Budget Sucks Life Out of Education

It has been a ridiculously long week.

The pain finally started to go away Wednesday afternoon and I finally gave in that night and went to my favorite Chinese grill so I could eat food that wasn't saltines, jello, yogurt, and applesauce. It hasn't gone away completely (the pain) but, as I munch on a bowl of Frosted Flakes, I don't feel guilty for giving in and not giving my stomach an extra day of soft food.

Pain aside, school has been incredibly insane. On Wednesday, I went to my Computer Applications in Health class and found out the my teacher is completely out of his mind. He's forcing us to write a book in about 4 weeks, a collaborative book, about a little wooden boy named PinoChico who attends Chico State as a freshmen and is trying to find the head fairy so he can become a "real boy." And we, the brilliant class who have no idea of what we are doing, have to punch out a chapter with our groups by next Wednesday and come up with freshman boy experiences for little PinoChico to have. Except I went to a community college with all the boys from my high school so I have no idea what freshman boys are like. They seem exactly like high school boys to me!

Also, currently, the state is doing this thing with big universities called Furlough Days. It is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of. If you haven't heard of it, it's where the state issues a certain # of days off of the school year and requires that the professor choose 2 or 3 more (I'm not sure how many they have to take), and, on those days, the teacher cannot sent a student an email, work on school work, or set foot on campus or they will be penalized. For the teacher, it just means that they have 3 or 4 days in the semester that they don't get paid for when they would normally have class and get paid. For the students (and especially for me, because I have a different 3 hour class every day, Monday-Thursday, instead of taking my classes twice a week for 1 1/2 hours), this means that we have to miss class, we miss out on getting material that we would otherwise get in a full semester, and we are left unready for jobs and our masters/doctorate degrees. In my case, if I have a Furlough Day (and I think I have about 10), my professor is stuck with trying to teach us 6 hours worth of material in about 3 hours in order to catch us up, or just cut part of the information out of the curriculum entirely.

If I wasn't already frustrated by the budget cuts, I'm very frustrated now. Cutting education is the WORST idea that our idiot governor has ever had, if he ever had an idea in the first place besides lift weights and shoot down the bad guys. Not only am I affected by these Furlough Days, but my statistics class is basically taught online (and I don't have the choice to take one in a classroom because they are all like this) and I come in, once a week, to talk to a professor who helps us confused people out with the online material that we don't understand. What if I want to sit in a classroom and let the teacher lecture at me so I can learn it that way, huh? Some of us can't learn things online like that! They tell you in high school that college is full of opportunity and they have things for everyone, so you can learn in all kinds of ways, and then they cut the budget, decide on one way, and then it's either "my way or the highway, buddy!"

At the community college that my sister is going to, they cut 168 classes and basically fired all the part time professors, just so they could make do. And they canceled a lot of classes the WEEK before school started, or even 2 or 3 DAYS before, so students were scrambling to find classes and many couldn't be full time students even though they had originally signed up to be full time and paid all of their fees.

You know what could save money for the state? If they turned down the amount of AC in the classrooms. It was about 90 degrees outside on Wednesday and, when we went inside, it was about 60 degrees in our classroom. That's a huge difference! And who, honestly, brings a jacket with them in 90 degree weather? I bet if they kept the temperature between 75-80 degrees in classrooms, they would save a TON of money. If we're already wearing shorts and tank tops, who cares if the classrooms are a little warm? It's better than getting frostbite from the temperature change!

I am ready to take this to the governor himself, since I live about 1 1/2 hours away from the state capital. Because this is absolutely ridiculous. He's giving my state a bad rep, to the point where I am strongly convince that I am going to move out of state for my Master's degree, even if it means more fees. At least I will get a decent education that way.

What do you think?

And the Saga Continues...

Day 2 of Hell.

I really don't enjoy complaining on this blog (and I feel that's all I've been doing for the past few days) but today really sucked. And it's not even noon yet.

I didn't get any sleep last night. Apparently, I am allergic to the medication that the doctor at the Health Clinic gave to me yesterday. If you ever want to kill me, all you have to do is give me a large shot of doxycycline and I'm finished. Tossing and turning and severe stomach pain (that I still have, unfortunately) and nausea (with the desire to vomit but, unfortunately, the world is not that kind) led me to go back to the Health Clinic this morning (with Jo this time, who drove me there, but had to leave early for a class so I had to walk home anyway).

And... what a surprise! The doctor who had drugged me up yesterday wasn't even here today. I sat in the waiting room in silence, contemplating suicide every time my stomach gave me a new jab to remind me just how much I loved it. Finally, the doctor called me in and, fortunately, she was very sympathetic. She even used a line that I was going to use - "This has just not been your week" - so all I could come up with was, "Tell me about it" and proceed to grumble to her about how the medication messed me up last night and the fact that I have a night class tonight that I'm not looking forward to due to the pain that my stomach has been enjoying giving me.
"What classes do you have?" she asked.
"Yoga." I sighed. "I don't want to go."
"Well, I'll give you a doctor's note for that. What else do you have?"
"Drugs in Our Society."
Seems a little ironic, don't you think? I could totally give a lecture today about how much drugs mess you up.

She tried to put me on another oral medication but I refused, telling her that I didn't want to take any more pills if they were just going to mess me up. So we settled on a cream, she gave me instructions to be on a strictly soft foods diet, and then she let me go.

I walked home, somewhat happy about the whole soft foods thing because I absolutely LOVE apple sauce and this means I have an excuse to buy and eat all of the apple sauce that I could ever want. Saltines, too, but I love apple sauce more. However, my happiness immediately faded when I walked in the front door. I logged onto the student job web site and got this little gem:

Your account has been disabled. Please contact your Career Services Office for additional service.

WHAT????? I just logged on last night! I just applied for a job! What do you mean I got kicked off?? What have I ever done to them? Raaaaaaaaggggeeeeee!

So, now, I have a very short period of time in which I need to take a shower, bike to school, visit the Career Service Office, try not to get angry (despite the fact that my stomach tells me otherwise), find out whether I have still applied for that job that I'm qualified for, visit the school newspaper for Copy Editor info, go to my yoga class, come home, go get worms for Esther, eat, and go back to school for my Drugs lecture. And I just spent fifteen minutes telling you all of this, dear reader, hoping that somebody has sympathy for me. This is one of those days where I need a hug.

Fun filled.

I hate complaining on this thing but, today, I really don't give a darn.

It Only Gets Better

I have had crazy first days before but today topped the cake.

