The Far Side of Finals Week

IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!

I made it through Finals Week alive! Also, I actually did really well on all of my tests! I can handle college after all! (*does a little dance*) . . . (*okay, maybe not so little*)

You'd better believe it, Mr. Spock!

Sigh. Anyway, just thought I'd let you know I'm still here and as sane as I ever was. I hope you're all as excited for Christmas as I am.

Oh yeah! Christmas!

My roommates and I made a Christmas Card Email together to send out to all our families and friends, to let everyone know what life is like at Apartment 109. If any of you got this email and are confused, let me preemptively say,

I KNOW I'M NOT IN THE PICTURE.

The picture was taken at a party that Alyssa and I didn't go to. So it only has four of the six girls in it. Also, I know we forgot to caption the pictures, so I'll just explain right now: from left to right - Alli, Jerina, Marisa, and Xan.

And for those of you so unfortunate as to NOT have received a Christmas Card Email from me, I promise it's only because I don't have your email. If you would like me to send you one, please let me know. And just so you know, it's a pretty rockin' card. You want one.

Anyway, I'm home in Springville for now. I just laze around and eat my parents' food. It's pretty great. It took me a while to realize that I really have NOTHING to do for the next two weeks, school-wise. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. It's a wonderfully freeing feeling.

I hope all of you are having a great holiday as well. I hope you're all with your families and reconnecting with old friends to tell them you love them. Read your scriptures. Do service. Get in a snowball fight.

Merry Christmas!

No Time to Say Hello . . .

Movie Madness

I watched SOOOOO many movies over Thanks-giving Break. Most of them were repeats, but it was the first time I got to see Pixar's "Up." I had heard a lot of good stuff about it, and I was not disappointed. It was brilliantly done.

And can I just say that I LOVE Russell? SO MUCH!

"The wilderness must be explored! Caw caw! RAWR!"



Other movies I saw over the break:

Pocahontas: Aw, Disney goodness. And a movie with a pseudo-thanksgiving theme. I mean, it's got pilgrims and Indians, right?

Hercules: I forgot how lovably nerdy that kid was. And actually, I forgot most of the wonderful things about this movie. The gods are all really funny, Hades definitely included. I'd highly recommend re-watching this one if it's been a while since you last saw it.




Star Trek: Does anything really need to be said about the innate awesomeness of this movie? I mean, look at those two!




Angels and Demons: It's a great book. Most of the value in the movie comes simply from the fact that it's a visual representation of the book. We wanted to see it on the screen. If you don't know the story behind the movie, it's probably not so great. However, it DOES have Ewan McGregor in it . . . (*swoons*)


Valkyrie: This one was actually an accident. My dad tricked me into it. That said, it was probably my favorite. Even over Up.

If you're unfamiliar with the plot, it is based on a real-life attempt by a group of German soldiers to assassinate Adolf Hitler during World War II. It's an incredible story, and it's true, which makes it a very powerful movie. If you have any interest in history at all (cough cough ERIC AND LOGAN cough cough) then you should definitely check this movie out. Even if you don't really like history, it's a fantastic movie. So, pretty much there's no excuse for you not to watch it.

* * *

And now you pretty much know the extent of my Thanksgiving Break. Pretty much the only other things I did were eat good food, sleep like a bear, and turn nineteen.

Oh yeah, that. It was my birthday on Sunday. In case you missed it. I'm officially "old" now. Nineteen years old. Geez, in another year I'll be in my twenties. My sister Hannah thinks I'll get married when I'm twenty, like my mom. The rest of my family keeps reminding her that I'd need to get a man first. If only it weren't for that little obstacle . . .


EDIT:

I just remembered two other movies I saw over the break. (I told you, I watched a TON.) They are -

Happy Feet - Aw, I wish our society used heartsongs to find our true loves! Also, I think Elijah Wood makes a good penguin, don't you? So do Hugh Jackman and Robin Williams (though, Robin Williams is pretty much hilarious no matter what species he is).

and

New Moon - (*evil grin*) I laughed a LOT during this movie. And it wasn't too big of a problem until my biggest laughing fit, which came during a really "serious and dramatic" part. I nearly died trying to hold it in. I went to see the movie with my little sisters Sam and Cari. Cari alternated between gushing over the movie and laughing with me about it. Sam just looked really irritated the whole time. Who could blame her? Prognosis on "New Moon": The filmmakers did a good job with the material they had. Bella still looks like she got hit in the head with a rock every time she talks, though.

Ode to an Essay

O cursed wretch am I! O loathsome fate!
To struggle in my mind's dark, empty shaft
And torture self to write something of weight
To push toward that gloried final draft.
My pen leaves trails of blood as testament.
My sweat and tears have soaked the paper through.
I eat and breathe this essay every day.
And as I weep from effort's long torment
Myself I offer sacrifice unto
Whichever god can help me scrape an A.

- Jessica Grosland



P.S. In case you are unfamiliar with the rules for structure in Ode-writing, let me clear a few things up:

There are three main guidelines. An Ode:
1) Must be ten lines to a stanza.
2) Must be in iambic pentameter. (ten syllables, with every other syllable emphasized)
3) Must follow the rhyme form ABABCDECDE.

There. You're smarter now. Aren't I a gem?

A Note From Valeri

To Whom it May Concern:

My employer, Ms. Jessica Grosland, is unavailable at present. She wishes to convey her sincerest apologies that she has been unable to post recently, but hopes that her faithful readers will understand the dilemma she currently faces.

Ms. Grosland had been working incredibly long hours over the last week, pushing herself mentally and physically to the extreme limit. She has been preoccupied with midterms, papers, research, presentations, and other schoolwork to the exclusion of almost all else. The exception to that is a newfound obsession with a novel entitled Mistborn. She sleeps and she eats, but only when absolutely necessary.

As her personal secretary, I extend her plea for understanding during this rather disastrous week. She is working on several more entertaining post which will come forthwith, but until she has regained her composure she fears that her readers will have to endure the absence of her clever witticisms for a while yet.

Cordially yours,

Valeri Comstock

Happy Birthday To An Old Friend

With our long and twisted history

Of honesty and mystery;

The good times, and the bad as well,

From Brookside, through and on past "Hell";

Sharing dreams and schemes and fears,

Music, laughter, even tears;

It matters not how far you get,

How long it's been since last we met.

You are so rooted in my heart

That we can never be apart.


- Jessica Grosland

Some Most Exciting News!

I GOT MY OWN LAPTOP!!!!



Hurray! Now I can do my schoolwork/emailing/messing around at home instead of having to find an Open Access Lab on campus. It is SOOOO wonderful! I am basically infatuated. Also, I named him Nosferatu.

More exciting news: I got promoted at work!

Now, instead of doing Garbages, my new assignment is Floors. Basically, I walk around a lot. First I have to walk around and pick up all the giant heavy mats and move them out of the way. Then I take my faithful dust-mop and circle the entire floor looking for deviant dustbunnies. After that's over, I break out The Machine.



As you may have guessed, this is The Machine. It scrubs the floor with two little circular pads on the front, then vacuums the excess water with that squeegee thing on the back. I push it around for an hour or so, and the whole time I feel like an old man. (The thing only moves about 1.5 mph, so it takes quite some time to walk down those long hallways.) The best part is that I get to use this awesome chemical called VMC 30 - which I'm not technically trained on, so don't tell my supervisor - and it is one of the best-smelling chemicals we work with that won't kill you if you're alone in a room with it for too long.

