A Funny Thing Happened While Working at WalMart...

The Beginning of Summer.

So. The summer is here for most all of us. I've been relaxing these first few days. My thoughts:
1) I love the summer. Something about how relaxing and peaceful it is. I don't really have anything to do, which is nice.
2) I've been taking advantage of it. Watching TV, movies on Netflix, reading books. I just spent the last few HOURS playing Webkinz. I love it.
3) There are things I want to do with this summer. I want to study German, etc. At very least unpack/clean up my now seriously overcrowded room.
4) I may not do anything with this summer. If I don't, I'd be okay with that.
5) My dad's being a bit of jerk and I hate that. He wants me to get a job. I want to get a job too, but he's being a bit of an ass about it. I pay for my college. He doesn't have to worry about it. So, why he's so insistent on me getting a job is beyond me. He's always insisting that this world is a big bad place and it's out to get me. This is somehow avoidable if I get summer job? I don't really get it, but it's getting me really pissed off.
6) I have applied at 6 different places. I was honest with all of them and told them I'd only be working there this summer. I don't know if any of them will bother calling me back.
7) If they don't, that's okay with me.

Reflections on Easter

My favorite part of Easter for a long time has been the singing of "Christ The Lord is Risen Today." Even without Easter eggs, without presents and baskets and candy, that song means it's Easter. Because even if I had all of that other stuff, it wouldn't be Easter without a few rousing choruses of "Alleluia". And this morning, I missed it. I woke up, took a shower, got dressed. Everything was going according to plan. And then I was in my car, slightly damp from the rain, driving to church, and I got to the turn I usually take to get there. It was blocked off. Construction I didn't even know existed was in my way. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but I kept going. I didn't know the right way to go to get where I wanted to be. So I told myself what I always tell myself. What I've learned to tell myself after years of being easily confused, often backward, and frequently lost. I told myself, "At the end of the day, God will get you where you're supposed to be." No matter how many times I get lost, it always comes true. I don't always get there when I want to get there, and I don't always get there the way I expect to. But I always get there. Of course, once I get there, I can't always find a parking space. I got to church 2 minutes after service started, and not a single spot was open. I ended up parking on the side of the road a block and a half away. And then I walked to church through the rain. And somehow, it felt better than anything I've done in a while. Because sometimes you just know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the path your feet on is the one they need to travel. Those times don't come too often, at least, they don't for me, and this one felt good. About 15 feet from the door, a man offered to share his umbrella so I could get through the door. It was well meant, and I took the offer. Because sometimes it's not the usefulness of things that matters. Sometimes it's the soul. I found a seat in the balcony, because the floor was full. And once I had time to sit down and look through the bulletin, I realized I'd missed the song. My favorite part of Easter. After church, I walked a block and a half back to my car, and I got in and put the heater on full blast, because it was raining again and I was wet. I turned the radio off, but as I started to sing, I realized I no longer know all the words. It's a song not usually sung on any day but Easter, and the words wouldn't come. So I got home and I looked them up online, and I realized I was alone. People who are close enough to home to be home on Easter generally are. And the other person who can't wasn't in the hall. She was still at church, at a service that starts later than mine. So I sat by myself in my room, singing along with a midi file of the background music, reading the words off my screen. It wasn't the memory I have of childhood, with the hymnal's cloth cover scratchy under my fingers, big and heavy in my hands and smelling of paper and ink. It wasn't my family around me singing, and I wasn't in a congregation full of joy. There was no one around, and yet I didn't feel alone. Because that's the point of Easter. Because whether it's a congregation of a thousand, a family of four, or a choir of one, Jesus is there to hear. Because at the end of the day, the God that gets me where I'm going no matter how turned around I get is the same God who said that not even death can stop him. Because he's the God who loves me enough to die, and who loves me enough to live. Because when you need him, he's standing there behind you, reading the words over your shoulder and singing in your ear. Because sometimes you need Jesus to be there for you, like when you're alone on an Easter Sunday. And no matter what, he's there. Sometimes it's nice to know you're worth it. Because Jesus stared death in the face, and he told it that the sacrifice he made was one worth making. And then he came back to this world, because he knew you'd need him. And that's the whole point.

Clarity

Some things have become clear to me lately.