(DISCLAIMER: As I'm now a Health Ed major, I'm using real terms for a person's sex parts. So, if this upsets you, you might not want to read this blog. There aren't any pornographic scenes in this blog. I just don't want people freaking out if I used the proper term for a woman' Va-JJ.)

I woke up this morning with 3 things in mind: apply for a job, visit my adviser, and visit the health center.

My first stop was was to my adviser's office, 6 stories up the 2nd tallest building on campus. I needed to make a student education plan to turn in so I could get a certain amount of money that I get every month from the government. Even though my adviser had told me she would be there early, I'm assuming my time and her time was much different because she wasn't there. I checked my watch (8:30am) and signed my name next to the next earliest time slot (9:20am), imagining that I could get to the health center and back in time. So I left and went to apply for a job on campus that had just shown up on the student employment website (and just disappeared, which makes me really ridiculously nervous). When I walked in, the lady at the front desk was extremely nice to me, helping me with the application form, but, before I could turn it in, a man came in and began to cause some problems. When I say problems, I mean he was very rude to her and inconsiderate of the fact that she was trying very hard to help him. I finished my application and no one even looked at me as I set it down on the counter, so I tip-toed out of the office, praying that they took my application and looked at it. (I'm really qualified for this job so I'm even going to go in again tomorrow just to make sure.)

Then I went to the Student Health Center. The craziness begins.

I have had quite a few "injuries" in the past week. Yesterday, I cut my thumb while cutting watermelon (and have now been asked twice if I'm current on my tetanus shots). Last Monday, I shrunk my favorite pair of slip-ons after putting them in the washing machine with towels on hot and then went on a job hunt with them on, which was a dumb idea because the back of my feet are just beginning to heal after the horrific blisters that the now-tossed shoes caused. And then there's the folliculitis, which appeared out of no where on my legs and I finally convinced myself to go into the Health Center for it. As I walked in, I checked in with the receptionist and told her what I had and she asked me to take a seat. I was called in only a few blissful minutes later and sat down with a nurse to get my weight and blood pressure and such. And then this conversation took place:
Nurse: So, Megan, how can I help you today?
Me: Well, I have folliculitis and I'd just like it to be taken care of.
Nurse: ...I see.
Me: Because, you know it's embarrassing. It's all over my legs. I cant even wear shorts.
Nurse: It's... on your legs?
Me: Ya. Look. (I pull up the leg of my jeans). Where else would it be?
Nurse: Ah. There must have been some mistake. This says you're in here for a vaginal exam.
Me: What??
We got the matter straightened out but I was still mistakened for another Megan who was there (maybe she was there for the vaginal exam but it certainly wasn't me!). By the time I got out of the Health Center it was... yes, you guessed it... 9:20. I ran all the way back to my adviser's room only to find her waiting for me without any one else around so I got that taken care of.

I went home to shower before class at 2 and took a pill for my folliculitis before I got in. It had said on the bottle that I was supposed to eat before taking a pill but me, being the dummy I am, decided that since I wasn't really hungry at the moment and had eaten at 8, I could take it without a problem. Boy, that was dumb. As I got out of the shower, I was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming urge to vomit and my stomach cramped something fierce. I sat on the floor next to the toilet for about 20 minutes, debating whether or not I really wanted to get up and dry my hair. I eventually did and, by the time I had to go to school, I was rushing.

I got my bike out the door. I locked the door. I got on my bike and put my foot on the pedal and... nothing happened. I didn't go anywhere. I looked down to realize the chain had COME OFF MY BIKE PEDALS! One glance at my watch told me that I only had about 30 minutes until I had to be at school. Parking cars at school is absolutely a no no and parking your bike... it's hard, as well. Quickly, my hands shaking like crazy, I started trying to figure out how to put my chain back on. I went by instinct because I'm not a bike person. (I've never put a bike together or fixed it or anything.) Finally the chain was on but I still stared at the bike, wondering if I put it on right. Who, honestly, looks at their bike when it's fine? So, I ran back in the house to try and clean off the grease off my hands as fast as possible and then ran back out, somehow misplacing my sunglasses along the way (but as this point I didn't care). I move my bike a few feet forward and then it made an odd rrrrrrggg sound. "Dang," I thought. "I killed it. I don't even know how it died! I just biked home 3 hours ago..." Thankfully, I bumped into one of my neighbors and he told me that everything was fine, it was just the rain guard bumping against the tire, which we fixed. I rode to school.

The day definitely looked up after that. My class today was Human Sexuality and my professor told the funniest story that I have ever heard. Apparently, one of her friends is a gynacologist and they get together occasionally to tell stories. He told her about this girl who came to him for birth control and he gave her a prescription for the pill. He expected to see her in about a year for her annual check-up but, instead, she was in 3 or 4 weeks later, with signs of being pregnant. He checked to make sure that she had been taking the pill every day, at the same time, and she had, so he was confused as to why she was pregnant if she and her boyfriend had both been using birth control. Well, it turned out that she had been following his directions, but, instead of taking it orally, she had been placing the pill inside of her vagina. Yea. Totally made my day.

Then I came home and watched this and I'm now cheered up.

Standards

I've been trying to figure out how to phrase this. I suppose I'll just start from the beginning.

I remember going to church as a kid where you wore your church dress and there was a choir and church was church. You went there to learn, be fed with the Word of God, and filled with the joy of being in Christ.

I was a kid, though, and that memory is a stale 10 years old. Today you find more bands than choirs and I'm thrilled when I can wear a pair of jeans on a Sunday instead of scrounging around for a nice skirt (I wouldn't normally mind wearing a skirt but I have something along the lines of folliculitis and my legs look a mess). Never-the-less, despite the changes, I still go to church on Sundays to be fed. Finding a church up here was a bit easier for Jo and I because my pastor's older brother teaches up here, so we switch off with his church (non-denominational) and an episcopal church (for Jo) every other week. So far, I've been fairly cool with going to his church because he was very nice to us when we introduced ourselves and he's had a few good talks with Jo, who likes to discuss religion much more than I do. Also, this church is relaxed, just like my pastor's from home, so I felt like the transition went fairly smoothly. However, today kind of threw me off guard.

For a moment, stop to ponder this: where do you draw the line at how relaxed a church is? I'm not talking beliefs but what specifically is or is not allowed of the congregation.