The sad news is that the reason I got this job is because the ever-hilarious Mike Lemon quit our crew. (*sobs*) Seriously, if you only knew him, you would understand the enormity of this tragedy. Here, I think I have a picture of him from Halloween.


Yup. There his is. He went as a . . . fifties cop, I think. Anyway, he's hysterical in more ways than one, but everyone who works at four in the morning is a little nutty. We use our insanity to compensate for lack of sleep. And besides, everything is really funny that early in the morning.

Okay, last bit of exciting news.

MY BIRTHDAY IS IN 18 DAYS!!!


I know this picture's kind of hard to see, but that's my birthday written on our calendar in my apartment. Doesn't looking at it just make you want to celebrate? My roomies are the best!

I'm going to be nineteen, and so are SOOOO many of my friends who have birthday in this most awesome of months. So let me take just a second to wish a happy birthday to:

Tairsa Brown (19)
Jake Gibby (19)
Logan Brown (19)
Jerina Dement (18)
Robert Grosland (73)
and anyone else I may have forgotten.

Also, it's my Grandma Grosland's birthday on the 28th. She died a little over six months ago, and this is the first time I'll have a birthday without celebrating hers the day before. But I'm not too depressed about it. If I know my grandma, they'll try to throw her this totally awesome "we're angels so let's rent out Cloud Nine" party, and she'll turn them down because all she wants is to play a thrilling game of Phase 10.

Anyway, Happy Veterans Day everybody. God Bless America.

AHA!!!

I finally figured out how to put pictures on my blog from BYU!!!! Surely there will be no end to the chaos now!!! (*evil laughter*)

So, anyways . . .

This is a picture of my apartment complex (aka, The Riv):



Beautiful, innit? Yeah, I know you're all jealous. You wish that you could live in a building where the oven runs on hellfire, the furnace is having an identity crisis, and the most populous items in the cupboards are popcorn and marshmallows. It's pretty much da bomb.

Plus, you never know who's gonna be in your house when you come home. It's great!

Okay, so I wake up at three o'clock in the morning and walk along that very sidewalk (only it's not as colorful in the dark). Then I turn the corner and am greeted by someone who is now an old friend:



Yes, it's Life-Size Stump that Looks Like a Guy Leaning on a Car! No, really, this stump and I go way back. See, when I'm walking at three-ish in the morning and I turn the corner, all I can see is this silhouette of something big and menacing leaning up against a parked car. For the first three weeks I jumped every time I turned the corner, thinking that there was some creepy rapist standing there waiting for me. I finally got used to it, though. Even if, truthfully, I have to remind myself every time I'm approaching the corner, "Okay. There's gonna be a big ol' scary monster as soon as you make this turn, but don't worry. It's only a stump."

And then I make it through work and - hopefully - all of my classes. But even as the students walk along with bright smiley faces, blissfully chiming "Hello!" to each and every person who makes eye contact with them, there is a constant threat of which we are all painfully aware, and to which we are all vulnerable:



SLEEP. Upon entering college, all students unwittingly become susceptible to narcolepsy. The Sandman works overtime on campus, and you can see his victims sprawled endlessly over the battlefield: collapsed upon textbooks, on the lawn, or into food trays. I have already discovered my favorite place to pass out on campus (besides my Sociology class). It's on the third floor of the JKB. Good times.

REALLY SHORT SUMMARY OF CURRENT EVENTS:

* I told Jimmy I can't date him more than twice in a row because I don't want to "go steady." He promised he would respect my rule, but confessed that he couldn't say he liked it too much.

* Halloween on campus was great. My favorite costume was a Mario who had theme music with him where ever he walked.

* I'm mad at Scott Evans because he's a slacker and hasn't sold me a Choir Dinner ticket yet.

* I'm taking a Mission Prep class. I have a Preach My Gospel and we're setting goals and practicing missionary experiences and everything. I think I might actually do it, you know. And I'll probably be pretty good, because I still have two more years to practice.

* My birthday is in 27 days.

And . . . that's all for now. But I'm planning to take many more pictures now that I have something to do with them.

True Story

I know I'm always extra-sensitive to creaky branches and bumps in the night on my way to work, but today I swear I had a real haunting.

All morning I had been plagued by inexplicable noises and open doors that were supposed to be locked. Being a writer - with a CRAZY imagination - I of course jumped to conclusions and started freaking myself out every time. But I'm also fairly intelligent, so I told myself over and over that there was nothing in my suspicions. So I kept working, alone in the lofty halls of the JFSB. But I couldn't shake the feeling, and I kept turning around, thinking there was someone behind me.

Then finally when I was in one of the lobbies I glanced up to look out the long windows lining the north wall. It was still dark outside, so I couldn't see much of what was outside; mostly just my own reflection. And then I froze as I saw the reflection of a dark figure pass quickly behind me.

I spun around.

There was no one there. I ran around the corner. No one. I hadn't heard any footsteps, but still I checked all the neighboring hallways, the exits, trying to find the person who had been just behind me. I never did. But I am absolutely sure that I saw someone. If only for an instant. Someone . . . or something.

Feeling strangely unreal I went back to my job, now uncertain if I was alone after all.




(*creepy music*)







---

---

---



(P.S. In case you wondered, I'm still falling. But I'm hoping to bounce.)


Edit: Since there appears to be some confusion on the issue, let me clarify:
Was I scared? Yes.
Was it really creepy? Yes.
Did being haunted totally make my day? YES.

Falling

Life Update

Wow. I've never received so many comments so fast on any of my blog posts as I did on the last one. Thanks to everyone who said that they like my posts. Why any of you want to read on and on about me being stalked by a duck . . . I just don't understand you people.

Anyway, I've been really, really busy all week. This is pretty much the first time I've been able to just sit at a computer and surf the internet. It was nice. But I'm starting to learn something about college life: Every week is hard. Every day makes me tired. Every activity is draining.

That's why God invented chocolate. And wonderful friends who bring you soup and freshly baked bread.

More about my life right now . . . . I'm rereading Ender's Shadow, for the billionth time. I just really like that book, okay? I've taken to walking around campus with my nose shoved between the pages, and I've almost been run over twice. But my life is full of people trying to run me over, so that's nothing worth bothering about.

Work is good. Ridiculously early, but good. I've been promoted again. Now I'm a Lieutenant Jr. Grade. I'm moving right on up through the ranks. If I keep going like this, I might become Chief Medical Officer someday!

I still haven't gotten the Swine Flu. I'm kind of disappointed. I've always wanted to be part of an epidemic.

I have another date with Jimmy tonight. Poor kid. He has NO IDEA what he's getting himself into. My roommates are already begging me to invite them to our wedding. (Girls? We're not going to get married! Give it a rest!)

Plus, did I ever mention that I hate dating? I really do. I mean, sure, when I don't date I feel like a loser. But then when I finally get a date I'm reminded of how very much I hate them. Don't get me wrong. It has nothing to do with the guy, or the activity, and when I'm actually on the date I almost always have a great time. But there's something about having a date hanging over my head that just makes me sick to my stomach.

Also, we (the girls from 109) successfully smuggled an illegal goldfish out of our apartment for cleaning checks yesterday.

