My Twenty-first Post

This is Squid. Squid is our cat. He lives under my roommate L's bed. He first started living with us in December. He is a playful fellow who enjoys getting into trouble. I think he is absolutely hilarious. I enjoy telling people about him. Which is why I'm putting this up on my blog. Long live Squid.

My Twentieth Post

Today was my last day of classes. Now I pretty much just have finals, but I'm not too stressed about any of them. I have my choir concert tomorrow night, which will be fun. I'm really glad I took a choir class this semester. It's been awesome. And I just might be brave enough to audition for the "big" choirs next fall. That would be so awesome. Anyway. I've also made some forays into the hearts of the 100 Hours Board writers this last week. I made them cookies and took them to their booth in the Wilk. Duchess mentioned the incident on her blog (http://duchessboard.blogspot.com/2006/04/snickerdoodles_14.html)
as did Optimistic
(http://blogtimistic.blogspot.com/2006/04/post-sixty-fifth.html).
I refuse to put in the actual links, because then they could trace them. And I don’t want them to. By not putting in links, I'm cheating the system, stickin' it to the man, flouting the rules, using too many clichés. Whatever

I just thought of a story about how I apparently have absolutely no tolerance for nonconformity. When I was in 6th grade, my class was teamed up with one of the 1st grade classes to be reading buddies. One time, we were supposed to help the smaller kids to type up stories, print them out, and then help them to illustrate them. My kid wanted to make our story about a fairy with green hair and orange eyes. I would not stand for this. I was so set against this simply could not let the 6-year-old have her way. We ended up compromising. We said that the fairy had "green" hair and "orange" eyes, but that "green" really meant golden and "orange" really meant blue in the land of fairies. I wonder what that story actually says about me. I don’t know, and I don’t feel like figuring it out.

My Nineteenth Post

I got a haircut. Actually, I got several hairs cut. Ha ha. That's a lame joke one of my old Spanish teachers used to make all the time. My roommate, A, cut it for me last Saturday after General Conference. I really enjoyed Conference, but I kept drifting off toward the end of every session. This was mostly because I was getting very little sleep, and also because stupid Day Light Savings time stole an entire hour. I'm really glad Arizona doesn't do the whole DLS thing. I hate it not only for the lost hour, but also for the fact that it is now no longer light outside when I wake up. Trying to convince myself to get up when it is dark outside is a battle I often lose... or possibly win (depending on how you look at it).

I like my thoughts. They lead me to the strangest places. And that's a good thing, most of the time.

I have only been attending 2 of my classes this week. That is a bad thing, but I can't convince myself to go to the other classes. Maybe I've got some advanced form of senioritis... about three years in advance, that is. Ha.

My Eighteenth Post

I believe today is the first time I think I have actually been frightened by my laundry--but not for the reasons you might think. See, I had spent the last hour or so alone in my room cleaning, folding laundry, etc. Yet, when I sat down at my computer, my chair was warm, as if someone had just left after sitting for a while. I was really creeped out by this... until I realized that I had been stacking my freshly laundered towels on my desk chair. I had moved them so that I could sit down, and, since they had just been removed from the dryer a short while ago, they left the chair feeling warm. Mostly this is just an example of how paranoid I can be.

Another funny laundry story. I was downstairs doing my laundry when I realized that I really wanted to wash the bra that I was wearing. So, being the quick thinking person that I am, I removed it and tossed it into the washer with the rest of my clothes. This was a really odd thing for me to have done, and I was thinking about it as I went back upstairs to my apartment. By the time I had unlocked the door and walked into the hallway, I was laughing hysterically (don't ask me why... I really can't explain why I found it so funny). Anyway, my roommates demanded to know what I was laughing about. After repeating the story three times so that everyone could hear, we were all inexplicably in hysterics over the situation. Roommates are great. They make me feel like removing my bra in a semi-public place is a perfectly normal thing to do. Plus, I love laughing at silly things, especially if there's a whole group of us laughing.