My pastor's brother's church is housed in an old movie theater and it is what I would call "a mega church." It has a large congregation and I'm not surprised that I hardly recognize any regulars because I A) am there every other week and B) have only been a couple of times due to trips home. When Jo and I walked in today, the worship service had just begun so we searched for seats and other people arrived and sat around us until the whole place was fairly full. Normally, I hardly pay any attention to the people around me because I'm there to learn but, today, the guy sitting on my left definitely caught my eye to the point where I was distracted by him for most of the service.

Let me begin with this by mentioning that this church, like my pastor's, has a coffee shop, so I'm used to seeing at least half of the congregation sitting with hot or cold coffee in the cup holders. The guy sitting on my right had brought his own water bottle and that had no effect on me. What began to irritate me a little was when he decided to pull out a power bar and proceed to ear it fairly loudly, twisting the wrapper down so it made that horrible crinkly sound. I nudged Jo and we both smiled in an agreement of "how weird" and then I went back to listening. 5-10 minutes later, I was distracted again by heavy breathing and, looking to my left, I saw that he had begun to fall asleep. OK, I admit, I will get sleepy in church at times but I have never permitted myself to actually fall asleep because I feel it is very disrespectful to your pastor as well as to God, so I was slightly annoyed by this. Especially by the fact that he woke up, dozed off, woke up, and dozed off again. Sighing to myself, I returned my attention to the pastor.

Then I heard it. The crinkle of light plastic. I looked over to see him reaching into a bag of Jelly Belly's that a girl (daughter/sister?) was holding out for him. At that point, I was done. "What are you doing?" I wanted to say to him. "This isn't a lecture. This is church. You're snacking through church! Did you not eat breakfast or lunch? Excuse me?"

I realize that this may sound a bit harsh (and mom and I have already had this chat so I know exactly how she feels) but this kind of turned me off of the church. I mean, my pastor's church was probably the most relaxed church I've been to but no one snacks in there. And people there stand up and worship without needing the band telling them to. What are these people afraid of? I'm not just talking about a few people, either. I mean BIG theater seating. And, when the band was finished playing a song that seemed to be a local favorite or a hit, half of the congregation clapped. Excuse me? This isn't a concert. This is worship service! This band is playing to lead us in worship, not perform their favorite songs for our enjoyment. This shouldn't bug me but, honestly, I feel that a lot of standards and traditions have gone down the drain. If I didn't disagree so much with most of the Catholic doctrine, I would become Catholic because I feel like basic church standard is gone. Eating during church. Sleeping during church. Next thing you know, people will be texting on their cell phones, bringing their laptops, and answering phone calls.

I realize that the people shouldn't judge a church on it's congregation but doesn't a congregation reflect the church? I pondered this with Jo all the way back to my apartment because this was something that bugged him as well. And we've decided that this church has received a little check in our "black book". If I didn't adore the pastor and his brother so much, I'd be researching new churches before next Sunday to visit. However, due to the beliefs of my mom that, if I feel that I am being fed properly, that I should keep going, I've decided to give it another chance.

I want to throw these thoughts out there to all of you. I'm curious for a response as to what you think about current church standards and whether or not you think I'm out of line. Honestly. Give me your thoughts. Don't hold back. Not today.

3-2-1 and the Editing Has Begun

I have spent the past 3 hours today, plus 2 hours yesterday, editing the first five stories that are up for review on Week One.

And I have learned something very important about myself, something I know pretty much already but was very obvious today: I'm not very patient with myself.

I like to know things. Now. I hate struggling with something that I know that I will be very good at in a week's time but am having a hard time with at the moment. For example, I'm learning how to do stuff in AP Style and I've only written in MLA format before. And, while AP Style is turning out to be fairly easy to learn, I'm having to learn it on the spot and apply it in what I'm doing. If I can't find it, then I have to contact one of the other copy editors to help me and I know that they're getting tired of my endless questions. Is this supposed to be capitalized? Do I have to state that it's the website specifically? Do I have to keep using Individual Honors or can I just shorten it to Honors? Do I have to use the "he said" and "she said" all the time? (That one kills me the most.) The list is endless.

I was relieved and terrified to send the completed stories to the chief editor, not know if I had caught all the corrections or not. The feeling of failure terrifies me.

This is probably a reason why I'm having so much trouble writing a second draft of my novel. My first draft is there, the idea is there, the basic plotline is there, but I'm afraid to get it done, get it edited, and get it rejected. The fact that I'll be published by October means very little to me because it is friends of mine (well, friends of Jo's) who are publishing my two stories and, while I know that all the professional astronomers who have heard the stories have thought they were good, I still haven't ever had to go through the terrifying process of submitting them to an editor to decide whether or not they are worthy of a book.

Today, I thought I would post the stories that my two sweet little cousins wrote when I was living with them two weeks ago. I'm sure they wont mind if I post them, since Mary is 5 and Zac is 7. This whole thing started when I first got to Bakersfield a couple of weeks ago and told Mary that I would make her into my little prodigy. She decided that she didn't like the stories I wrote and read to her (because she's 5 and who can honestly understand Pluto's issues with planethood at 5?) so she made me jump onto my laptop and write this little gem (btw, I somewhat corrected these stories grammatically so they would make more sense but the ridiculousness of it still belongs to the kids):

The End Book

There once was a girl who liked to sleep. Her mom said it was time for breakfast and her mom told her it was time for lunch and time for dinner and she didn’t eat any food. And she died when she was sleeping. The end.

After which, Zac heard what we were doing and decided that I needed to write one for him:

Zoo Mischief

Once upon a time there was a zookeeper. Once day, a chimp got out of his cage. He stole the keys from the zookeeper and unlocked every animal from their cages in the zoo. A little girl saw an elephant and patted its back. The elephant fell fast asleep and the zookeeper heard the elephant snoring. Quickly, he rushed to gather up all of the animals and locked back in their cages once again, especially the naughty chimpanzee. The end.

And Mary demanded a third, which was interuppted in the middle due to a phone call so I'm sure that's why it sounds a little odd:

Space Chimps

There were once three chimps. The littlest chimp said, “I have a mission.” The chimp went into space with his mommy and daddy. The chimp went into space. The big boy chimp went inside and then got out and the ship blasted back. He said, “Chimps don’t leave chimps behind.” Then they made a new rocket. They went back into space. The end.

At this point, I saved their stories and switched back to working on my novel. Mary put up a fuss s0 I ignored her most of the time and she ended up sitting next to me on the couch, staring blankly at what I was writing, and pointing to a paragraph every couple of seconds and asking "what does that say?" She's a very vocal kid. I love her, though.