Some of them became clear today. For instance, it became clear to me that I failed to keep up with my class readings for Building Tech, which I had promised myself I would do after the previous test. Oh, look, the test is tomorrow and I haven't opened the massive textbook since last test. Fail.

Also today, it became clear that I need someone to show me how to link the blog to facebook, because I had no idea anyone had been posting. Now I feel bad, since it has taken me so long to discover everyone's posts.

Also, I discovered that I was right in thinking that if I just got started on making something for my project, I would eventually figure out what I should be making. After working for a while on my design, a much better design concept became clear to me. Hooray. Maybe if I start ahead of time like this on the rest of my projects, they'll all come out better in the end.

Other things have become clear, not today, but still very recently. For example, I figured out that I've been spending a lot of time eating just because I like to eat, and that's really not a good idea. I've been trying to make sure I don't stuff myself just because I like the taste of the food, rather stopping when I am full, and just eating healthier in general.

I've discovered that it's easier to wake up semi-happily and on time when my blinds are open. Having been in a room with no window from 5th grade through the end of high school, I assumed that the more I blocked off my window, the better it would be since I felt like I was in my normal room. But, actually, sunlight is good - I know, it's a weird concept for those of us who typically prefer being awake at night, but it's actually true.

The main one I wanted to focus on is the fact that we have all been changing almost constantly throughout the course of the year. The main thing that made this clear to me was the Fab5 picture that I drew with everyone's "catchphrases". Oddly, many of those weren't entirely applicable only a month or so after they were originally drawn (except mine of course, but there's really not much hope of me suddenly becoming a neat freak and keeping my room spotless...). Still, while I know we will continue to change through the entire course of our lives, I sincerely believe that we have built a friendship that will last to the very end. In the course of just a half-year, you all have become some of the closest friends I have ever had in my entire life. I believe that ours is a friendship that will truly never end!

And now, it is clear that I need to get back to work. :(

Being a Big Sister

I like to make people happy, in general. So when my Little asked me for candy, I asked her what type. She replied "Bottlecaps." Now, for those of you who don't know, though hopefully you do because your life simply cannot be complete without this knowledge, Bottlecaps are amazing. They're a candy the consistency of Tylenol, but they taste like soda. I know, it sounds like a bad combination. But it's not. Trust me. I'd brought her Bottlecaps before. They were in a Wonka mix, which contained Bottlecaps, Nerds, Laffy Taffy, etc. We'd eaten through the mix, but I figured I could go buy her some more. So when I went to get my car's oil changed at Walmart, I figured I would pick some up. Walmart has an entire section devoted to candy. No Bottlecaps could be found. Wonka mixes could be found, but they did not contain the asked-for Bottlecaps. No problem. The next day I went to Target. None there either. The gas station was similarly Bottlecapless. Not sure where else to look, I decided I was a failure. Not because I couldn't find them, but because I had promised I would get them for my Little. I had only been her Big for a few weeks. If I began disappointing her at this point, she might never begin to trust me. So I bought a mix, to temporarily distract her from the missing Bottlecaps. And decided I would devote my time to finding these ever-elusive candies. So as I went on vacation to our nation's great capitol, I was on the lookout. None could be found on the east coast either. Finally, at a Cracker Barrel in Tennessee, I found some. And promptly bought a horrendous amount. And it was so worth it. When I came to visit her today, she ran up to hug me, and then she looked at me and asked, "Candy?" And I replied by handing her a package. And she smiled at me. I love it when little kids smile. . . .

It's funny what you miss when you leave home.

