Tuesday, January 26

Right now I should be writing my American Heritage essay. Or doing my Family History homework--due tomorrow. Or finishing up my Comprehensive Scholarship essays. But no. I'm blogging. I'm avoiding the inevitable because I'm too much of a coward to face problems head on. I'm more comfortable running away and talking to a vast, expansive void known as the internet that can neither reply nor give me comfort. Why do I need comfort? By all accounts it makes no sense.

I wasn't wearing my glasses. The dirt residue from the melted snow had made it almost impossible to see the median. I thought I was far enough over. A bump. Scraping sounds that, were I to describe them, would make me sound like a moron. The sound of rolling metal as I see something roll away from my front left tire. Signal. Pull over. Put on the emergency lights. Hazard lights? What have I done? The thoughts come flowing in now, simultaneously rather than one after another. I won't be able to make it home. I'll have to walk to work at midnight. My phone is dead. I should call my parents. Oh they'll be so mad. I broke the car. My phone is dead.

Facebook.

I could use Facebook. Retrieve missing part from the tire. I've parked in a precarious place. A fleeting thought, quickly taken over by others. Focus. Walk to somewhere with internet connection. Facebook, calling out for help. Don't stress. People are willing to help me. Rescue. Relief. Just a hubcap. It's all right. Walk to car. Where is it? Are those the blinking lights? I don't see blinking lights. I've let the battery die by leaving on the hazard lights.

Gone.

Just gone. Like a mother blue-bird coming back to find her eggs missing, probably eaten. Except it wasn't just the eggs that were missing; it was the whole nest. Has someone stolen it? Did it roll away? Towed? What am I going to do?

Pray.

No, not pray. Speak. Communicate. Lay my woes upon the shoulders provided for me.

Cry.

Oh great. Now this is just getting out of hand. But it feels good. Let go. Let go of my inhibitions and my perceptions of others' perceptions. Cry like you cried at the duck pond. Except this is different. A quiet, silent release of my pent-up tear ducts. Each one carrying a little more of my woes, fear, and self-fury.

Turns out it had been towed. $120.

And now I listen to a woman I can't forget go on and on with rude, stuck up insults, stinging and cutting. But I've cried out all my tears, so it's easy to pick up my old mask, comfortable and familiar. Smiles. Laughs. It's all okay. Or at least it will be.

Everyday Italian -- Thursday, January 14

Halibut
Ingredients...and What You Do With Them
-Drizzle Olive Oil
-Salt & Pepper
-Flip and repeat
-Halibuts cook about 4 minutes on each side

Sauce (for the Halibut)
-Olive Oil
-Things that aren't onions. Sheltons? Sounds like a nerd got beaten up multiple times a day.
-Crush Garlic with the flat of the blade. Of the knife.
-Artichokes (frozen ones, but then thawed, obviously)
-Salt & Pepper

Work on Fish

-White Wine to get the brown and flavor off the bottom of the pan. All that stuff that white people say, "Eww don't get any of that on my miniscule portion." Mmmm.
-Chicken Broth. Dunno how much. But enough to make it look good. And the right consistency. And enough amount wise.
-Tomatoes. Chunks, most probably.

Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night

Great. I've done it Billy. I've allowed myself to feel. I believe I have fallen in like. Unattainably so. And thrice. What AM I to do with meself? It's probably because of all my Nicholas Sparks-Jane Austen alternations. Some have tried to label these as "crushes" but I refuse to have my first crush. Besides, the word's vile. Seriously, the terminology is just as bad as the word "pelvis" for, well, your pelvis. "Crush" makes me think of two overly well-built Russians you can barely tell the gender difference of mud-wrestling. Not attractive. Not necessarily "Russians" either. Just as long as they're from some sort of Slavic nation, ya know? Anyway, I just need to quench 'em. I've snuffed out most of the flames of love before they could even get a firm hold on just the paper and kindling of my emotions. Sometimes, I've been so good, so watchful and observant, that I was able to stop the sparks from reaching anything flammable at all. But, I mean, it's not like you can stop the hands from striking flint and stone at all. And I'm afraid, this time, I've let it go on far too long. I'm positive I can snuff out the fires, (let's face it; I'm a cold, heartless stone with only the preface of a human body) but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get burned. Just a little, but still. For someone who's never swum in a pool, the ocean can be pretty daunting. Ooh, nice metaphor! Snaps for me.

Dear Billy,

This week has been...special. The same description my mamma had to use for me for so many years, I'm sure. Well, we'd best begin at the beginning.

Sunday.

Though Sunday was reportedly the last day of the week, seeing as it was the one of rest, I am going to begin my week with Sunday. Except that Saturday was really the day of rest 'cause in Fiddler on the Roof their sabbath is on Saturday and since Jesus was also Jewish that wins hands down. Sunday was suckish. The end.

Monday.

First day of classes. For what I had anticipated it wasn't nearly as blood-sucking as it could've been. I hadn't gotten my schedule finalized, and had to attend two classes I wasn't enrolled in. Embarrassing? Oui. However, I walked in like I owned the place (slash sat in the third row, behind as humongous a kid I could find and I'm tellin' ya, he was a beast) and managed to enjoy myself. I found two superb friends in Biology, both blonde, both very kindly, and made a new one in Chinese. Nice girl. Reminds me of someone famous...and European. Kind of like a mix between the attractive French chick on Mr. Bean's Holiday and the lady from Bournes Identity and Supremacy, before she (spoiler alert) dies. So does Dumbledore. Get over it.

Tuesday.

Just two classes this day, but still so freaking busy!!! Marvelous devotional given by President Samuelson and his wife. What a great way to kick off the new semester...on the second day. Guess this means the first one didn't count. It was good to see Randee and Matt again, Billy. Sigh. Still no word back from the nice elderly folks in charge of housing about my being released from my contract, but it'll come.

Wednesday. Today.

Another long, but great, day of school. Finished all of my homework before hand, so nothing else to do at 10 at night but Facebook Stalk and blog. I got offered a job at the Doughnut Shop from 10-2. AM. Or midnight to 3. But I live at home so I'll have to pass it up. Oh wait! This just in: Nathan Oler has been denied his request to terminate his agreement which nearly cost his family Christmas! I don't think I take rejection well. I'll leave out the other things I had to say 'bout them ol' geezers. Some would call that "editing" or "censoring" the blog. Still no vacancies in the Biology class I'm not in but attend like I am. The professor says he can't add anyone for fire safety reasons. I'm thinkin' of going down to the Fire Marshal, having him sign an exception form (courtesy of Word Processor), and persuading Dr. Bio that way. We'll just have to see. In the mean time, I'll just go talk to another counselor...again. I don't know if I need them, or if I just abuse them now, but that's their problem.

But if I did, it'd be Billy.