She and I spent one evening taking crazy pictures on my laptop (because I have the Mac Photobooth). Here's a few of my favorites:Zac joined in here.
This is the totem pole with Mary, myself, and one of my uncles.
I taught her how to do a fish face.
She gives the weirdest kisses. They're all large and sloppy and wet but... gotta love 'em.
I don't actually look like this but Jo thought it was hilarious and forced me to post it. He just told me he wants to blow it up and put it on his wall. Meh.
Duuuuuuuhhhh.....
Cousins Unite!

None of these photos are flattering, of course, but it shows that, when Mary and I do get along, we have a TON of fun. I can't wait until she's old enough to come and stay with me for a week.

Little Leo

Today's blog is brought to you by a lucky leopard lizard named Esther!


Well, she's actually a leopard gecko BUT the point of today's blog is that I was looking through some old photos of my little queen when Jo and I first got her and she has really grown BIG. I thought I'd share with you the little creature that has captured my heart. And Jo's. He adores our little fatty. So, this next picture is one that we took when we first got her. I'm pretty sure she was about 3-4 months old when we bought her. And she is VERY skinny, as well.

It's been about 7-8 months since we've had her and, already, she's grown a ton. We got a good deal on her because of her tail, which you can see is an odd orange/pink color. This is because, when she was a baby, she lost it and this humongous monstrosity of a tail grew back. That goes for a lower price because, supposedly, it makes her less attractive. I think it gives her personality. Normally, when I show her to people, that's the first thing they notice. It is supposed to be large (because they store food in their tail) but I'm not sure if it's supposed to be that large. Anyway, when I was taking a picture last night, I think she noticed. The expression on her face is something like "I'm so photogenic that I will break your camera."

This is also a pretty rare moment captured. She doesn't come out in the daytime often (because she's nocturnal) so, when I came in to see her drinking from her water bowl (something I've only seen once) I had to take a picture of it. I have seen her lick things; she'll lick my finger sometimes when I pick her up and she also licks the glass of her tank after we have just cleaned it. (Mmm... glass cleaner products that can kill you.)

Yes, this little queen has captured my heart. And, yes, we did name her for Queen Esther in the Bible and she has turned into quite a picky/stubborn little queen. And a fatty. I'm looking forward to see how she looks next January, after she has officially been a year old. Geckos live up to between 15-20 years and I'm hoping to keep her for quite a long time. She probably wont live as long as she might with a house mate but, since she is my first major reptile pet (I'm allergic to cats, dogs, rabbits, ect.), I started basic.

If you have any questions about her (or leos in general), feel free to post and I will gladly answer them.

And now on to the prompt!!

Prompt#5: The Ten Commandments are discovered in an unopened chamber in Machu Picchu.

The day came and no one was prepared for it.

Historians and scientists lucky enough to be needed in the field study stared in horror, examined in wonder, and excitedly tried to date the stones.

Christians turned their eyes to the heavens, shouting, “Why?”

Atheists laughed.

Muslims were satisfied.

Buddhists didn’t care.

Israel was baffled.

The U.S. was baffled.

Peru was really baffled.

And all waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until, over the news, the reporter announced that the Ten Commandments were authentic. All the Christians died of sudden, bewildering heart attacks. And everyone else ran around, not knowing what to think.

Some called it rapture.

Others called it insanity.

Some came to faith.

Others ran from it.

Up at the pearly gates, Jesus and God watched as the people began to pour in, staring at them in amazement. And, as Saint Peter came forth to record each name into the Book of Life, God turned his gaze over the people…quieting their questions about what had taken place on Earth…

And then, with two thumbs up, he shouted, “Gotcha!” and high-fived Jesus.

Grim

Chico is beginning to come alive.

Or so I'm told. There are definitely more people here this week than there was this time last week. And, as I strolled through the campus towards downtown, where I spent about 30 minutes looking for HELP WANTED signs and then gave up, I had to smile. Because school is starting soon. And I'm ridiculously excited. I'm one of those weird students that hates summer unless I'm in summer school (which happened for the first time this summer in a while) and loves being busy with school work. My brain feels like it is functioning again and I feel like I can WRITE, which is good, because I still have many chapters to go before I have to be at the conference on Oct 2. I was thrilled to see new freshmen coming in, wandering the campus with their parents and looking for their classes.

I was not thrilled to see people downtown, however, because I was looking for a job. Still looking. The job front really hasn't done too well with me this year and it still looks grim. My heart sank after walking into Jamba Juice to inquire after a job and the girl telling me, "Sorry, we just did all of our hiring." Really? When did this happen? Was it last week, when I spent most of the week thinking I was going to get a job and then got a letter of rejection? I seriously should have some ESP job thing, where I KNOW where/if places are hiring. And if I could get a job working there. And, just as I thought of going back, I overheard a conversation between two students that went a bit like this:
Boy: I've spent this entire week working...
Girl: Working? You found a job already? How did you do that?
Boy: No, I meant working out. I haven't even started looking for a job yet.
Girl: Yea. I want to enjoy my last week of summer before I go get a job.
At this point, I wanted to throw myself at her feet and shout, "Teach me your ways!" because I've been looking for a job for weeks and if THIS girl can get a job before me, I will have a heart attack. HOWEVER, I was NOT desperate enough to walk into the local hardware store and offer my services A. because I know they would offer me a job right away and B. because I promised myself that 5 years was all I was going to spend in the hardware business. And my 5 years are over with.

So, instead, I walked back to the school to check my bank account and see if my financial aid money had transferred into my account yet. Today is the day it's supposed to be dispersed and I figured that, if I couldn't find a job, I could at least spend 2 months worth of food money and get my books. But my account hadn't changed. So, in an attempt to depress myself, I went into the bookstore to see how many used books in my classes were left... and that looked grim as well! Long story short, I had to go to financial aid to find out why my money hadn't transferred, they told me I hadn't done the procedure soon enough, I had a brief mental breakdown (because the only way I can relieve stress is to cry - hopefully my yoga class will change that), called my mom, got a pep talk that went along the lines of "you can put the money in the bank when it comes!", and went to buy all my books.

Then I biked home, praying to the gods of air and rubber that my front tire wouldn't pop from the weight of the books in my basket on the tire. Along the way, I almost had a heart attack twice because I saw two police cars (driving past me quite slowly, I might add) and I have not yet registered my bike. I was afraid they would have my ESP and pull me over for parking my bike on campus so many times without a permit. However, I arrived home ticket free...

