It's been one week since you looked at me...

That's the way I feel about life right now. I've been so insanely busy with so much stuff lately...moving, RA training, unpacking, class scheduling and the like, that I haven't stopped to look around for a little while. You know what? I think fall is on it's way. The mountains are browning more, the leaves on some of the trees are starting to change, and the days are getting shorter. It's even been cool enough outside at night on occasion that I felt justified in wearing a sweater...and that's pretty big news for me. You know what this time of year means? Sharpened pencils, new paper, some other random office supplies, education, clothes that feel new because it's the first time other people have seen them, and a sense of excitement...at least if you're me.

Guess what else happened today? I was at RA training, and for a second I got the greatest feeling of excitement for the other RA's there. Suddenly, I became aware of their potential, and abilities, and their excitement to be there, and I was so proud of them all. I don't even know the majority of the people there, and it completely didn't matter. I was proud of them, and excited for them, and knew that they had the potential to succeed, whether or not they chose to take it. I've been doing the same thing with everyone this week. I'm seeing so much good in people, and managing to look past things that would usually make me groan slightly internally, and getting excited about the good qualities of their personalities, and their potential. It's something that makes me so excited as an RA. I get to be the goofy excited person who has tons of energy and crazy creative ideas that are cool for one reason alone, and that's because I act like they are. People have a way of doing that too. Some of them are kind of nerdy, and some of them can be pretty sad sometimes. All they really need is someone who really does believe that they're cool, honestly and sincerely, and they start to feel like they're cooler.

That's the kind of person I want to be. The kind who's so fun to be around, and so alive and passionate about what she does, that as nerdy as it, or the people that I may be around are, it just doesn't matter, because I believe in it so strongly. Someday, I'll get there. For now, I'm going to keep trying to see the good in people, because everyone needs someone to see the good in them, especially for the times when they can't seem to see it in themselves.

Leverage, says you. I think I feel a change in the winds, says I.

You know, I'm kind of glad that the summer is coming to an end. I'm excited about having not too much to do for a couple of weeks apart from RA stuff. I'm really excited about not having classes, and I'm excited to get out of my end of summer slump, as it were.

I seem to go through times when I just get into a slump. The end of summer is one of these times. Usually though, it's only one of those times if I've spent the summer working and or going to school. At home last summer, I'd spent the summer working, came back to school, had some of the best two weeks of my life, and then was excited about school...though not as a release from the summer. Coming back to Utah was my release at that point.

This summer I've been going to school, and working almost full time all summer. It's been a long time. If I hadn't already promised to be an RA, I might consider just taking the fall off....

...that's likely a bad idea though. I'd get bored halfway through the semester, and then wonder what I was thinking thinking that I needed a break in the first place, and then I'd think I was a lazy bum, start working insanely hard, and then burn myself out halfway through winter and end up needing another break.

Way to regulate, Novel...way to regulate.

Anyway, I'm excited for the change. I'm excited for a new floor, I'm excited for new RA friends, and for new classes that are going to be fun, for working hard, feeling good about myself, getting to decorate my room, getting back into a routine that allows for regular accomplishments of little things that I've been terrible at doing for the past month (letter writing, laundry, room cleaning...bad Novel...bad). Things should work out just peachy. Thank goodness. If any of you are going to be bored/not busy next saturday, I'm going to be moving into my new place. Leave a comment or send me an e-mail if you'd like to help. I'm sure that I could provide some kind of refreshment for those interesting in helping out.

You know what else I'm looking forward to? Some alone time. RA training isn't alone in the least bit...but there are a few days where I get an entire floor all to myself. I get the room...and all the other rooms, paint, butcher paper, my own favorite music blasting however I like it, and time just to be all by myself.

Don't start to get me wrong. I absolutely love being around other people. I like my roommates, I enjoy spending time with them, I think they're great fun, it just feels like I haven't had a day's worth of hours to myself the entire summer...and even with wonderful people, that can start to grate on me (Lilaea and Uffish...don't you dare start to feel badly for yourselves ;).