:)

See, we didn't buy them. They were given to us. And it didn't occur to me until three days into it that we weren't allowed to have pets. There were originally twelve of them, I think. That was a week or so ago. There is only one left. He's a survivor.

Life is still full of more misery and woe than I would like, but Halloween is coming up. Be happy.

Confessional

Forgive me, followers, for I have sinned.

Yes, it's true. I have grossly transgressed against my fellow men. And what sin am I referring to? You may not have noticed, but . . .

My blog posts are really long.

(*cringes*) I know! I'm sorry! But if it makes you feel any better, I have spoken to my bishop about it. (Love you, Bishop Roylance!)

So, I'm not promising to shorten all my blog posts; I enjoy writing them too much. What I will promise is to try to throw some short posts in the mix too. Like this one. It's short . . . ish.

"All Things are Present Before Mine Eyes"

The Omniscience of God
The Small Plates

Once upon a nonexistence-of-time, Heavenly Father was sitting on his golden throne, listening patiently to the man kneeling before Him. The man was struggling with a problem, and he finally asked, "Father, can't Martin just let his wife see the manuscript? He's an honest man, he'll make sure nothing happens to it."

Heavenly Father responded kindly, "No, Joseph. It's a bad idea. Trust me." Joseph nodded sadly and went back to work.

He returned, however, to ask again. "Heavenly Father, Martin is so miserable. His wife doesn't understand why he has to be gone all the time, she doesn't believe in his work. If he could just show her the manuscript . . . "

"No, Joseph," Heavenly Father said, a little more sternly. "I have given you an answer already. Don't let him take the manuscript. The consequences would be severe." Joseph argued for a little longer, then finally sighed and accepted His decision, leaving to report back to his friend.

But, of course, he returned not much later. "Heavenly Father, Martin and his wife are fighting more terribly than ever before. I hate to see him suffer like this, to watch his family be torn apart. Martin has sworn to me that he will take the utmost care if he is allowed to take the manuscript home, and I believe him. What harm can be done in clearing away his wife's concerns?"

Heavenly Father sighed, sadly. "Alright, Joseph. Go get Martin, we have some covenants to make."

Joseph smiled broadly and thanked Heavenly Father profusely, running off to tell Martin the good news.

Heavenly Father stood and walked over to a distant corner of the room where there was another man, sitting in a tent, writing something down on a set of metal plates. Heavenly Father tapped him on the shoulder. The man looked up, pausing in his inscription. "Nephi," Heavenly Father said, "You'd better make another set of plates."

- - -

Now, don't anyone go around thinking this is doctrine; it's not. It's just a way my Book of Mormon professor tried explaining God's perspective to us. It's kind of fun to think about, though, isn't it?

By the way, the title is doctrine. D&C 38:2.

He Kissed Me!

It was Saturday night; my first college date. We were alone in the back seat of a car. He had just told me that I have beautiful eyes, and then - quite suddenly - he kissed me.

Trust me, it was unexpected.

And I know it sounds like another of my crazy stories, but this time it's true. He really did kiss me. Yes: me. Jessica Grosland - terror of boys everywhere - was kissed for the very first time on Saturday.

Perhaps some specifics are in order.

He is Jimmy. Jimmy Moore. He's an RM, so I believe he's twenty-one years old. He lives in the apartment across the sidewalk from me, which means he's about 20 feet away. He has dark brown hair, brown eyes, and is very funny. We have quite a lot in common for two people who only met a month and a half ago, and obviously we get along rather well. We're both nerds at heart, we both talk incessantly, and we both love to sing at the top of our lungs without a care in the world who's listening.

And how exactly did that kiss come about?

Well, you see, he challenged me to a staring contest. For those of you who don't know, I'm awfully good at staring contests. Freakishly good, really. So I accepted at once. Little did I know, however, that Jimmy is also freakishly good at staring contests. So we kept going, and going, and going. Seriously, it was about a four minute staring contest. We were in the back of the car, leaning towards each other for the slightest sign of blink-age, gazing deeply into each other's eyes. (That's when he told me that mine are beautiful, by the way.) As the contest wore on, we grew silent, leaning ever closer . . .

And that's when he cheated by kissing me on the nose!

I blinked. He won. I gasped in indignation.

The guy driving the car freaked out when he heard the smooching and flipped around yelling, "Hey! No kissing in my car!"

Jimmy laughed uproariously while I started shouting, "You cheated! That doesn't count! No fair!"

I tried to glare at him, but the incredulous smile on my face may have dampened the effect. He did, however, concede the victory. Although he continued to look rather smug for the rest of the night.

---

And there you go. He kissed me. It's all true, and my nose is still blushing.




(Tee hee. I made you think we really kissed. HA HA HA!)

Some Love from The Addams Family

"When the blazing sun has turned to mud,
And the moon lies dead in a pool of blood,
And the tom-tom beat of eternity starts,
Whom will I love in my heart of hearts?
Morticia."

- Gomez Addams

---

Gomez: "How long has it been since we've waltzed?"
Morticia: "Oh, Gomez . . . hours."

---

Gomez: "To live without you, only that would be torture."
Morticia: "A day alone, only that would be death."

---

Morticia: "When we first met years ago, it was an evening much like this. Magic in the air. A boy."
Gomez: "A girl."
Morticia: "An open grave. It was my first funeral."
Gomez: "You were so beautiful. Pale and mysterious. No one even looked at the corpse."

---

Seriously, can you find a more devoted couple?







And this would be no quote collection without including the old Addam's Family Motto:

"'Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc'
We gladly feast on those who would subdue us.'"

Being Stalked...

It finally happened this morning.

Ever since I've started walking to my job at 3:30 in the morning, I've been waiting to turn around and see someone following me. I KNEW it was going to happen! I mean, come on: Young, defenseless girl traveling alone on a dark abandoned road in the quiet of the night, I'm pretty much a glowing green target. Being the superstitious scaredy-cat I am, every noise makes me whirl around with fists flying. And of course, it's usually just a bunch of windswept leaves scurrying harmlessly along.

But not today.

Today I was just walking under a dying streetlamp when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind me. I stiffened with fear, then berated myself for my overactive imagination and kept walking, if only a little faster. But the footsteps didn't stop. The slapping sound was echoing in the otherwise silent street, and my heart started to race as I realized that the footsteps really were coming after me! Panicking, I spun around to face my attacker across the pavement.

It was a duck.

No, really. I'm serious. It was a duck. Wandering along the parking lot without a care in the world. Minding his own business. Then I go and scream in terror and ruin his morning. I'm a horrible person.

Anyway, he looked at me as if to say, "What? You got a problem, Lady?"

After blinking a few times to make sure I was awake, I laughed my scaredy-cat head off and went on my merry way to work.

OH. But work today was NOT merry!

Okay, so in case you didn't know, at work I am Chief Executive in charge of Relocation of Human Detritus.


Okay, yeah. I'm a garbage man. Woman. Whatever. I take out over 100 bags of garbage every morning. How's that for starting your day off right? It's actually usually not so bad. The trash cans are usually full of papers and tape, and the only food that I usually have to deal with are granola bars and fruit. (Oh, those professors and their fruit . . .) But today I had a wonderful surprise waiting for me in one of the lobby trashcans.

