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.