But to a smelly apartment.

I hate that. My apartment has had this weird, funky smell for the past few weeks and I cant figure out what it is for the life of me. I've checked everything. I take the trash out regularly, I clean out my garbage disposal on the sink, and it's certainly not coming from under the sink. I've even checked Esther's tank and we just changed her mat this week so it shouldn't be that either. But it's driving me crazy. (It reminds me of the time that mom shoved all this old broccoli down the garbage disposal and it got stuck and my dad had to open up the pipe under the sink so he could clean it out and the house smelled like old broccoli for weeks. Gross. The reason why I no longer eat broccoli.) And Jo can't smell it, which drives me even more crazy because I wonder if I'm going crazy! So, I poured some lemon juice down my garbage disposal and it seems to have cleared the smell for now. That or I'm just used to it by now.

Only time will tell. But I will be here... waiting.

Busy Busy Busy

School is less than a week away and, suddenly, my life is busy again! I got filled in for the position as the second copy editor for the features page of the school newspaper so I spent all morning getting that set up. Apparently, I got all of the corrections right on the exercise that the chief copy editor sent to me, I just lacked a bit in the AP Style stuff, so I now have to memorize the AP style book by next week. My inbox for my email has been full because I have several different email addresses being forwarded to it so I can keep track of 3 or 4 different addresses in one inbox instead of going to all 3 or 4. Stories start being sent out for copy editing on Friday evening and they are due by Saturday evening so I have to get crackin' on those when they come in.

On top of this, there is a mandatory staff meeting next Monday, during the first day of my Human Sexuality class, so I had to contact my professor and ask if I could get out of class a bit early in order to go to the meeting. Apparently, the newspaper isn't just extra curricular, it's actually a class so the meeting is covering how I can get signed up for it. She (my professor) was not at all happy about it but she said that I could go if it was this one time only.

My inbox has also been filled with a lot of safety instructions from the college. Apparently, last Friday, a girl got raped by two guys just off of campus as she was walking home in the evening. I'm promising you all now that I will not be biking home alone at night. I have one class that goes until 9pm and Jo has already promised that he will come meet me and bike me home. Still, the whole thing is totally freaky and school hasn't even started yet.

Also, on the prompt side of things, I couldn't bring myself to write the prompt that Jo gave me, so he will be picking a new one for tomorrow. The one I was supposed to write was this: A couple on the brink of a nasty divorce gets snowed in together during a blizzard. Stay tuned for tomorrow's prompt!

Yin and Yang

Good and bad. The past 36 hours have been filled with a bit of both. But you know that little dot that floats in the middle of each?

Yea. That's the crazy.

Last night, Jo and I got together with my friend Ian and some of his friends for a continuation of my Mel Gibson movie fest. I had already watched Braveheart that afternoon (which I have never seen before) which is an awesome movie, so watching Payback that evening was kind of a downer. Not my favorite Mel Gibson movie.

The real "fun" of the night started when the brother of one of the girls accidentally locked her keys into the back of her trunk and we all spent about an hour trying to get them out. We tried looking for a spare key, finding a spare key and then discovering that it was the key to the ignition and not to the door, and using a coat hanger to break in and open the door. She even went home with her boyfriend to see if the key was at her house and I'm not sure if they were able to get into the house because the locked keys also held the key to her house. In the end, we had to call AAA, who were late (of course) and I left by the time that they even got there.

In the midst of all of this happening, I was also hit on/flirted with by a girl in the sorority that Ian lives next to. I'll have to admit that it was my first time and a little... disturbing. She sort of stopped once she hit on Jo and then he mentioned that he was dating me. But, it didn't stop her from saying that, despite the fact that she has a boyfriend, she thinks the whole point of getting drunk is to make out with chicks, which isn't technically cheating.

Yea.

Anyway, I woke today in anticipation of finding a job. I was bound determined to get back on my feet again. Which is the opposite of what I wanted to do when I got to the school... because, let's face it: when you wash your favorite pair of slip-ons on the hot cycle with your sheets and towels, they're bound to shrink. Which makes feet hurt and creates large blisters. Not very fun. I started noticing the pain as I was walking to apply as a Copy Editor to the college newspaper (update on that after 5pm tomorrow!) and, by the time that I headed out of there towards two job opportunities, I was wincing in pain. One opportunity was to work in a children's clothing store and, when I got there, they admitted that they had already hired someone YESTERDAY and had forgotten to take the ad off the college job search. Yeah. The other job was working as a helper (writing, reading) for disabled students and she had already hired enough people but told me to come back Friday (in case someone decided to cancel) because I mentioned that I had my minor in English.

So, I admit... by the time I got home, my feet were in pain due to large blisters on my heels and I had failed yet again at finding a job, and I wanted to do was cry. Which I did. (Being a girl really helps on this front, by the way, because one can cry and their boyfriend just lets them do it because we girls are allowed to release our emotion in a salty wave of tears.) BUT!!! I was immediately cheered up when the mail came because my wonderful grandparents send me $500 to get me through the rest of the month.

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!

So, that's my conclusion for the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Rejected

Yesterday, I got this letter in the mail:

Dear Megan;

Thank you for applying and for taking the time to come in and meeting with us for the position in the Financial Aid and Scholarship Office.

As I'm sure you can imagine we have several applicants therefore making the final decision was not easy. Your interview skills were commendable and you also did well with the writing exercise. However we have offered the job to another candidate. I'm certain with continued persistence and given your experience you will secure a work study or other job oppertunity in the very near future.

Good luck with the upcoming fall 2009 semester.

*Insert Name Here*
Financial Aid and Scholarship Office


So, yes, I got rejected from the job. I remember that as I read this letter yesterday, I wasn't really that disappointed or stressed out about it. I was hoping that I would get the job, sure, because the hours were good and the money was decent but it never really hit me as something else to be stressed out about. There are 2 other work study jobs that I'm going to apply for this week and hopefully, with some luck, I'll be able to find something. What really bugs me about the letter, now that I read it over, is the fact that it lacks punctuation and proper grammar. I mean, hello? The first sentence of the second major paragraph is severely lacking. It's almost painful to read. I almost want to correct the entire thing and send it back to them. I realize they needed to type up a generic letter to send to all of us that they rejected but they could have at least put a little effort into it. Seriously!!!