Apparently, on Friday somebody had a delightful bottle of chocolate milk. But they couldn't finish the whole thing, and they wanted to keep the bottle, so they just dumped the milk into the trash can - they didn't mean to miss the bag. That person left, and that night the building was locked down for the weekend because of General Conference. No one went in or out of that building for three days. Which means that the puddle of chocolate milk in the bottom of the trashcan sat around for three days all by it's lonesome, until it became something barely resembling milk at all. That's how I found it. Half-solidified, discolored, rank, vomit-inducing chocolate decay.

So I had to clean the trashcan. But the problem is that I'm short, and I have little T-Rex arms. And those lobby trashcans are just a little too deep for me to reach the bottom standing up. Therefore, in order to clean up the rancid milk I had to tip the trash can to a 60 degree angle and then, basically, climb inside. Anyone who walked passed would have seen a pair of stubby legs kicking furiously from a trash can that was emitting strange gagging sounds.

(*shudders*)

It was nasty. So all in all, not one of the best mornings I've ever had, but a fairly eventful one.

Back in the Day . . .

I have rediscovered the joys of boy bands. I got a craving, a few weeks back, for the music I used to love in elementary school. Backstreet Boys, N*Sync, you know. Now I've constantly got the songs stuck in my head:

"I'm doing this tonight.
But, prob'ly gonna start a fight.
I know this can't be right.
Hey, baby, come on.
I loved you endlessly,
But you weren't there for me,
So now it's time to leave and make it alone.
I know that I can't take no more,
It ain't no lie.
I wanna see you out that door!
Baby, BYE BYE BYE!"

Just picture me listening to this at work: four-thirty in the morning, all alone in a very acoustic building, making up my own terrible choreography.

That's usually when one of the professors decides to come in early for once and is startled to find a girl in his office dancing with his trashcan.

(...awkward)



Edit: So I decided to look up the music video for Bye Bye Bye on YouTube, just for kicks. (*ridiculous grin*) You HAVE to check it out. It's freakin' hilarious! In a crazy, drugged-hallucination sort of way. Especially if you keep in mind that when we were kids we thought these guys were cool.

There's lots of different videos. You want this one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qnkwrq39HXw

Happy viewing!

Why?

You may not have wanted it,
But I gave it to you;
And you treated it like dirt.

Opera-to-Be

Sorry, guys. I really am working on a more meaningful post, but I'm trying to get pictures to go with it, and things keep going wrong. Until then, however, I do have a really interesting and TRUE story that I learned about in my Music 101 class. (We only talked about it because Bro. Brown really wants one of his students to turn it into an opera.)

Okay, so you all know Lucy Mack-Smith, right? Well, she had a brother named Jason. This is his story:

Once upon a time there was a young man named Jason Mack. He was a very hardworking man, helping with his father's business, and he had a lot going for him in life. But one day, he met a girl, and that changed everything.

Her name was Esther. She was beautiful and talented and Jason was immediately enamored with her. He found excuses to be around her and soon enough he caught her eye. As is the way of things, they fell madly in love with each other. They enjoyed a long, delightful courtship and one day Jason finally asked Esther to marry him. She said yes.

Jason returned home to his father positively glowing with his happy news, but his father had something else in mind. Jason's father needed to go to Europe for business, you see, and very much desired that Jason come with him, since Jason would one day inherit the company and needed to learn more about management. If Jason went, he would be gone for over a year. Devastated, Jason broke the news to Esther. The lovers despaired, but decided that Jason should go to Europe with his father, and Esther would wait for him. Exchanging vows of love and loyalty, Jason sailed away.

Esther and Jason wrote frequent and passionate letters back and forth for about six months, but then Jason stopped writing. Esther was very worried, and waited anxiously for a few months more before she finally received another letter. This letter, however, brought her no joy. The letter was a condolence, explaining gently that Jason had lost his life in a tragic accident. Esther's heart snapped in two.

All of Esther's friends came to offer comfort, but one friend in particular paid her more attention than the rest. This friend, a young man, eventually not only healed Esther's heart but took it for himself. They had a very quick courtship and very soon after were married. Esther thought she had finally found her happy ending.

That was when Jason came back.

Yes, it turns out Jason was not dead after all. He showed up at Esther's house about a year later with a bundle of love only to find his betrothed already married to another man. He was heartbroken and filled with rage. Esther was bewildered and lost. Her husband, however, was unsurprised to see Jason.

You see, Esther's new husband used to be the Post Master. During Jason's absence he had been the mail-carrier, and he knew what was going on between Jason and Esther. But he wanted Esther for himself. So he started intercepting Jason's letters, making sure that Esther would never see them and would start to think Jason had stopped writing. Then he himself wrote the letter explaining Jason's fictitious death. Then he made his move and married Esther for himself.


Jerk.


Jason left in a tempest of rage. He returned to the sea and became a sailor, and he died without ever marrying. Esther, torn from her true love and married to the man who had separated them, withered and died in six months.


The End.


Now, that would be a great opera, huh? I'm considering writing it myself, except that I know nothing about writing music. Maybe I'll hook up with my little sister Sam. She's quite the composer, you know. I could write the poetry and she could write the music. And then we'd both be famous and rich and able to send our parent to really nice asylums when they get old and crazy. (Just kidding, Mom and Dad.) . . . (Maybe.)

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Yes, this is Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice with a little infestation of brain-craving servants of Satan thrown in. I bought it for about $14 a few weeks ago. I finished it last weekend. And just so you know . . .

IT ROCKS.

I highly recommend it to anyone with a macabre sense of humor and I highly recommend NOT reading it if you're a die-hard Jane Austen fan.

Also, the book is written in Jane Austen's style, so it's a little boring at some parts. Not many, with all the deadly battles going on, but there are a few slow spots. I encourage you to push through the pain or reading the tough words. If all else fails, there are pictures.

I have a lot more to say on the subject, but I also have a lot of homework to finish today. So sorry, but college is like that.

More meaningful post in the near future.

PEACE OUT!

Story

I am better. Thanks guys.

So I know you're all desperate to find out what exciting new things are going on in my life, so without further ado, here is my story:

The night is dark and still, silent and waiting. The world is abandoned, and at this wicked hour there is no one to bear witness of the crime that's about to unfold.

The victim - a young woman with innocent blue eyes and an unsuspecting smile - is alone in the empty building. She wanders through the labyrinthine halls, the squeaking of her shoes echoing loudly. She has come here often at this time. She is not afraid.

Not yet.

She enters the elevator at the end of the hall, humming a mournful tune as the metal doors slide silently shut. She leans against the handrail as she starts to ascend. The numbers above the door read "2 . . . 3 . . . 4 . . . 5." When the car shudders to a stop at the top floor, the girl lets go of the rail and walks toward the doors, but they do not open. She frowns, confused.

And then she falls.

The entire elevator drops from underneath her feet at a blinding speed. She actually floats a few inches in the air before she collapses onto the floor of the elevator and cries out. Panicking, she shuffles to the corner of the car, clutching at the bars to pull herself back to her feet. She watches in terror as the numbers on the screen flash by. "4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . ." She screams, knowing full well that no one will ever hear her.

CRASH.

The elevator smashes into the cement at the bottom of the shaft. The woman is thrown across the floor, hitting her head on one of the metal bars on the other side. She bounces back and forth limply, like a rag doll. The elevator is plunged into darkness.