Hurrah for getting to create something cool...for making a place that's ugly as anything look cool, and for feeling like I'm doing something worthwhile. Hooray for changing winds.

Happy Birthday to You....

Babies....Babies Everywhere!

You know what? I absolutely love children. I mean, it's not even just the occasional glance at a child with a fond memory of when I was a child. I really, truly adore the tiny beings.

Babies, especially, make me so happy. I find very little else in the world quite so satisfying as holding a baby and reaching that moment where they feel safe with you. You know that they love you, and they're just so...sweet.

You know, that's a really good word for babies. Sweet. Don't worry--I'm not on any sort of Swift kick here. I do not plan to eat any sort of child. They're just sweet. They smell sweet, they're soft, they're cuddly, and I love them. It makes me smile just to see one.

I'm really excited to get to be a mom someday. The idea that I get to take care of a small child all my own is definitely one of my happy thoughts. I'm glad that I don't have to do it right now...and I'm glad that I get to wait for at least a few years before having to face the rest of the reality of having children. For now though, it just makes me happy to get to see them, to get to hold them, and to know that someday, one day, I get the opportunity to have a family all my own.

*happy sigh*

Specialized Personalities

I've been thinking about people's personalities and marriage, which isn't surprising, I suppose, given that I'm a 20 year old female at BYU. It's something that seems to happen.

Anyway.

You know how we're always told that there isn't just one person that we could be happy in marriage with....That there are a lot of people out there with whom we could make a good, successful relationship and a happy home if we're just willing to work with them. Any two righteous temple-worthy adults, right? The idea of soul mates is one that has been (rightfully) denounced in the Church.

I really don't think I believe in soul mates, but I do think that there's a difference between not believing that there's only a single individual out there for you and believing that you could marry any individual who's righteous and be completely happy. Allow me to explain.

Some personalities are more generally compatible. It's kind of like majors. There are some majors and specializations that are easily applicable to any number of fields after graduation, things you get from most general education classes: basic history, principles of science, an appreciation of some of the more famous arts. Then there are things like specializing in the colloquialisms of the Mediterranean between the years of 1600 and 1741...Not something you can just bring up in regular conversation. Some people's personalities are the same way. There are the generally compatible with all sorts of people personalities, who have a wide selection of potential eternal companions because of the great number of people they'd be compatible with. Then there are the specialized personalities. These are people who are still wonderful, but they've got certain personality quirks that don't make it so that they could just have any old arranged marriage and make it work. There's absolutely nothing wrong with them, they've just got a narrower breadth of people with whom they could be potentially happy.

I think I'm a specialized personality, and I'm perfectly happy being that way. I get along with most everyone...But there are definitely a great many people whom I could rule out as possible marriage material; not because of any kind of unworthiness, but because I don't think we could be happy at all together barring some extraordinary change in their, or my personality. Don't start thinking that I'm walking down the street and picking out future husbands (not a chance), it's just something I've been observing as I've watched people run to get into a relationship and get married.

Something else that bugs me about other people's relationships is this: A lot of times when a girl is involved in a break-up she'll say something like, "Oh, I know there's someone better out there." I think the sentence needs to be changed. I don't think it's fair that a guy gets dumped on as soon as a relationship is over. Girls seem to do it all the time. They talk about how blind they were, how they never knew who the guy really was, or how terribly manipulated they were.

Girls, this is not fair. Sure there's someone else who's out there for you. And for you and your needs, he will likely be better. This doesn't make the guy who you broke up with scum, nor does it diminish his value as an individual. Some other person isn't better than him...He's just more suited to your needs and tastes. There are a few rare cases (generally involving abuse and the like) in which the guy really was a scum-bag, but a guy doesn't become scum just because he doesn't think your relationship is going somewhere. While break-ups are bound to be painful, don't dump on the guy, don't whine about how you didn' t know what you were getting into, and don't go being a jerk in general. Guys have feelings too, don't dump on them for dumping you, pick yourself up and move on. If you dumped him, fine. Don't talk about how you were wasting your time. Obviously there was something about the guy that you liked in the first place, or you wouldn't have ever started dating that person. Focus on the good, and move on.