Oh, and on top of this, when Jo and I went to the mall on Friday, the lady at the Orange Julius place remembered us and asked if we have found jobs yet, to which both of us replied "No." So she said she would dig our resumes back up and give us a call. I hope she will but I kind of doubt it. Anyway, work study is more of what I'm looking for at the moment.

Changing the subject, last night we went to see the Time Traveler's Wife.
I just recently discovered that Eric Bana actually played the bad guy in the new Star Trek film (which I loved, by the way) so I was very intrigued by this movie. Also because I love Rachel McAdams (and Jo's in love with her because The Notebook is his favorite movie of all time). So, after much pleading, we went to see it last night and, I have to say, it was money well-spent.

I knew I would cry. I thought maybe I would cry throughout the whole movie (like you do in The Notebook) but when the tears came at the end of the movie, it was a total relief. And then came the thought of: I need to buy and read this book! because the movie hit me that hard. What really affected me the most (warning: SPOILER) was that, when they were trying to have a baby and continued to have a miscarriage, it was because the baby kept trying to time travel out of the womb. How amazing is that? The author must have put so much thought into this book.

So, now, after writing prompt #3, I'm inspired to work on my own novel. I'll leave you all to my latest edition of crazy prompts while I run off to go and play writer. (By the way, just so you all know, I'm a novel writer so writing these 1 page or less prompts has been very difficult for me and, because I do them on a whim, I'm unsatisfied with most of them. So if you don't like them, chances are that I had a tough time with them too because I either wanted to make them longer or just not approach the subject.)

Prompt #3: “You know, they invented a word for guys like him.”

“What? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?”

“No. Imaginary.”

Jane looked down at her computer and then glanced back up again at Linda and Kristina. “You’re going to hurt his feelings if you say stuff like that. He’s a very sensitive soul, you know.”

Kristina took Jane by the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “No, you’re sensitive. Bruce is not real, do you understand? He’s fake.”

“But he’s real to me.”

“She’s hopeless.” Linda took Kristina by the arm and let her towards the apartment door. “She’s in love with a character she’s writing about. We can’t help her now. Maybe when Valentines Day rolls around, we might be able to get her a blind date or something…” They exited the apartment.

Jane released a sigh of relief, pushing back her long bangs that had fallen into her face just as her closet door open and out stepped Bruce, looking highly uncomfortable. “Did you have to stick me in the closet?” he asked as she flew into his arms, burying herself in his shirt. “It smells like old shoes in there.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if I tried to explain it to them,” she replied. “They would call me crazy and stick me in some mental institution and lock me up forever. My own friends.”

“Yes, yes…” He patted her on the head, like a good little child and wrapped his arms around her waist. “That’s the downside to schizophrenia. But, on the other hand, you have me. And I’m much more important than they are.”

Jane nodded in agreement and then settled down on the couch with Bruce for another long night of watching movies and talking until the sun came up. “Imaginary. Hah,” she said to herself. “I bet they couldn’t get anyone better.”

Watching Them Fall

Last night, Jo and I joined our friend Ian and seven of his friends in watching the movie Taken. I have to say, I had been a little afraid to watch it but I love Liam Neesson and we decided that the movie was basically him playing Qui'gon Jin physically instead of using the Force in Star Wars. If you haven't seen this movie... it's really up to you to decide whether or not you would like it. It covers the issue of the trafficking of women, which is something I've learning in my women's health class last semester. It's a very sad movie.

After the movie, we piled all ten people into two cars and drove north to a little elementary school, where we hopped the fence and watched the meteor shower. It wasn't a bad meteor show; if I hadn't been as cold as I was, I would have liked to stay longer because the clouds were beginning to burn off (we stayed until 1:30 am). I know for sure I'm not cut out to be a crazy college student when I hop the fence of an elementary school at midnight and spent the entire time afraid that cops are going to show up and throw us in jail and wondering what my mother will say when I call her because she is 7 hours away and cant just come and get me.

My favorite meteor shower took place when I lived in Tehachapi. We had broken down on the side of the freeway while coming back home from Bakersfield after a Condor's game (hockey). The girls (my mom, my sister, and I) had to ride in the van on the back of the tow truck (which is VERY illegal, by the way) while my dad rode in the passenger seat with the driver. By the time we got home (which was around 1 in the morning), the meteors were falling at full speed and we had our faces pressed up against the glass, not able to keep up with all of them. Then, after we had gotten home, my parents pulled chairs and blankets out on the deck and we all had stayed up until 2, watching the sky. The Tehachapi sky is magnificent at night. I miss it.

Anyway, today's prompt was a little ironic because it reminded me of the movie last night. I apologize if the subject makes you all a little uncomfortable but it was the first thing that came to mind when Jo presented the prompt to me. So, here it goes:

Prompt #2: A priest is attacked for being a pedophile. He is innocent of the crime but guilty of something far worse.

There were tales that St. John’s Abby was haunted. Others just said it was cursed. It was something, indeed, for in the past year, eleven of its alter boys had disappeared. Father Bernard knew better and, when the royal guard broke into his office that fateful evening, he knew that they knew better as well.

But they were wrong.

“Pedophile!” Captain Rolf shouted, pointing an accusatory finger Bernard.

Bernard stood, a trace of a smile on his face. “My dear captain of the guard, you cannot possibly mean to say that I have done anything to my boys…”

“I want my son back!” a mother shouted from the doorway. As she pushed in, another mother appeared… and a father… another mother… They continued to pour into Bernard’s office, despite his objections.

And then they were on him, beating him, biting him, screaming how they wanted their sons back and how they would do anything in order to get them.

Rolf searched Bernard’s office, ignoring the priest’s pleas. In a drawer he found strange papers with the names of the missing boys. In another he found locations of far off places and new names that were associated with each place. He continued to search, sneaking through a door exiting Bernard’s office, a different door from that he entered. Rolf found himself in a hallway, with doors on either side. He opened one door, finding a boy dead on a bed, his face completely pale. Soon, he was running down hallways, opening doors, finding boys either dead or half alive. And, when he inspected them closely, they all had the same needle holes in their arms, the same chapped lips, the same pale faces.

Rolf came to the terrifying conclusion.

Bernard wasn’t a pedophile. Others were. Other’s who bought these boys.

Bernard ran a trafficking business behind the back of the church.

By the time that Rolf returned to Bernard’s office, the priest was dead. Even so, this did not stop him from putting a bullet in his head for each of the missing boys before assisting the broken-hearted parents with taking the children out of the secret passage.