Today I did something I never thought I'd actually want to do. I swept the courtyard outside. I still remember the first time my dad asked me to do it. I thought he was crazy. "Why should I sweep outside?" I remember asking, "There's supposed to be dirt outside!" I don't remember what his answer was, but I do remember that he made me do it anyway. And I never really understood why, but I continued to sweep it when people were coming over. I usually do as little work as possible, so mostly I just did the part between the walkway and the door. Today, I swept the whole courtyard for the first time in heaven knows how long. Somehow, it was comforting, the straw of the broom going "whisk, whisk, whisk" against the old bricks that used to be red-orange and that the sun has bleached and the sand has scoured to a pink-brown. I love that courtyard. Something about it is home, especially when the bricks are warm under my bare feet in the sun, when a cool breeze blows through my hair and the sunshine fills everything up to the brim and then bubbles over in a golden waterfall. I know the way the air smells in the spring now, and the way it will smell in the summer, and the fall, and the winter, and back again. I know the way the sun and the wind and the sky will play out their dance and the way the mountains will always, always be there if I care to look around the white-bricked corner of the garage. So I swept it out, the whole thing, top to bottom and side to side. And I enjoyed it. Because as stupid as it is, as frustrating and pointless and difficult and impermanent as I've always found it, it was something I missed doing. There's something special about sweeping away all the dirt and detritus that collects at the corners, against the house. There may be dirt outside, but there's no reason it should all be in my courtyard. I swept away all the dead leaves, old feathers, and dead bugs that had blown in, all the dirt that had turned into black piles around the edges of the old pink-brown bricks. It was something worth doing. Because it's spring, and that means fall is gone, and winter, and all the dead things are replaced by new ones. After all, what's the point of a leaf rotting on brick where nothing grows? It's warm outside now, enough to eat out in the front in the shade, with a breeze blowing by, cool and gentle. And now the courtyard's ready for it. And it's because I made it so, cleaned out all the old things to make room for new life, for spring and for family and friends and visitors. I did something they've done for generations before me, something they'll do for generations after me. And dead leaves will blow back in, and dirt will collect in the corners, and bugs will crawl in and die. And it'll all be undone. But then I can clean it all out again and have a little more space for life to live. And maybe that's the point.

Slackers

You guys haven't been posting. Losers.
So I am rambling at three thirty as usual. I felt the need to express the fact that Tina is supportive of my new life plan.
Also that I think it's sad that I'm looking to an ipod for moral support.
But she's usually really mean about stuff so maybe it's a good sign that she's all for this?

Sleeepy

I'm sleepy but can't sleep. It's a dilemma. Anyway, I am very excited about today's xkcd so you guys should read it. And The Princess Bride sucks. Anyway...
How do I change my display name thing?
I am also practicing for my graded blog. We have to embed links and stuff.
And do pictures so that's what that is. Yay for my skills!

Warrior

Flutter of lids ceases.
The ring of light ‘round wax tower
Unveils a single parchment piece,
Quill and inkwell beside.

Quill raised, dipped black,
Hesitant hovers, uncertain.
One black drop falls,
Impatient.

Slight wind ripples,
But no window found open,
Only towering walls
Of bark and bough.

A leaf falls beside parchment,
Whispers of being watched,
Then vanishes, moving on
To its ground level home.

Snapping twig echoes warning.
Slow turn to see behind.
Looking back from beneath the largest tree,
The centaur warrior.

Neither moves, held transfixed.
The wind whispers unheard.
Locked eyes do not wander,
Cannot break away.

Words must have been spoken,
By the trees perhaps,
For the warrior looks sharply away,
Himself being warned.

The bond broken,
The quill may now call.
It begs to flow,
To write what eyes see.

But it is denied.
The warrior cannot, must not,
Be caged by written word.
Shall not be captured.

Movement again, he glances back,
Then swift steps away
And vanishes into dreamy woods.
Crying quill is set aside.

Why did I not write?
Many dream of holding magic in hand.
Long I have sought such wonder,
Hunted for that perfect sight.

But I could not.
I lingered too long and am glad.
For words would never do justice,
And cages kill dreams.

Apples to Apples.

One day we were playing Apples to Apples and a revelation came upon us. The green card was elitist and the winning red card was chameleons. Because, let's face it, what is more elitist than a chameleon? It's very existence seems to scream "I'm better than you. I can change color. Can you change color? I think not."

The Verbosity of Spring

Spring is the verbiest of seasons. It is that time in which all the world is a verb. Springtime things are not content to settle. They have to grow, to change, to flower. They find a way to make being what they are the most exciting of actions. Trees that have slept all winter start greening and sapping and leafing and living and treeing, and it never fails to leave me bursting with excitement. Springtime happys me. It warms, it swells, it lives. Springtime doesn't just change silently. It sings, it flies, it runs, it smells. It smells like life and sunshine. Birds come back, and they wake and they fly and they sing and the treetops bird with joyfulness. It isn't spring yet. Not by a long shot. But it is springing outside, and that's the most exciting thing of all. Can you feel it yet, see it, smell it, taste it on the wind? 'Cause I'm starting to be able to. Just a little.