Bunk Beds

Our apartment complex currently houses three girls to each room. This means that there are a set of bunk beds and a regular bed for each room. Currently, Uffish has the top bunk and I've got the bottom.

Now there are a great many good things about a bunk bed. You've got "tree-house" possibilities for the top bunk, and "inner sanctum"/fort possibilities for the bottom bunk. You can play drive through fast food restaurant, or weddings, and you get the comfort of knowing that one of your closest friends is right nearby in case you have a bad dream...Or something.

I've actually grown up most of my life with a bunk bed. There aren't too many downsides to bunk beds, at least in my opinion. I really like them. The only unforgivable fault they have is this:

Bunkbeds are horrifically inconvenient for being dramatic.

When I was little I would watch movies with the teenage girls in them where they would come home from a terrible day at school, or come in from having an argument with their mom or something, and then they'd toss whatever was in their hands on the ground, sob dramatically once, and then fling themselves onto the bed with their hair spilling gently over their arms into which their face was burried as they wept softly about how misunderstood they were.

I had a sort of sad wish to be able to reenact this scene in my own life. The only differences would be that I would be crying about something really worth crying about when I did it...And I'd have to do it on a bunk bed.

Finally, the day came when it was time for me to act out my scene. The day had been terrible--I'd gotten a C+ on a pre-algebra test, and it was time for me to go mourn my sorrows with my bed as my only solace.

Well...I ran into the house after being picked up from school, walked calmly down the hallway as to assure that I didn't alert my mother to my plight, and then threw the door to my bedroom askance, flung my backpack dramatically by the wayside, and ran to my bed to fling myself down.

Being entirely caught up in the moment, I seem to have forgotten the fact that I was the person who lived on the top bunk at this time. For being dramatic...That simply wouldn't do. No heroine climbs pathetically up the side ladder to melt unceremoniously onto her covers. No, no...For my big dramatic moment, I needed the bottom bunk. I decided that my sister wouldn't mind too terribly if I used her bed. I glanced around sorrowfully for effect, and then flung myself onto her bottom bunk. The only problem came mid-flight...As I seemed to have forgotten that there existed a top bunk. I ran my forehead into the top bunk as I tried to fling myself dramatically, and got flung backwards instead.

Needless to say, my dramatic moment was ruined. There was no weeping, no billowing soft hair, and definitely no comfort. All I had to show for my dramatic exploits was a bump on the head and a C+ on a pre-algebra test. What a waste of emotions!

I'm better now, I swear. Though I still get the urge on occasion to fling myself dramatically onto a mattress, I manage usually to repress the urge. I can now fully appreciate bunk beds for the space economization and their playful childlike qualities...

...At least until the next pre-algebra test.

Kids Talk About Love

Just another silly e-mail forward...but I thought it was funny.

"What does love mean?" These are answers from 4 to 8 year olds.

When my grandma got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toe nails anymore. So my grandpa does it for her now all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.
Rebecca - age 8

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouths.
Billy - age 4

Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.
Kari - age 5

Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your french fries without making them give you any of theirs.
Chrissy - age 6

Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.
Terri - age 4

Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him to make sure the taste is OK.
Danny - age 7

Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My mommy and my daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss.
Emily - age 8

Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.
Bobby - age 7

If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate.
Nikki - age 6

Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it every day.
Noelle - age 7

Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.
Tommy - age 6

During my piano recital, I was on stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.
Cindy - age 8

My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.
Clare - age 6

Love is when mommy gives daddy the best piece of chicken.
Elaine - age 5

Love is when mommy sees daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford.
Chris - age 7

Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.
Mary Ann - age 4

When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.
Karen - age 7

You really shouldn't say "I LOVE YOU" unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.
Jessica - age 8

Peeves...the Pet Kind

I should probably learn to better communicate these to people. I usually just end up sitting around irritated for a little while, until I learn to either deal with it, or fix the problem in a manner that irritates me less. Without much more ado...Allow me to present:

Novel's Eating Pet Peeves:

gulping sounds in the back of people's throats while drinking

clinking and scraping ceramic/porcelain/glass bowls/plates with metal utensils

talking with their mouth open--food spilling on their lap and other people

teeth scraping metal forks/spoons--eat the food, not the fork

shoveling food off plate and rushing off

ingratitude for a meal that someone's worked hard to cook--it's not hard to say a simple "thanks."