She opens her eyes, blinking through a stream of hot liquid. She wipes the blood out of her eyes, feeling the gash in her forehead. She tries to assess the damage without seeing it: a broken leg, she's quite sure, and maybe a few ribs as well. She has bruises and cuts all over her. Moaning, but considering herself lucky, she reaches for her cellphone to call for help.

No service.

Angry, she chucks the phone across the elevator. Panting, she tries to think straight. The elevator is obviously not working anymore, so she can't use the Call Help button. Someone is bound to find her soon, she decides. Maybe not for a few hours, not until people start showing up for work, but they'll realize the elevator is broken, and that she's missing, and they'll send the fire department or something. She thinks that if she can stay conscious she'll be fine. She presses her hand to her forehead to stop the bleeding.

Suddenly, the doors open and a beam of light falls across the cabin. The tile of the closest floor is less than a foot from the ceiling of the elevator. She looks up, squinting, relief flooding through her as she waits for a face to appear in the gap. It's her boss, surely. Or one of her co-workers. "Hello?" she calls out.

And then he walks into the light.

She gasps, pressing a hand against her ribs as she looks into the ugliest face she's ever seen, but one she's all too familiar with. Suddenly everything makes sense. She's starting to realize that this was no accident. Desperately, she tries to stand up, but she's defenseless, and the effort makes her vision start to go black, nearly putting her over the edge into unconsciousness. The murderer walks slowly to the edge of the floor, grinning in triumph. And Jessica knows she is lost.

"Webby!" she spits out.

The tarantula, victorious at last, drops into the elevator and devours his prey.

...

...

...

Okay, so that didn't actually happen of course. I told you it was a story. I never said it was a true story!


EDIT: I didn't realize it earlier, but this was my 50th blog post! WOOT!!! Let's have a dance party! IN LONDON!!!

One Crappy Day

I won't explain it all, because I'm desperate to head home, but these are the basic details:

1 - My roommate had appendicitis two nights ago, so last night we went to see her. We couldn't leave until about 8:00pm and didn't get home until 11:00pm. So I got less than four hours of sleep last night.

2 - Everything that could go wrong at work did, with the exception that Webby remained inside his cage at all times. I fell down a lot, dropped stuff a lot, kept forgetting things and had to get told off by my boss.

3 - No time for food today. Passed out during my break between work and my first class and woke up late, so I had to go looking like garbage and skipping lunch and ended up late anyway.

4 - Spent a total of five hours typing up a report for my English Class because the stupid computer deleted two hours of my work halfway through. Pretty much almost cried right there in the library.

5 - It's almost eight o'clock, my "getting ready for bed" time, and I just finished my first assignment. I'm not even back at my apartment yet. No food, no time for homework, no time for anything.

So basically, this day really was the worst day I have had so far at BYU. My legs hurt, my back hurts, I'm tired and I keep walking into things. I'm going to go home and collapse and sob until I fall asleep and have to start it all over again at 3:00 tomorrow morning.

I really miss my mom right now.

A Day in the Life of Jessica

3:00am

Gaelic Storm starts ringing in your ears as your alarm goes off. You listen for a minute because it's a good song, then you sigh and shut it off. You literally roll out of bed, and since you have a really cheap dorm mattress this causes your bed to howl in protest. You glance over at your roommate to see if you've woken her up, but she's still asleep. You fumble around in the dark all morning (yes, you get dressed in the dark) and you shove some WheatThins into your mouth for breakfast. You don't have time to do anything with your hair, so you make a face at the mirror and leave.

3:50am

You're noticing that the weather is a little chilly this early, and you wish you'd put on a jacket. You walk your bike to the nearest bike rack and look out over the hillside down into the beautiful lights of Provo City. You admire the moon for a while before heading inside the secret basement entrance. Except that your card won't work today. You bang on the door for five minutes and eventually someone comes to let you in. Glen, your boss, is late again. You sit down in the hall and pull out your Book of Mormon. You have to get to page 200 today and you're only on 173.

5:30am

You still think it's so cool that you have a master key, even if you don't always know which way to turn it. Glen found out that you counted all the trashcans on the first floor yesterday (133) and now he wants you to name them all. You give it a good try for the first 15 or so, then give up.

7:00am

You're in the preschool, and you know the tarantula is watching you. Every time you have to turn your back on it to empty a trashcan you get all shivery and you have to keep saying to yourself, "It is NOT crawling on me. It is NOT crawling on me." When you leave the room you swear you can hear it chuckle menacingly.

8:00am

Finally you've made it to school. You're sitting in Honors English learning about claims, reasons, and assumptions. That kid Jake is sitting behind you again, so when she says to get in groups Jake immediately asks to be in yours. Christie (your Professor) gives you a story about a princess who ditches her Lord of a husband for a vagabond, is abandoned by same vagabond, has to walk home alone through the enchanted forest and almost makes it out before she is devoured by a fire-breathing dragon. It becomes your new favorite fairytale.

9:30am

Sociology. You're sitting by Heather (you think) and try very hard to pay attention to the exceedingly boring instructor talk about Obama getting called a liar yesterday. She starts the slideshow about statistics and you groan because you just got out of Statistics a couple of months ago. For the second time in this class, you fall asleep in your chair. You wake up half an hour later to see that she's still on the same slide: Mean, Median and Mode. You go back to sleep.

11:00am

You use an "open access terminal" to finally get on the ACT website and have them send your scores to BYU, hoping that you'll be able to test out of some classes. You get distracted answering email and the terminal - which has a nine-minute time limit - kicks you off before you can finish everything you need to. Feeling sly and dishonest, you sign right back in for another nine minutes. (You little devil.)

12:15pm

Your Book of Mormon teacher keeps reminding you that your chances of passing this class are 37:1, but he always says it with a smile on his face, and you begin to picture him as a sadistic gremlin. You're taking more notes in this class than any of the others and you keep wondering how there can be so much you didn't know about a book you've been reading your entire life. There's a pause as everyone's scribbling notes and Brother Merrill takes advantage of it by saying, "I hope you're all caught up on your reading. You should be near the end of Mosiah today." You start to panick. You only reached Mosiah last night.

1:00pm

You should be able to head for home about now, but instead you have to go to the computer lab and do a couple assignments. It takes you almost two hours. Then you begin blog-posting just for fun - and to distract yourself from the fact that you're starving because all you've had to eat today are some WheatThins - when you suddenly realize that you have to book it to the testing center because you have an exam that starts at three, and it is now 2:39.

2:40pm

As you start to pack up, you begin to wonder if anyone is going to read any of this stuff anyway.

Speed Reading

This is the Book of Mormon.














You may be familiar with it. It contains 15 different books of scriptures, comprising of a total of 239 chapters - 531 pages of gospel doctrine. As of yesterday and finishing in about two weeks, I will have read 124 chapters - 280 pages.

Yep. It's my REL A - 121 assignment. I'm to read the first half of the Book of Mormon by September 15th. That's exactly 20 pages a day.
I know, right? But that's just the one class. I also have about 40 pages of reading for my ENGL 150 class, 6 Syllabuses to master, a paper to write, a couple quizzes, and a lot of technical stuff to figure out. And that's just for today.

Also, I wake up at 3:00am to go to work. Who's bright idea was that? Actually, to tell the truth, you wouldn't believe how beautiful the campus is in the middle of the night. It's pitch black and silent and empty, with nothing but the stars and the city lights to keep you company. I rather enjoy it.