Really Freakin Tired

I'm really tired right now. And I still have lots of homework to do, children to care for, etc. I also feel crappy. Yay. I hate Valentine's Day.
GRR
Xkcd hasn't updated since Friday. :( I'm dying inside. I miss my love!!!
Also I'm tired...a lot. And I should probably sleep but I'm confuzzled and wired right now. And weird...
I hate everything.
Anyway, instead of being productive or sleeping, I'm going to post some poems with no titles. Screw titles. I hate titles. I spit on titles.
So there.
Like them or die.
Umm...so I read these again and feel I should warn you guys they are kind of weird...so maybe don't read them if you are easily weirded out. Poetry is my outlet when I'm really upset...Plus they suck so...

1. (and by the way I hate you you effing bastard)
I
have been kissed by the dying sun
you
on a day in late October
when
the leaves, still breathing green
barely stirred inside the sky
we
when the air was thin and tearing
held
with eyes locked on the world
wrapped
in the blissful calm surrender
small
all the rapture-spin of
life

2. After (I lied some of them have titles)

After
there comes a feeling
of falling too quickly
a st
ep before you are ready

Jarring
you look up, but,
you can't go back

And it's all over
before it had even begun

3.
I can't stop thinking about you
You are on every inhale
that gasp of breath
it brings me back to life
And
I feel like
maybe
I died while you were gone
because
You are like my air
and without you
I drown in the sameness of life

4. Sliding in and Out of Reality

He said that one poet
is poison to another
(and Robert Frost is just ridiculous)
and I agree.
So I started wondering
if we are much alike
(though I seem to think that far too often nowadays).
Would we get along?
We could run away together.
Live around the world
on no short supply of toast and alcohol.
And I would be happy
I think.
If only I had been born
70 years ago
or even nine days later
Somewhere else
near to you.

But either way, you are there.

I hate you
for introducing us,
But then you couldn't know
what would happen.
And then it's one reason
I love you so much.
But the thing is,
I should really leave both of you.

I'm tired of speeding up
to slow back down
to catch you.

Being close is like this
sickening torture.
I twist in impossible acrobatics
just to stay stable.
But it's not working.
I love you
and
hate you
and
need you
and need to keep you away.

A needle slides under my skin.

Pupils flash white.

Face a study of grey and red.

A shock runs through me
every time I see you.
An icy hand on my wrist
spinning me around.

And here's the hard part:
filling a page with thoughts of you
is far too easy
and you don't care.

So I can't support myself.
I collapse
and clutch
at any breath of attention I can get
and drive it farther away.

As if that weren't enough,
you've broken me further
It's me
and you
and him
and her
and her
and all of us
are poured and spun and blended
in my thoughts.

Lucky for you I'm the only one who feels it.

And now I'm clinging to him
since I can't have you.
Which is ironic,
isn't it?
And even if I want to leave him,
I'll hold on now.
Because of you.

In some weird mirrored world,
we three dance.

And I am (always) the loser.

5. yeah he turned out to be a damn waste of space

6.
Bruises
are an interesting contraption
of all the angry, soft, and sad colors
bleeding into one embittered spot
A scar
a badge of pride and fear
with that greasy line of shame
running through the middle

7.
What you did to me
I endured it
I called myself brave
with the oxygen of that word
keeping me breathing
but now I know
that it was a lie
an opium to the masses
too weak to shoulder this burden.

She caught it too
and held it better
I
am merely a weaker acolyte
realizing for the first time
that this ordeal
was nothing to be proud of.

8. Don't Speak

Silence
All ye dogs of men
All ye hounds of hell
cease the noise
that fills this fragmenting day

Quiet
All you crawling birds
And you flying beasts
leave in peace
Your worrying of the earth

Deaden
All these bastards of flame
You children of water
boil the sea
to sand and salt and air

Sharpen
All daughters of men
All sons of women
Snap to heel
the end is coming soon

That's the end of them. These are mostly raw, I haven't done much editing even down to line breaks on some of them. So they're still alive and changing I suppose. Anyway, basically those are over the past two years...older ones are at home. Also cheerier? Yeah, no. I don't really write happy poems. Catharsis and all that. Yay.
I do actually feel better.
So much so that I'm posting the most depressing of the lot!
Joy?
Don't read it if you feel happy right now.
Flee.
Flee to the happiness!
Shoo! Shoo!
Happy people gone?
Okay.