Novel's Kitchen Pet Peeves:

Moldy/bad/stinky food in the fridge or on the counter

having to re-wash dishes from the dishwasher because people didn't load it right or didn't rinse. Some machines are built to blast the food off with the bacteria...Others just sanitize the dishes you already wash. It's important to realize which one you've got.

utensil mixing in the utensil holder in the dishwasher (only when I'm loading)

putting utensils that are too tall in the utensil thing--just put them on the top shelf, please?

dishes being put away with food bits stuck to them...If they're not clean, they need to be re-washed.

open cabinets

Sounding OCD for bringing all this up.

I'm probably too protective of the kitchen right now--funny thing is though, that I only get this way when I've got to clean it myself, or part of it myself. If I get help, I'm all smiles and understanding. As soon as I have to do it alone though, I get grumpy.

Moral: Novel Hates doing most chores alone most of the time, and she needs to sleep.

Life is like...

I don't know that anyone else is going to understand this post...Oh well. Read on if you like.

Lately I've been feeling kind of like a patron in a really nice art museum. I'm walking around observing paintings of other people's lives and even participating in them sometimes, but sort of just passing through--much like Harry Potter I suppose...Except I seem to have lost my home frame.

I'm not really sure what it is. I'm just feeling...Less anchored perhaps? Not in certain things--the Gospel is still true, I'm supposed to be here in Provo, I don't need to cut my hair etc. All my friends are great, my life really is good. I'm just feeling out of place again I suppose.

Oh well, maybe the feeling will pass with time--I've just got to find my home frame again. Meanwhile, I'm just try and enjoy passing through everyone else's pictures, at least until I find the one that I fit into correctly.

Yeah...I don't quite fit into any of those pictures...

I Enjoy Being a Girl...

You know, as frilly as this song is...it really describes the way I feel at this moment:

When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!

When men say I'm cute and funny
And my teeth aren't teeth, but pearl,
I just lap it up like honey
I enjoy being a girl!

I flip when a fellow sends me flowers,
I drool over dresses made of lace,
I talk on the telephone for hours
With a pound and a half of cream upon my face!

I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.

Yeah...that's right...Novel Concept is really female. Surprise! Or not. :)

Anyway, Uffish and I have talked about this before. Girls (and guys too, I suppose, though I don't have any personal experience there) look good when they dress up mostly because of the way it makes them feel. When a girl wears a formal dress...the dress itself isn't really that pretty...and a lot of them are just difficult to wear, and uncomfortable to boot. The thing that makes the girls excited about them is the fact that they FEEL prettier. This means that whether or not they actually look any better than they do on a regular basis, they have more confidence, more happiness, and more excitement about the way they look because they think they actually look better. They walk taller, carry themselves with a better air about them, and smile more. Attractiveness is probably about 95% attitude--not in-your-face-don't-mess-with-me attitude, but charm, charisma, and being all around pleasurable to be around.

I used to think that putting any effort into the way that you looked was vain. I always wanted to be kind of like those girls in high school who are pretty and fun and popular, but I always told myself that I was being more real somehow, that I was being genuine, and that someday, I would be able to know that I had found the right guy by the fact that he would be overwhelmingly attracted to me no matter what--that I could walk down the street in my frumpiest pajamas having not showered for a week and he would somehow just know that I was the right girl for him. Me, in all my unwashed glory, could somehow be truer to my inner self by focusing solely on developing the inner qualities that counted, and then I could pray that the Holy Ghost would be the one to make up for any outer shortcomings that I might happen to have.

I think I also hoped for the classic ugly-girl on the weekday and then asked out on a pity date by the guy she likes and suddenly she shows up for the date and blows the guy away with her gorgeous contact-wearing, make-up bearing, stylishly clothed self and they fall madly in love because he knows her personality and now he's attracted to her to boot.