Prompt #1

Well, I am back home. I know that I don't have much money so last night I treated Jo and myself to our one night of luxury a month: shrimp scampi and pie from my uncle's restaurant (both of which I made). Also, I couldn't really eat either because I discovered that I'm not really lactose intolerant; I've just had the stomach flu. Which makes sense as to why I cant really eat anything. Anyway, now I cant spend any more money except on bill and groceries. Good thing I don't eat much in general.

I don't really have much on this side right now (besides the fact that I know I have an interview at 3) so I thought I'd post this first prompt and see what you all think. Mind you, it's the first of 1001, so it's probably not that good because I haven't really practiced short stories in a while. It's also a bit long (I've limited myself between a paragraph and a page and this one is a page) so if you dont read it, I totally understand!

Prompt #1: During her first trip to Las Vegas, a woman experiences the luckiest night of her life.

Beth stared out the window of the bus as it pulled up to the Imperial Palace Casino in Las Vegas. She had been prepping for this trip for months, putting it off after her brother had come out of his coma and her mother had won the lottery. She had nothing against any of them. Of course she had wanted to spend time with her brother after he had awoke and of course she had been thrilled with her mother after winning half a million dollars and, instead of dividing the money for her children in her will, given half of it to a charity dedicated to saving goldfish and spending the other half on the most expensive cruise she could find and, while there, falling in love with the 18th wealthiest man in the world.

They were soon to be married. Of course Beth was happy for them.

But now she needed an adventure to herself. She had turned three her best friends down from coming along and, despite their complaints of her bad luck in large cities, Beth found Vegas to be nice already. The weather was the perfect temperature as she stepped down from the bus, fanny pack secured around her waist so she didn’t have to worry about her purse being stolen. She could see lights flashing from all the other hotels and casinos and thought that if she could get lucky in one, just one, she would never complain about her mother’s half a half-million give away again.

As she started toward the casino, there was a shout of “hey! Stop!” and Beth saw a man running with a woman’s purse, the woman pursuing after him. People just ignored it but, as he came running by Beth, she rammed her shoulder into his, knocking him flat on his back and dazed for a couple of seconds. The woman approached, looking grateful, and thanked Beth for saving her bag. As Beth was about to leave, the woman stopped her, digging in her bag and pulling out a ticket. “I know it will start any minute but I’d like you to come.” Beth looked down at the ticket to see it was a back stage pass to the show Excalibur. Although she had never really read any stories about King Arthur, she couldn’t pass up a dinner show.

She had time before the show to stop into one casino. She played a few rounds of blackjack and, then bored with it, stuck a quarter in a slot machine and… BING BING BING! She suddenly had millions of quarters pouring out of the machine for her. A crowd gathered as she tried to gather the quarters up and a handsome man offered her a bag to put them in. “Lucky girl,” he told her before winking and walking away.

By the time that she had to be at the show, Beth had to race there from standing and allowing someone to count and cash all of her quarters. A million dollars! She flushed just from the thought of it as she ran past casinos to find Excalibur. Once inside, she was seated right in front. Lancelot came to visit her, thanking her for saving Guinevere earlier, which was who the nice woman with the purse turned out to be. After the show, she was taken behind stage to meet the whole cast, introduced to her personally by Guinevere.

Yes, it was the luckiest night of her life. She would never live to forget or regret it.

My Idea

So, I mentioned that I was extremely inspired by the movie Julie & Julia. I've been thinking of a project that I could work on that was both long term and short term and I finally found the solution to it.

The book: The Writer's Book of Matches: 1,001 Prompts to Ignite Your Fiction

By: The staff of fresh boiled peanuts, a literary journal (published by Writer's Digest so it's ok to use)

The goal: write on a prompt a day and post it here.

I'll, of course, update you all on my life as well. I just thought it would be a good idea to do some fiction writing a day to kind of spark my brain so I could get a jump start on working on my novel every morning. I used to write every day but, of course, school and life has kind of made me lose that good habit and gain a bad one. So, this is my challenge.

This process will probably begin on Tuesday since I have to drive home tomorrow from my aunt/uncle's house and will be physically/mentally exhausted by the time I get home.

I hope my daily prompts entertain you all!

Intolerant

This is my last real day at my aunt and uncle's house and it is yet another day where I wake up with some crazy adventure due to Mary and Zac.

This morning, I was attempting to stay asleep with loud voices coming from Mary's bedroom (or loud voice because Zac talks like he's standing in the middle of a concert at 8 in the morning) when I hear this:
Zac: And then you can work at daddy's restaurant and make a lots of money and buy tons of cars and...
So I got up, not bothering to put my glasses on, and padded over to Mary's bedroom. Zac looked up at me and I had the inclination that he probably looked a bit worried but I couldn't see. They forget that I've been sleeping in the living room for the past two weeks.
Me: Zachary, are you telling Mary to work at daddy's restaurant?
Zac (in his matter of fact way): Well, Mary gave me her money and I told her that if she wanted to make more money, she could...
Me: You took Mary's money again?
Zac: She gave it to me.
Mary: I gave it to him.
Me: Why?
Silence.
Me: Ok, Zac, you need to give Mary back her money. And you need to earn your own money, not trick your sister into giving her money to you. That's bad. Understand that?
Zac: Well, she... she wanted a car so I told her that if she gave me her money I...
Me: No. You need to give her money back to her now.
Mary (wailing): he doesn't have it with him!!!!
Me: Do you know where the money is? Good. Go get it.
He returns with it.
Me: Ok, now, tell me again why Mary should work at daddy's restaurant?
Zac (cautiously now): Well... I was telling her that... if she wanted to make more money...
Me: Zac, she's FIVE. She wont be working at daddy's restaurant for a long time!
Zac (refuses to look at me even though I asked him to): Yea.......
Me: Ok, well, you need to let Mary buy her own cars and you need to earn your own money. Mary, you need to put that money away.
Mary: Well, the bottom of my flamingo bank is gone and...
Me: I already told you that I would put tape on the bottom of it.
Mary: Well, if we put paper AND tape then...

And hence, my morning went forth in the same type of way. I'm happy and sad that I'm leaving these two. Happy that I will be able to sleep in when I get home but sad that I'll miss putting these blog posts up for all of you to read.

On the flip side of this, I've discovered that I am lactose intolerant. This started when I moved up north and Jo and I visited Baskin Robbins (because we didn't have one where i used to live and it was my favorite ice cream place as a kid) and I started getting naucious from the ice cream. I bought some lactose pills and they seem to help a little but not that much. Especially this morning, when I didn't take a pill to see how milk and cereal would affect me and I feel sick. So it looks like my newest adventure is finding calcium that isn't in dairy products. Which sucks because I am a major fan of cheese. Oh well... :(

Questions and Blogs

How do you explain to a 5-year-old what you don't even hardly understand yourself?