But I DID have to spend five LONG minutes alone in a room with a tarantula today. It was terrifying. I was trying not to look at him but keep an eye on him at the same time, so he didn't try any tricks. When I left the room I kept having to look behind me, half expecting the wretched thing to be chasing after me, skittering down the dark hallway. If he had done, I guarantee you I would have fled for my life.

Well, I'm off to ENGL 195 - Intro to the English Major. I haven't had this class yet. We'll see how it goes.

Hope things are well in Springvillle!

- Jessica

College Life: Living in a Sitcom

So I've been living in my apartment for almost a week now, and it is a ton of fun! I wish I had pictures to show you, but I'll just have to explain as best as I can with words.

My roomies are the best:

Marisa: She's cute as a button. She has long dark hair and beautiful brown eyes. She loves anything strawberry and she is ridiculously happy almost all of the time. She's really good at going out of her way to meet people, so it's thanks to her that I know anyone outside of our room. She's from Chandler, Arizona and she stayed up until 2:00 this morning to decorate the apartment for Alli's birthday.

Alli: She's one of the most determined people I've ever met. She is six feet tall and has red hair. She's funny and sarcastic, and every time a boy walks past our window she evaluates his level of attractiveness. She's not afraid of anything, so she's the one we send out to do stuff like telling the front desk to fix our dishwasher. She is from Chandler, Arizona too, and she and Marisa went on that Choir Tour to Europe this summer. She just turned eighteen today.

Jerina: She is from Hawai'i and she is BEAUTIFUL. I'm so freakin' jealous of her gorgeous black hair! She is super nice and can usually be found in her bedroom on the phone with one of her millions of friends. She is going to teach us how to hula dance, and we're all really excited. She also introduced me to this Hawaiian treat called Arare which is most delicious.

Xan: Xan is short for Alexandra, and she is just as crazy as she sounds. She has short blond hair and makes me laugh all the time. She's on the BYU colorguard, and she loves to have fun. She's from Georgia, and she says that she puts on her heavy winter coat at 65 degrees. (*winces*) She can't understand why she moved to Utah.

Alyssa I haven't met yet, but she should be moving in today. (*scared face*) I'm excited and a little nervous. She's the one sharing MY room.

We also met some boys. (*wink wink*) They live in apartment 120, so that's usually how I refer to them: the boys from 120. They are:

Eric: He likes to do the dishes. He plays the guitar, but he professes to be unable to sing - which doesn't actually keep him from singing. He's really friendly, and he just got back from his mission three weeks ago. He went to Australia, but he's originally from California. He's a very strict observer of the honor code and he wouldn't be caught dead in our bathroom.

Jacob: He's tall, blond, and is the most intelligently funny person here. He drove us around all night last night and I find him to be a very fun but very FAST driver. He's from Washington(?) and I get along with him really well. (Probably because we both love Tucanos and have eaten chicken hearts.) He served his mission in Brazil and speaks Portuguese - occasionally without meaning to.

Jim: Also known as JIMMERS. He really is just a big ball of laughs, and Marisa seems to have an extreme weakness for him. She almost passed out from laughing when Jim said that his mom used to call him Jimmers, and we have all decided that that is his official title as of now. He continually tries to perform Jedi mind tricks, but very rarely succeeds.

I'm running out of time, so I'll have to shorten this. Andrew, Jeff, and Lewis also live in 120, but they're really quiet so I don't know much about them. More updates when I figure out more about them.

Today was my first day in my new ward. Sunday School was the funniest. It went like this:

Paul: Er, I've never taught a Sunday School lesson in my life, so bear with me. Our lesson today is called . . . (*looks down embarrassed, then speaks really fast*) Sealed for Time and All Eternity.

Entire Class: BAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

Paul: Yeah. Welcome to the Single's Ward.

Home, Home on the Riv!

Where the BYU students all live.

Hi, guys. I just wanted to do another post while I'm at my parents' house and can steal their resources. I'm just visiting, though, because as of yesterday I am MOVED OUT, BABY!

I moved into my apartment yesterday afternoon/night. I'm going to have five roommates eventually, but for now I've only met three of them: Alli, Xan, and Marisa. I'd tell you all about them, but this might be my last chance on the computer for some time, so I have other things I have to get to.

Also, I wanted to tell everyone that I finally got a job! I was just hired today, and I'll probably start working next week. I'm doing custodial work at the Joseph F. Smith Building, and I'm very excited about it. I had an interview with my boss today and I think we're going to get on extremely well. The job pays well, and it's nearby. The only drawback is that I have to be at work at 4:00 AM. I work from 4:00 AM - 7:30 AM every weekday. My earliest class is Honors Writing, which is at 8:00 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I should have no problem getting there on time (It's right next to where I work) but I'll probably look pretty crappy those days.

College is kind of freaky, and I feel like a twitchy sophomore again, but what else could I have expected? I think I'll get used to it a lot faster once the actual classes start.

Oh, side note to Kimberly Brown: "I'm going to get my books sometime this week. It was really nice of you to offer to take me, and I'd love to go with you, but I don't know when I'll have time to do it, so I couldn't give you much advanced notice. Plus, my books are going to cost around $55o, so I'm probably going to break down sobbing in the middle of the line. So if you still want to take me, let me know. Otherwise, I'm letting you off the hook."

This is probably going to be my last post for a while. I don't have a laptop or anything, so I have no idea how often I'm going to be able to post, but know that I am alive and well in ZoobieLand.

Love you guys!

Jessica

Ha ha. School.

Yes, boys and girls, it's that time of year again. A time when the air reaks of fresh paper and pencil shavings; A time when the ear is constantly caressed by the sweet sound of whiny children being shoved into minivans to go clothes-shopping; A time when students everywhere rediscover that famous four-hours-of-sleep hangover. Tomorrow morning, young people everywhere will be jolted from sleep by the buzz of alarm clocks and ridiculously cheerful mothers singing, "Get up! It's the first day of school!"

And I'll be sleeping in.

Ha ha!

Wisdom Teeth

Now that I'm out of high school, I figure: Who needs wisdom?!

Yes. It is officially Thursday, August the 6th, (happy b-day, Amanda) and today is the day that I get my face yanked off. But no worries. I'll be on LOTS of drugs.

I've decided that the reason none of my friends were ever afraid to get their wisdom teeth out is because they all did it before they were eighteen, and therefore, their parents signed all the paperwork for them. Well, I had to sign my own paperwork, and it's all pretty much six pages of:

Getting your wisdom teeth removed will have consequences, which MAY INCLUDE, BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO:

* Lots and lots of bleeding.

* Massive drooling.

* Sudden loss of feeling in the general area of your face.

* Possible dislocation of the jaw.

* Nose cave-ins akin to the late Michael Jackson.

* Frequent seizures.

* Less frequent heart attacks.

* Strokes, mini-strokes, and extra-large-strokes.

* Sudden failure of the lungs, liver, kidney, pancreas, intestine, brain, heart, stomach, bladder, head, shoulders, knees and toes, eyes, ears, mouth and nose.

* Uncontrolable urges to dance on the roof.

* Cancer. Swine Flu. AIDS. Hiccups.

* Pelvic Thrusts.

* Fluency in German.

* Obama-rama.