Sorry folks, but even having the spirit with you can't make it so that your outer physical appearance isn't entirely distracting. I've since greatly modified my views on the matter. While I still hope that my husband won't end up being completely repulsed by me even if we go for a week of camping and I'm wearing a cut pillowcase as a bandana to hide my unwashed hair that's still too short to put into a ponytail or french braid, I certainly don't expect that being an unwashed individual will allow them to become more focused on my radiant and sparkling personality...because it just doesn't work.

Physical appearance is something that's actually important. I still don't think that it's entirely necessary to spend hours getting ready to go to class, or that you even need to do a whole lot at all. I try to keep it to the basics--a shower, clean clothes, and a smile. Basically, I've come to think that you don't have to dress to wow people, but you should dress to make sure that you don't detract from your personality, or from people's desire to get to know you. Why do you think that missionaries have to wear suits, and keep a clean appearance? It's so that people think they're respectable, and don't discount what they have to say based solely on their appearance.

Anyway, I'm sure you all really wanted to know about this, but it's something I've come to realize the import of...and so I thought I'd share it.

Moral of the Post: Look respectable so that people are willing to get to know you and don't think you stink.

The end.

Insert Subject Here

You know, that IS always the hardest part of it. It being e-mail, blog entries, and the like. Moving on.

I really really love summer. I love the warmth, I love the breezes, I love the thunderstorms, I love the company, and I love the overall laid-back attitude that comes with it. I'm a pretty laid-back individual, and the feel of summer suits me pretty well.

I also love the ability to play in the water that comes with Summer. Swimming is one of my favorite things, behind a great many of my other more favorite things, but still up there. I also love water skiing, and have had a great desire to participate in such activity for a good couple of months now, unfortunately, I lack the funds to be able to do so at the moment...at least without the aid of someone who is already possessed of such things as boats, skis and a rope with which to tow me along happily. I look something like this: Novel Skiing

Alright, so I don't really look much anything like that. :)

Anyway, summer is great, and so is potato bread. Also, veggies...mmmmm. I LOVE vegetables.

"What can you expect from a woman? Her heart is as soft as her head!"

That's a quote from a movie version of the Scarlet Pimpernel...great quote, also...great comic.

Why Do You Build Me Up...

Buttercup baby just to let me down
Let me down
And boss me around and then worst of all
Worst of all
You never call baby when you say you will
Say you will
But I love you still
I need you
I need you
More than anyone Darlin'
You're all that I had from the start
So build me up
Build me up
Buttercup

Don't break my heart...

I I I I I NEEEED YOU more than anyone Darlin'! You're all that I had from the staaaaart. So Build me up, Buttercup, don't break my heart.

Sorry, I just had the song stuck in my head, and decided to share the love. Happy Summer All.

Santa Drives the UTA

So today I went on an adventure. It actually started last night, when I smashed my finger in a door of a car. It hurt, and so I put ice on it, and then hoped for the best. This morning, when I woke up, my finger was swollen, and it hurt to move it, but I headed off to class anyway.

Well, then I realized that I'd left my cell phone somewhere on a church step south of campus, and I was feeling a little stressed about that. So I decided it would be most prudent to leave class early and go to get it. I left, and walked down to where it was, and then called my little sister, who has knee surgery today. My finger started to hurt more, and so I decided I should tell my mom...just to do the good daughter thing, and I succeeded in freaking her out, which led to me calling everyone and their mom to try and figure out where my insurance would work...stupid insurance. I finally find a place in very N. Orem, right next to Lindon actually, and head over there on UTA.

The first bus is the 811. I get on and there's an overweight gentleman who's very talkative asking people about just about everything. He keeps asking this one girl who looks very nervous (it's her first semester at BYU) about things, and she looks as though she'd much rather just sit silently on the bus like everyone else. This bus goes to the transit station. Here I get off and get onto the 850. The same gentleman gets on again and begins talking to another young lady who apparently works with the homeless. She's decided to get tested for hepatitis as a result, and then randomly asks the larger gentleman if he knows anyone on a diet. He looks a little affronted and says that he doesn't, and he certainly isn't. She then begins to tell us how gall stones are linked to rapid weight loss, and how she's lost 70 pounds, but only about 1-3 each week. The gentleman decides that his stop is now, and gets off looking disgruntled, with a parting shot of, "I don't lose weight, and I don't gain it, I just stay the same." The bus was strangely quite after that.