Luckily, to my aunt and myself, my two eldest cousins don't remember my father at all. Zach doesn't remember that dad focused in on him whenever we came to family events. Mary doesn't remember... well, anything, because when dad was around, she was 2 or 3. So, because of this, the kids never have really asked any questions about where Uncle Dan is, since Aunt Ree and Kel and myself come to visit all the time.

So I didn't really expect it when Mary asked me today about why my dad isn't around. My aunt and I had been talking about how the kids are lucky that they dont remember dad and that, if they do, the only memories they have of him are good ones because he loved little kids (because he could relate to them?) but couldn't handle young adults (because we weren't full adults or something... I don't know why) when the conversation went like this:
Mary: So, then your dad turned bad?
Me: Well, he's in a lot of pain and he's not married to Aunt Ree anymore and doesn't enjoy life.
Mary: Is that why he turned bad?
Me: That's the basics.
Mary: So... if he met me... if he met me...
Me: He would like you, Mary.
Mary: Because I'm little?
Me: Yes. He liked little kids your age.
Mary: But... he's your dad.
And at that point, I was saved by two of the kids friends coming over and not having to explain any more. Because how do you explain to a 5-year-old why you have a "bad dad" or why he isn't married to your mother anymore?


On the flip side of things, I went with mom, my aunt, and my aunt's sister last night to see Julie & Julia, which, if you don't know, is about a woman named Julie who tries every single recipe in Julia Childs' cookbooks (all 500-something of them) and blogs about it. It was a wonderful movie, funny and sad all at the same time, with Meryl Streep playing the fumbly Julia Childs and Amy Adams playing Julie. I would definintely go and see it again. (That is, if I had to money to go see movies more than once.) I, however, am saving up my money to see The Time Traveller's Wife, which should be a good movie if it made me cry in the preview (or that could have just been hormones - you never know 'cause I'm a girl).


Julie & Julia got me to thinking that I needed a project. Short term goals, Julie said, which is why she was doing the daily blog after ever single recipe. I have my goal of finishing draft 2 outline by October 2, I know this, but a daily goal of something else would be nice. So I'm on the search.

You just wait.

On Writing and Conferences

I hate getting geared up and ready to go and then having to halt without even beginning.

That's how I feel about my writing at the moment. The conference is less that 2 months away and I have promised my self that I would finished my 2nd draft outline by the time that I got there. If not started my second draft already. However, like some brick thrown at my head, I am in need of inspiration.

Oddly enough, this is partially why I am going to the conference. Inspiration. And also to make my second draft sound amazingly fantastic so I dont have to do too much with my 3rd draft. (I don't know how many drafts my novel will take before I am satisfied with sending it to a publishing company.)

If I was 8 again, writing my stories for the first time (I began writing in 3rd grade and haven't stopped since), then I would consider taking my characters aside and having a sit down (or slap down) with them. I would tell Jacob to be more stubborn, Tristen to figure out what was going on, and Ellion to move it a long. But, unfortunately, they wouldn't listen to me. Especially Jacob, since he's been part of my character collection since I was in 4th grade and has not left me since.

My block could be partially due to the fact that I'm at my aunt and uncles, dealing with a screaming 5 and 7 year old when I'm not working at my uncle's restaurant. But that's no excuse! So I will slap myself on the hand and try to finish a chapter outline today.

Speaking of the conference, I had lunch with my grandfather yesterday, who found out that I don't have two cents to keep myself going (which is why I am here, working for my uncle, 5 hours away from my beautiful apartment, my adorable gecko, and my boyfriend). He started asking me all these questions about the conference, like "would it help the writing of your novel" and "what kinds of classes are you taking." Suddenly, before I knew it, he was giving me the money that I needed for the conference, telling me that I deserved it. (Yes... well... I am getting published in September, so I agree with that statement.)

So thank you grandpa for all of your help! I am now even more excited to go since I have the funds to pay the fees!

Not My Biggest Fear But Coming In Second Place

I am that girl.

I am that girl who is afraid of marriage.

I watched my parent's marriage crumble into a pile of rubbish. Truthfully, it was never really a marriage of love, more of duty. But, never-the-less, I watched it fall apart, every last piece of it. And I was glad of it, too. By the time it ended, I wanted it to end. I wanted my father to leave my house so badly that it made me miserable in every aspect in my life. I went to school to escape home and went to work to escape school but nothing seemed to work.

And when it was over, when he finally left, it still wasn't over. The anger was still there, the hatred for my mother and my sister that my father constantly poured upon me. I was surrounded by his desire to do nothing more but make our lives a living hell (even though we walked on eggshells the last 6 months before he left anyway) by tell us (my sister and I ) how he was going to sue the hell out of my mother because she was asking for money she shouldn't have been asking for (but he's lying).

I am afraid of marriage because the divorce happened more that 2 years ago and they are still going through it. My dad is still trying to sue my mother for all of what she's worth and harrassing her to no end. And I still hear about it, am still affected by, still am angered by it. I am concerned by my father's threats to hurt my mother, frustrated by his boasts of having some 26-year-old Russian girlfriend, gladdened that she dumped him (he's practically 62), angered that he payed her entire Master's degree in Russia and refuses to help my sister in college.

I know that my father is one men in millions. I know that the drugs he has used have screwed him up over the years. I know that he has screwed himself up over the years as well, such as having back surgery and taking a 2 mile walk two days after the surgery. I forgive him for what he has done to his family.

I, however, do not love him. I will never again love him. He does not deserve my love or my sister's love.

All this is why I am that girl who fears marriage.

Now, you might be wondering why I brought this up. This isn't an issue I normally talk about in public; it is normally only discussed with my two best friends and, on an occasion, with my boyfriend, Jo. However, I bring this up because a girl who I was very close to in elementary school for 6 years has just gotten married. A girl who is about a year younger than me. To me, this means that it has started. "It" being the chain of friends that have begun to get married, which was only to be expected. I mean, I am now in my 3rd year of college, so my friends are naturally going to be begin to get married to their boyfriends. My best friend has already agreed that her boyfriend now only has to propose before they move to the next step.

So it's been on my mind.

I am that girl who is afraid of marriage.

Yes. That one.