* Etc. Etc. Etc.

p.s. it's possible that tiny goblins will nest in the empty sockets and develop an intrinsic culture in your face, but we've only had that happen twice.

So, yeah. If you're reading this after 10:00am on Thursday, I am now recovering from oral surgery. So take comfort in the fact that you, unlike me, are not a swollen bloody chipmunk. And I will take comfort in the fact that I, unlike you, am stoned out of my mind.

Institute Invitation

So I'm taking this Institute class up in Orem (at UVU). Just so you guys know, it's a lot like seminary in all the good ways: teachers who can be funny and spiritual at the same time, the weekly break from the world, studying the gospel with people who are (relatively) close to your own age, etc. I really, really like the class a lot. And I love the teacher, Brother Lewis. He is hilarious.

There is just one problem with my class. I don't know anybody there. I'm a total loner. And I'm too scared to talk to anybody there because almost all of them are returned missionaries or young married couples! They're great people, and I learn a lot from them, but I just feel alone in that class, and it makes me act like a loser instead of my usual fantastically awesome self.

So I had an idea!

Bring some more young'uns!

Brother Lewis is always trying to get us to bring new people to class; we always pick up five to ten people every week. (The class is still small, though. Apparently we lose people, too.) So perhaps I should follow the counsel of my church leaders and invite some friends to come with me! THIS MEANS YOU! ALL OF YOU! THE MORE THE MERRIER!

Yes, I am personally inviting YOU, friend, reader of this - my blog - to join me at Institute next week. The class is on Wednesdays, from 7:00-8:30pm, but I usually leave around 6:30pm. I already bought a parking pass, so we could just carpool. I have four seats in my car and a very cozy trunk, so everyone's invited. I don't think you have to pay for the class if you're just "visiting" but I also don't think you get BYU credit for it or anything. But it really is a fantastic class, so you really should at least think about it.

Personal Invites to my Followers!

Nathan Sutterfield: You were on seminary counsel. You know how awesome this stuff is!
Natalie Brown: I think you're too young, actually. Sorry, Nattie. Let's party some other time!
Logan Thomas: Come on, you know you've been bored, and we haven't seen each other in ages. When was the last time we had a class together that wasn't choir? It'll be like the 1st ward again!
Beth Black: There are plenty of newly-married-grossly-affectionate people to make fun of... :)
Diana Renae: You know you'll love Institute, you just know it.
Princess Aurora: There are LOTS of cute guys!
Alecia Morris: Doesn't this sound like a party? And everyone knows that there's no party until Alecia's there.
Taylor Anderson: Have you missed seminary as much as me? This is a great way to get your gospel fix! I always feel better after an Institute class.
Erin Asay: Brother Lewis is SOOO funny, you'd love him, I know it!
Kimberly Gail: You probably have some Indiana Jones-like adventure to be getting up to, so you may consider yourself exempt on account of BBC - Busy Being Cool.

(*sighs*) Okay, I know I basically just spat out an Institute commercial, and I really don't expect most of you to be interested. But I really would love it if you wanted to come, and I really do think it's a fantastic class. We're studying the Book of Mormon, and I've learned a ton. So if you ARE at all interested, let me know, and we'll party it up on Wednesday.

Love you all!

Life as of Today

Well . . . I saw the sixth Harry Potter movie. It was most excellent. I'm going to see it again on Saturday with mi familia. I'm excited.

I have to work a lot lately since one of the other girls quit. It makes me disagreeable, but money is good when you have a rent to pay.

One of our salamanders died. . . . 'bout time.

My little brother is leaving for a scout camp tomorrow. But not just ANY scout camp. (*grins mischieviously*) He's going to PAYSON LAKES. (if you don't understand the significance of that, you must not be a 1st warder.)

I registered for classes. I'm taking "Current Social Problems" among other things. ...yeah, I didn't have much to choose from.

I'm playing my guitar a lot more lately. I'm trying to learn some Gaelic, but it doesn't sound very good because 1) I only have a guitar, so I'm missing the harmonica/violin/whatever else, 2) I'm not very good at the guitar, 3) I sing like a girl. So basically I should be struck down for even attempting Gaelic, but what the heck? It's summer and I'm bored.

And . . . I think that's just about it. So in case you somehow give a darn about what goes on in my life . . . now you know.

So say we all.

Warning: Apocalypse Impending

And WHY am I so sure that the Apocalypse is on its way?

I have a date.

No. Really. It's true.

I'm going boating with James Hylton this Saturday morning. Supposedly there will be other people there as well, but James being James he has no idea who those people might be. Also he has no idea what time all of this will be going down. But he says he's going to find out and call me back. And if he doesn't, well, I've known James long enough that I'm used to just winging it.

So. Yeah.

I have a date.

(*looks slightly bemused*)

At least, I think so. This wouldn't be the first time someone from an alternate dimension got the wrong number and asked me out by mistake, but I think it may have been the real James this time. If not, a trans-dimensional date does have a lot of potential.

Rated PG-13 for Violence

Do you ever have a dream that you just can't shake? You wake up in the morning and realize it was just a dream, but still for that whole day you've got the dream running around in the back of your head?

WELL. It happens to me. And last night's dream was particularly terrifying, so now every time I hear a loud noise I think I'm about to get shot.

Let me explain:

I was at school. Not Springville High, I could tell, but someplace in Germany or England. Not current either, because it was dark and smokey kind of how London looks in Mary Poppins. I was at school, but I wasn't in class. I was with a secret organization, working on a secret project that would save our dying world.

There were those who opposed us, we knew. But we never realized just how many they were, or what lengths they would go to in order to stop us.

We returned to our lab one day and discovered that one of our enemies had been here, and had stolen valuable and dangerous equipment. Knowing that our location had been compromised, we gathered as many items as we could - hoping to continue our research - and tried to flee the school before our enemies returned for us.

But they were already there.

As soon as we entered the hall, we realized just how much trouble we were in. The students of the school were sprinting for the doors, the hall a mass of chaos amid terrified screams. I saw why they were screaming almost immediately. Gunmen. EVERYWHERE.

Our group disbanded as we all took off in opposite directions, listening to the bullets ricocheting off the wall behind us. My heart was pounding as I sprinted through the crowd, my classmates dropping like flies around me, the rancid smell of gore in the air. There were so many gunmen! At least five in this one hall! I ducked my head as I ran, a pathetic attempt to dodge the bullets I could hear whizzing past me. I screamed with the rest of the students as I ran, ran faster than I'd ever run before, trying to outrun death itself.

I could describe the endless chase scenes and shoot-ups, but I won't. Needless to say, we were slaughtered. We had no means of defending ourselves, nowhere to hide. Yet, somehow, when the shooting stopped - I never knew the cause - Nearly half of the school's students lay dead. Countless more were injured.

We gathered everyone into the alley outside the school. Everyone who was still standing, and there were so very few. I was sobbing as the teachers shuffled me along with the rest. When we'd gotten outside, I saw the old man who ran the train that brought us here every day. His name was Tim, and I was friends with him. When I saw him I ran to him, burying my wet face into his shoulder as I cried. He held me, and the look on his face said that he knew what had happened. "They're dead," I whispered. "So many of them. I thought we'd all be killed. They had guns. So many . . . "

Tim talked to one of the administrators - there were few left standing - and suggested that he could ferry us all home on the train. Since we had no idea what had stopped the shooting, however, we all realized that we were still in imminent danger. The remaining students nearly trampled each other trying to get on the train. One of the teachers stopped us, saying that we were going to have to do this fairly. He found a list of the students, and started calling us up in alphabetical order.