Then I get to this place in Lindon that my insurance will work with. I get in there, explain the situation, and am then told that medical insurance isn't what will cover my injury, it's the owner of the car's car insurance, because it 's a car related injury. I can pay now though, and then go to the other insurance company and get the claim taken care of there. I asked them how much it would cost, they told me about $200.

Heck no.

It's a stupid pinkie. I mean, really. And it's on my left hand, and it's not at any funny angle. If it heals this way--that's fine with me. I promptly leave the clinic place and go across the street to the drugstore and buy some finger tape. I then tape my finger while I wait for the bus, get on the bus, and start heading home.

Here is where we meet Donovan and Judy. They apparently meet on the bus sometimes, and they share work stories. Judy has just started dating Vah-hah (I don't know how to spell it, but that's how it's pronounced). Donovan is sad, because he was hoping that he could date Judy, but he doesn't want to break up her 2 week old new relationship. To top this all off--Judy's hampster Harry died on Friday, and so she bought a new one--a more expensive one, who would be hardier, and less skittish. Harry was always so skittish. Skittish=Death. Now she's got Chewy, who's much less skittish, but he bites, and hard (What do you expect when you name it chew-y?). Sadly, this bus trip was then over. I'll never know what happened for Judy and Donovan.

Donovan actually boarded the 830 with me back to Provo, though he was too heartbroken to talk much. This bus was driven by Santa Clause himself--what an off-season job eh? He had this great jolly deep voice and every time he announced a street name I expected him to let out a belly laugh.

"550 West and University Parkway. Ho Ho Ho!"

Anyway, I'm finally home with my roommates and food. Mmmm...food time--what a morning though.

Elaboration

Alright, so I'm a bit addicted to 24. I'm currently in the middle of season 2 with Uffish and my sister (Who's out here for college, and living with me--I'm really excited aount it. :). So...I guess this is my question--does anyone have season 3 on DVD? If you do, and if you're anywhere near the Provo area, is there some way I can borrow it?

I could like...make you cookies or something....pleeeeeeeeeease?

Hello, My Name is Novel Concept

And I am a 24 addict.

...Cause it's Witchcraft....

So, this evening I had my third date in the past 10 months. The guy wasn't someone who was terribly attracted to me. He's just a guy in the ward. Our ward's friendship committee had set up something they called the "mandate." Basically, the thing was a ward activity that made you go in couples, and a guy in my ward asked me to go with him.

I think someone out there is practicing voodoo...

See, we get to the park and start throwing a frisbee and a football around with two other couples. About 45 minutes into the date, Senor Really-Taller-Than-I-Am dives for the frisbee and lands on his shoulder. Up to this point in the evening, he's dived for the frisbee multiple times, and it's been fine. This time, he doesn't get up, and he starts laughing nervously--clearly indicating that he's in pain. Finally, he gets up, and then we all head towards the car of one of the other couples. We all head to the ER, and poor Senor finds out that he's not dislocated his shoulder, as we all suspected, he's just managed to tear the ligaments off of two parts of his shoulder. This amounts to 6-8 weeks of a sling, a perscription for loratab, and then physical therapy.

Just to clarify, the first guy I went on a date with wasn't physically injured on our date, we all just played cranium and then went home--fun, but more of a group party. Woo hoo those RA's...what a lively bunch. :D

The second guy I went on a date with was a guy set up by my cousin so that I wouldn't be dateless when all the other RA's in our building went to preference...honestly, he wasn't my preference, but he was nice enough (he was also a freshman...). We stayed about a foot and a half apart that whole evening, and while he looked skeptical about ice skating, I decided to go and skate. He did a lot of complaining, and then claimed to have fun. He wouldn't look me in the eye whenever I tried to wave to him anywhere on campus, in the Morris Center, or in all of DT after that. Guess I ruined the poor kid somehow...oh well. Maybe his mission will help him forget all about the trauma.