Eh I lied.
It's long and I'm tired.

Swing Set Poem, As Promised

So, fun disclaimer time, this is a work in progress. But anyway, here goes.

Ode to a Swing Set on a Winter's Night

Oh, for a swing set in a golden glade,
On a moonlit mountain in a starlit shade,
Silver chains to a plastic seat,
Where heart and soul and emotion meet,
Where the world is soaring beneath my feet,
May your memory never fade.

Oh, for the straight-jacket soul unbound,
Life in the motion and the wind is found,
One soars, one swings, one spins, one flies,
Stars turn to stripes, streaks, flashes in the eyes,
And the heart goes high, stretches up to the skies,
And the wind softly rushes into sound.

Oh, for the laugh and the smile of the moon,
As the stream lightly giggles, and laughs like a loon,
The treetops twinkle and the forests hum,
And the stars sing laughter 'til the dancers come,
And the wind swirls softly 'til my fingers numb,
And the sun says it's coming soon.

Oh, for the daybreak and the glorious light,
Orange, pink, black, purple, blue all fight,
To be the color we see the most,
And the seagulls scream, winging toward the coast,
While the swing set sings like the Heaven's host,
And the world is all lovely and bright.

Realization.

So I totally just realized something. I know why I'm a business major. It's because I grew up on Henson Studios. Now wait a minute, fellow lovers of the Muppet Show and Fraggle Rock will say, Jim Henson stood for goodness in the world. Not big business. Well, think about this:

Fraggle Rock talked about inter-cultural differences. In the background of this fun-loving show were very different worlds: the world of the Fraggles (arguably the world of Henson himself, a world of play), the world of the Doozers (who love to work building, excepting, of course, their architects), the world of the Gorgs (who live in their own world where they're important), and Outer Space (where we, being humans, live). And, of course, the world of the All-Knowing, All-Seeing Trash Heap (who, apparently, sees all and knows all).

So, why am I an international business major? Because I want to go to freakin' Outer Space. Yeah.

Woa, wait a minute. Maybe the logic isn't as clear as I thought it was. . . .

Maybe this blog is named the Elitist Chameleons because we all manage to blend into this 'College Life' without anyone suspecting that we're really crazy. . . . Well, now they'll know. If they read the blog, that is. . . .

My New Archenemy

Summer Glau.

She must die.

Also, we are having a Firefly marathon at some point.

Evil girl was gone from Spanish, but so was hot guy. Sadness.

Metaphysical Delirium in Order to Test a Blog

Despite the fact that I don't really exist, I have been very ill today (nonexistently), and my fever is making me a little... loopy.

So earlier, to an empty bathroom, I shouted, "Why is toilet paper so confusing?!" That's what happens when I go to the bathroom with no glasses on while fever-delirious and try to roll off toilet paper.

The sign in my room that Rachel was kind enough to give me for Christmas last year: "Don't start with me! You won't win!"

Tonight I was explaining to Kathleen how I never lose an argument. If you make any statement, I will come up with a rebuttal. If I have no good rebuttal, I will delve into the realm of metaphysics, which I pretend I know more about than I actually do. It works every time.

Kathleen demonstrating this fact after I told her about it:
"I have to pee."
"Me too."
"No you don't. You don't exist, and neither does your pee."

*in the stalls in the bathroom*
"Kathleen, why did toilet paper confuse me so much earlier?"
"Because you don't exist. Toilet paper is the only thing that exists, so it's allowed to be confusing."
"So there's giant piles of toilet paper floating around in space somewhere?"
"Pretty much. And nothing can destroy them."
"Like cockroaches. Not even nuclear bombs can destroy them. Probably because nuclear bombs don't exist."
"So toilet paper and cockroaches are the only things that really exist... that's just depressing."

The way I get when I'm really really ill is just one of many reasons I don't drink. I never have before, but I would be a really weird drunk. I'm just glad I'm not overtly flirty when I'm sick. Because I probably would be as a drunk. I would totally flirt with that nonexistent, confusing toilet paper if I were to get drunk.

This note has no order. But I'm sharing it with random friends anyway. Loverly.

*nonexistent sneeze*