When one girl stepped forward, Tim stood with his eyes wide and teary. "Anna," He said. I knew Tim well, and I realized that this must be his long-lost daughter, the girl he hadn't seen in years, his only reason for living. He gathered his daughter into his arms in a tender reunion, then gently pushed her onto the train and closed the door. He walked to the teacher who had been calling roll. I watched, confused as to what he was doing. He still had a huge smile on his face as he said, "I'm sorry, Sir, but my train is full." He pulled a gun out of his pocket and shot the teacher in the head.

Suddenly it was all back. The remaining students screamed in terror as they realized that the adults surrounding them all had guns. The shooting hadn't stopped. It had only been postponed so that Tim could retrieve his daughter. I stood frozen to the spot as this realization slowly worked its way into my head. I glanced up at Tim and, for a moment, was still so confused that I didn't understand at first when he pointed the gun into my face. Thankfully, my body realized what was going on before my brain did, and I flinched out of the way, the bullet missing me by centimeters.

I ran. Ducking and dodging and trying desperately to block out the sounds of the massacre echoing through the alley. In my haste I failed to notice a stairwell and I tumbled down it into the blackness below. Another alley, with very little light. I stood again, and listened in horror to the sound of footsteps chasing after me.

These gunmen wanted nothing. That much was plain. They didn't want money, or information, or hostages. All they wanted was to kill us all. So I had no bargaining chip. As soon as the men made their way down here - A few refugee students had joined me, now, so the gunmen couldn't be far behind - they would find me, and they would kill me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Then an idea hit me. The last idea. My only chance. They would not bother to kill me if they thought I was already dead.

I had cut my face as I'd fallen down the stone steps, and now I wiped the blood around, trying to make myself look as wounded as possible. I sprawled out on the ground, forcing my breath to come in quick, shallow, silent bursts. I was terrified by how much my chest moved when I breathed. I lay still as possible. The shouting in the tunnel was now the angry swearing of the gunmen. I heard more shots and students desperately running for cover. I could only hope that the students still running for their lives would be enough distraction that the gunmen wouldn't bother to check if I was alive. The darkness was thick, and I thought that if the gunmen spared me just a short glance they would believe me to be dead. I felt the pounding pavement as the gunmen came closer. I closed my eyes and prayed for mercy.

...And that's when I woke up. I laid in bed for the longest time, trying to lie still as possible so I could pass for a dead person, before I realized that I was no longer in that dark alleyway. When I finally came to my senses, I gasped and sat upright, wrapping my arms tightly around my knees. I was afraid to move. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I didn't hold still they would find me and blast my brains all over the pavement. This was worse than a school shooting. This was war. This was a massacre.

And I could not fully convince myself that it had not been real.

Realization

Hey... Saturday is the Fourth of July. Independence Day and all that.





(*sudden wave of patriotism*)

Fireworks and Barbeques are the American Way!

...Sorry, I just didn't have anything else to say, really. Maybe I'll have something interesting to share tomorrow.

All Messed Up

I feel all messed up inside. Like everything that can go wrong has gone wrong or will very soon. I can't seem to accomplish anything, or even interact with people right. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm just a mediocre person.

I feel like I need to expel some emotion, but I can't decide whether I should throw myself off a bridge or rip someone's face off.

Hmmm...

So Much Effort...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: College is dumb.

Gees, I just started summer and already I spend all my time freaking out about school. I still don't know where I'm going to live. I've been all over the BYU off-campus housing website, but all that can really do is give me names of a handful of places that might have a vacancy. I went with my dad - who rocks - up to Provo to check out a few of the locations, but it was Sunday and I didn't want to bother anyone, so all I really did was browse and take pictures of some of the more promising places.

Also, I desperately need to find a job. I already have one, yes, but 1) It doesn't pay nearly enough, and 2) It's too far from campus and I don't have a car/motorcycle/shopping cart to drive back and forth every day. The BYU website's not really much help with finding a job, either, so I'm going to have to head up to Provo and scrounge around the Wilkinson Center looking for "Help Wanted" signs.

Basically, I need to go hit up BYU for a day or three. Group field-trip, anyone?

Just kidding. I'm an "adult" now, after all. I can go job/housing hunting by myself. But the idea of wandering around, helpless and alone, in ZoobieLand? It frightens me.

Our young heroine walks briskly down the street, a map and a notebook clutched to her chest as she looks around suspiciously. The group of laughing girls across the street take no notice of her, but she can't shake the feeling that someone is watching her. She takes a shortcut, forsaking the heavily-trafficked road for a lonely, quiet sidewalk that weaves through a bit of manufactured landscape. The bushes and trees look somehow artificial in their brightness, and she finds it slightly irritating.

Suddenly, there's a noise behind her. She whips around and her map falls out of her hands; her blue eyes widen in panic. Nothing there but a bush, rustling in the slight breeze. Berating herself for the lapse in sensibility, she turns back around...and cries out in terror.

"AHH!"

Standing not two feet away from her, as if he had materialized out of thin air, is a clean-cut young man with bright eyes and a huge smile. Our heroine staggers back, alarmed. "Hi!" the boy says, simply bursting with enthusiam. When he receives no reply, he bends down and picks up the map that she dropped. "You must be new." There's a strange relish in his voice as he says the word 'new'. He thrusts out his free hand and steps forward again. "My name's Moroni." Taking no notice of the fact that she is wincing away from him, Moroni grabs her hand and shakes it. "Do you need someone to show you around? I'd just love to-"

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Shrieking madly, our heroine yanks her hand free and drops her notebook in her rush to escape, turning and dashing down the path with her arms flailing, leaving Moroni standing frozen, a bemused expression on his face.

(*shudders*)

I feel bad for BYU. They deserve better than a psychotic resister.

Summer Blues

Sigh.

So I'm always totally excited for summer. (Who isn't?) I get thinking about all the free time I'll have, all the wonderful weather, the crazy escapades I'll get up to...etc. The only problem is that I keep setting myself up for disappointment. Summer is never nearly as exciting as I think it is going to be.

I have lots of free time. But I spend it all sleeping in, working, or lazing around the house wishing I had something to do.

The weather is great. But I don't really notice because I spend all my time inside at the computer pretending to have a social life.

Crazy escapades? None to speak of. Well, except for in writing. But all of that's made up anyway, so whatever.

(*HUGE SIGH*)

But as long as I'm still here, at the computer, being bored and depressed, I might as well brighten up YOUR day. I am pretty impressed with your loyalty, for even reading this post. You deserve better. So here you go:

I actually took this picture myself! How about that? This rose bush is currently growing in my next-door neighbors' front yard. I was walking past it on my way home from work; the world was still fragrant from the recent rain which clung to the flora in pristine droplets. I saw these two flowers and they inspired a rather odd train of thought, which leads me to the title I have given the picture: Growing Up. The little bud represents a young girl, still just a kid, who is precious and lovely in her own right, but hasn't realized her full potential. The open rose represents what that little girl can become: full of life, beautiful and confident, bringing joy into the world simply with her presence.

I think that if that little bud can make it through a few more rainstorms and remember to reach for the sun, she'll find herself soon enough.