Maybe I should start coming with a warning label.

Yarrrg...Whine..and a Couple of Tra la la's

That's how we laugh the day away in the merry old land of Novel's stressed.

I'm so bad right now that I just typed my real name there...oh well. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise for most of you.

Anyway. I'm really stressed right now...and so I'm doing all kinds of responsible things, like taking a break right now to write about how stressed I am instead of just finishing up what I'm working on to remove a source of the stress.

Basically, all my teachers decided to have the final papers and projects due on the last day of class, and I decided...ever so responsibly, that I would wait until the last week to get them really going.

Sooo dumb. Why don't I ever learn?

As a result, I've currently got 4 papers (1 4 page one is done...I have two 6-7 page papers left, and then a one page summary of a cspan thing that I haven't watched yet...) and two presentations (one on camping--that'll be fun, and one on the divide between the upper and lower class in America) all due on Monday. I've also got work tonight from 10pm-6am, church tomorrow at noon, and then the afternoon to finish up everything else that I need to have finished by 7:30 Monday morning.

To top it off, I'm feeling kind of grumpy because I have so much to do. I scheduled the shower I took right after work today, and then slept about 2 hours longer than I'd planned. Granted, I slept only about 6 hours, but still--it's too much. I still need to grocery shop and do laundry, and poor Uffish is stuck dealing with all of this because I'm her roommate. Even my mom got an earful when she called. Thankfully, everyone around me is being really nice and understanding and letting me vent about my frustrations--especially with group projects, but I won't go there at the moment.

Anyway, just as a side note--EFY kids are dirty little beasts when it comes to bathrooms. I cleaned the bathrooms in the WILK last night for 8 hours--and that's about how long it took to get their messes cleaned up. *shudder*

Alright, back to papers...see you on the other side.

Unless You're a Mormon...

You Were Nice This Year!

You're an uber-perfect person who is on the top of Santa's list. You probably didn't even *think* any naughty thoughts this year. Unless you're a Mormon, you've probably been a little too good. Is that extra candy cane worth being a sweetheart for 365 days straight?

Were You Naughty or Nice This Year?

Meeshka, Meeshka, Meeshka

OK, I don't think that's spelled correctly, I'm sure you'll all be able to move past that.

So today I had another adventure, and this time, it was with a kitten. I was walking home some convoluted way because I could. It was raining...and really, really cold, so the long route was probably not the best of ideas. Anyway, I'm walking through the center of my block where there are about 4 parking lots all hooked together, and I hear this small mewing. I turn around to find a small, black, wet, fuzzball following me. Obviously, I pick the cat up, and it starts to purr.

Curse the cute thing, now I know it needs me.

So then I do the really rational thing, and take it home with me. It was really dirty, terribly matted, and pretty starved, so I think it's safe to say that it didn't belong to anyone. I brought it into my apartment--you know, the one that doesn't allow pets--and fed it some milk and bread. Then I went and woke Uffish so that she could see what I'd done. Basically, we're both in love with this little cat, and we start trying to come up with names for it. I keep calling it meeshka (though spelled differently, I'm sure). Anyway, we play for a little while and then decide that it's a good time to take a cat nap (haha...get it...cat...nap...yeah.). About an hour later, I wake up and the cat is sleeping peacefully in my lap. Hooray! It's so cute, and cuddly, and it likes me--some of my favorite qualities in a companion. :) Uffish says something along the lines of "This is not a cat" because of it's extreme friendliness. I reply with, "No, it's a Puppy! Tee hee!" (this is one of my favorite episodes).

Sadly, although the puppy...I mean, kitten, was really pretty, I found out that, much as I wanted it to be true, I couldn't make myself not allergic to cats, or hatch a scheme brilliant enough that I felt like it'd be ok to keep the kitten--especially when I go back to being an RA in the fall. Alas, I'm currently looking to find it a home--though it might already have one. If you're really interested in having a kitten, and you'd still let me come and play with it. Let me know--I'll get in touch with you somehow.