So I went with H to see a performance of Machinal . It was a short play (it only lasted about half an hour), but it was very well done. It was an expressionist piece that tried to display the contrast between the main character the machine-like world around her. All of the other characters wore dark colors, and had this ever-present rhythm to their speech and movement. This provided a stark contrast to the main character who wore a lovely green dress and floated around barefoot. It really helped to set the scene for the story, which focused on finding freedom from the restraints of the world. Plus, it was free (always a good thing)! I really enjoyed it.

My Seventeenth Post

Monday, Monday...

This is my day:

I have to take a test today.
I have to go to work today.
I should go to class today.
I should do homework today.
I should do my laundry today
I want to read The Lovely Bones today.
I want to watch TV today.
I want to go to FHE today.

My Sixteenth Post

My eldest sister is pregnant. I just found out today. That is exciting news. She's 26, and this will be her third child. It makes me wonder how my life is going to work out. I visited my grandparents in Salt Lake yesterday, and my grandpa asked me if I was going to go on a mission. He caught me quite off guard. It's always been a possibility in my life, but I've never really allowed myself to think about how a it would actually fit into my life. If I went on a mission, I would leave next summer to live in some unknown place for a year and a half of my life. It would completely change the way I think my life will go. H has talked about wanting to go on a mission. She turns 21 this summer. B is also very adamant about wanting to go on a mission when she turns 21. I don't know. What if I get married before then? I sort of have a feeling that I'm not going to get married for several years at least, but I really don't know. After all, two of my former roommates (A and T) are engaged to guys they didn't know a year ago. They're both getting married this summer. It's not completely out of the realm of possibilities that I could meet somebody and get married in the next couple years. I guess I really don't know what I want. Except a new niece/nephew. I do want that. And now I'm going to get one! Yay!

My Fifteenth Post

So last night, I got a call from H.

Me: "Hello?"
H: (sounding distressed) "Hi, Can you come get me?"
Me: "Yeah, where are you?"

I love that I responded that way. A friend needed me, and instead of debating or questioning, my immediate reaction was to do what she needed. I hope I can nurture that quality in myself. Maybe it will help me to be a better friend to the people around me.

My Fourteenth Post

Maybe I'm just not smart enough. I actually think that would make me feel better. Then, it wouldn't be my fault. It would just be circumstantial, and I could console myself that I was doing the best that I can. But as it is, I know I have huge potential. I know I have the ability to be great. So I just have this massive guilt hanging on me for wasting my potential. I wish I was strong enough to make goals. I'm too afraid that if I make them, they'll be hard to keep. So I don't make them. If I don't have goals, I can't fail to reach them. Is all this crap really about fear? Could I make it all go away if I just buck up and put in some hard work? Of course I could. Which is why I feel so guilty for doing what I'm doing. Slacker.

My Thirteenth Post

Once upon a time there was a very lazy girl. She always put off things that she was supposed to do until the last minute. I've never seen such an advanced case of procrastination. Sometimes she didn't finish her tasks, but most of the time she did. Her work was seldom "top notch," but it was satisfactory for the most part, so she didn't let it bother her. She knew she had a problem, but she didn't do anything about it. Life was fine. Until one day, all that changed....

I don't know what happens next. It is unlikely that our heroine will change her ways without some sort of motivation, but I don't know where her motivation will come from. Will it be a good cause? Or a selfish one? Or will the change be forced upon her? In any case, I hope she finds her happily ever after soon. It's got to be stressful living from deadline to deadline, constantly feeling guilty about all the things she should be doing. Plus, one of these days, she's going to mess up big time. I'd hate to be around when that happens.

My Twelfth Post

I just did my laundry. It’s sitting in a laundry basket taunting me. You might be surprised at what it wants me to do. It’s telling me to dump it out onto my bed and take a nap on top of it. I know this would not be a rational thing to do. I should go and fold/hang it up. But it’s got that warm, clean, fresh-from-the-dryer quality right now. And it’s tempting me.