeschoolers :) ) to discuss our faith, pray, and play hangman. And musical chairs. A lot of musical chairs. Well, lately I've been noticing that the general populace has been not entirely thrilled about how the whole thing is turning out. No, nothing scandalous, but just not perfect. Actually, I've been noticing from both sides of the spectrum. I'm friends with one of the leaders sisters, so I've known her all my life(ish). She was unhappy that some of the kids were so uninterested in the more serious aspects of youth group. Another leader wasn't happy also, and started being super uptight about everything. Now, some of my friends are, shall we say, utterly insane and immature. They may or may not have been the trouble makers in question. But they have their own story too. The uptight leader is very touchy-feely and sentimental (we spent almost a whole hour coloring one time). My friends were getting bored of discussions (which hardly ever got off the ground) and playing hangman and took to...well, troublemaking. 

And I was getting stressed out because I didn't want to be a pain, but it would be so much more fun to goof off the whole time. So I proposed a plan. A few weeks ago I shot off an email to my leader friend, and today we me at Rabalais' to hash it all out. We brainstormed and came up with some really cool ideas. All I can say is that I'll be lobbying with a few others to take a more active role in the community. Helping with the soup kitchen, praying at the abortion clinic, going on mission trips and cool stuff like that. And, hopefully, even the regular meetings will be more fruitful. I know it'll take some time to readjust (especially because none of these leaders have the same idea) and even longer to put most of these plans into action, but there's always the possibility, and now the probability!

*Insert Something Clever About School and Break and Stuff*

My short lived three weeks of freedom have elapsed, and I am officially doing school again. I thought I'd hate it, but honestly, I was starting to miss it. I'm such a people person that if I don't have a legitimate occupation I need to be with friends. School is said occupation. By the end of every break I begin to worry if everyone's tired of me begging them to come out of their lives to go shopping or play soccer or watch a movie. School's probably a nice break for my friends :)

It was quite an amazing break, though, while it lasted. For Christmas I got soccer goals and since then we've played three times. I've been shopping way more than is good for me, and would say the same about frequenting the local coffee shop, except that it's been closed for Christmas vacation. There've been lots of spontaneous parties and trips to the movie theater, usually resulting in an after party at my house. Tons of foosball and pool and staying up way too late for anyone's good. It's been so great, but I was starting to run out of ideas. It'll be nice to have the regularity of school for a while.

Ah, school school school. I really don't know what to do with you.

Speaking of school, talking to frenemies acquaintances can be majorly demanding, especially when they're adults. Call me an anti-social homeschooler, but that's the thing I dread most about the holidays. "What grade are you in?" "What college are you going to?" "What are you doing when you grow up?" They ask them every time. Literally. It really wouldn't be so bad, except that I'm having a really hard time deciding that myself. I'm not academically inclined at all. Nothing like that really holds my interest. But nothing that actually interests me would be something I can make a living out of. Swim team and soccer are fun, but I'm not good enough to even get a scholarship, let alone use them as a career. I like baking, but there's the same problem. I love organizing things, but that really isn't specific enough. Whenever those questions come up I basically flounder around for a few minutes trying to defend my decision to go to Catholic (synonymous with "closed minded" doncha know) college and that I'll wait and see where to go from there.

Uhg. The trials of an undecided homeschooler.

These posts have been getting randomer and randomer. I think what I'll start doing is just posting a lot of really little posts instead of covering so much ground. And I suppose this doesn't affect you at all. Oh well. Sorry for wasting ten seconds of your time.

Happy school!!

Happy Christmas, New Year, Epiphany, Sleep Day- what?

While trying to come up with a name for this post I googled January 3rd holidays, just for fun. With my new-found knowledge I'd like to wish you all a Happy Sleep Day.

Instead of talking about my Christmas presents and New Years resolutions I have this random blurb for you. 

I am theoretically opposed to swearing. I'm not sure if it was ever a conscious choice, or if I've always stretched the second commandment a little out of proportion, but that's the way things are. But I'd be the first to admit the usefulness of the common exclamatory remark, and of it's benefits. For one: sometimes you just need to vent your surprise/anger/mood. I, personally commandeer the term "darn!" (and variations thereof) as much as is physically possible. The second positive attribute, though related closely with the first, needs its own paragraph altogether.

One of my least favorite character flaws is my inability to think and act simultaneously. I can rest on one extreme or the other, but have never been blessed with the happy medium. 

When I'm in my "thinking" mindset I often toy with the idea of cussing, not from a legitimate compulsion to do so, but for its results. Let me paint you a picture.

There I am, in any given setting, being dwarfed by my surroundings, looking altogether peaceful and innocent. My mom comes in and strikes up a conversation. I smile and nod, then BAM! She's rolling on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes. Unpredictable!

I think it has something to do with the spontaneousness of it all. If you know me, then you have most likely never heard me utter anything less G rated than "darn". In fact, if you don't know me than you probably haven't, either.

Now, let me lead you to the other, far-off extreme of my personality. It is, to put it in a nutshell, my blond side. Who actually thinks before they speak anyway? Obviously not me...

There have been two memorable experiences of me swearing. Scratch that. I can hardly remember the first, so I'll just tack on the interesting bits of that story onto this second episode. Kind of like when you tell a dream.

Well that escalated quickly.

Ahem.

We're loosing 17 to 23. It's tense. The cold, California breeze picks up, sending shivers up my arms. I shift my weight nervously from foot to foot.

"SerVICE!"

The ball sails effortlessly over the net and my team repulses it. The rally has begun.

Bump. Set. Spike. Kill.

It bounced giddily from player to player. Our sad excuse for a spike is caught easily and sent soaring to me. It's perfect. I don't even have to run. I follow the ball's progress until it lands...on my elbow? A word escapes me as the ball shoots off the court.

I look around me. The faces of my teammates echo my own surprise, disappointment, amusement. Sorry, what? Why is he laughing? IT'S NOT FUNNY.

I realize that I'd not actually *heard* the word I said. The feeling of utter shame had simply escaped me in the form of a word. I do a speed rewind in my mind of the past two seconds. I can hear the word lingering in my mind, said with so much passion even now it makes my blood run cold:

*Darn* it".

The moral of the story: "darn it" is not as bad as you can get while trying to swear.