Ink Soul Laid Bare

Silence

2010-07-24T12:53:00.000-07:00

I've never had a female roommate besides my sister.

I've never had to deal with liking the same boy or being the same age or, generally, hanging out with the same friends, all while living in the same place. My sister and I have always just had sister issues, like fighting over the hair-dryer or trying to convince mom that we're the one who's right in the argument.

However, in the past two weeks, my world had come crashing down with the things that I've never had actually happening to me.

I met my current roommate back in March, during all the commotion of the Humans vs. Zombies game. She and I were both moderators and we both happened to be looking for a roommate around the same general time period. We've spent the past couple of months getting to know one another as we prepared to move in together at the end of May. And, in those months, we discovered we had a lot in common.

The primary thing that we both had in common was, of course, that we both were crushing on the same guy: the head moderator of the HvZ game. I knew that she liked him long before I had even met him so I did my best to stay away, only keeping a friend attachment. However, over the past few months, he and I have grown closer and I have been unable to keep those feelings as just friends. I was upfront and honest with her from the beginning about my feelings and I actively tried to pursue other guys in the hope that the feelings would go away. However, despite my best efforts, nothing has worked.

Last Wednesday, my roommate confronted me, asking me again for the zillionth time if I had feelings for the guy. When I said yes, she followed it up with the inquiry if I thought anything might happen. If she had asked me months ago, I would have said no. However, now, that's not quite the case. When I said that it was possible, she did something completely unexpected -- she stopped speaking to me. Not only that, but she hid in her bedroom, only coming out when I wasn't around.

I have been tormented with this, trying to figure out if I'm in the wrong or the right for telling her the truth as I knew it to be. On one hand, I did try extremely hard to do good by her and not like the guy; on the other hand, it's not a crime to have feelings for someone. Last Friday, I confronted her and ended up in tears after she told me that I was one of the worst things that had ever happened in her life. She has made it so that it is a crime for me to feel anything about this; feeling bad because I know that I hurt her is completely out of the question. I'm just supposed to be the monster who committed all of these crimes...

All I know is that I just want all of this fixed. Walking on egg-shells like this is no way to live. I'm tired of her hiding from me in her room... and I cant believe that it's been a full week since she really spoke to me. A full week when all that she has done has hid from me, hoping that we wont see one another.

Having a roommate is HARD in all of this silence.

It's Been A While...

2010-07-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

But Internet, I have returned.

The past couple months have been rough ones for me. Dealing with the break-up, dealing with the after-math of the break-up, dealing with school and the end of the school year... And then, of course, there was this semester's version of Humans vs. Zombies, which I helped to run...

And now it's summer. I've been in and out of jobs, doing the college student thing, living off of mac and cheese, top ramen, and pepsi. My amazing grandparents gave me a chunk of money that's currently helping me live.

And then, of course, I got a job editing.

I couldn't believe it when I found it. A lady just needing her PhD dissertation edited. A lady who was willing to pay me several hundred to edit said dissertation. Do I want to have this kind of job every month in order to pay my bills? HECK YES. Despite the large amount of work, it's a job I know I'm good at.

So, Internet, that's all I've really been up to. Editing is taking up part of my day, my friends take up the other part. I'm here, I'm living, I'm eating, I'm breathing, I'm loving life. I'm planning for trips that I'll be taking in the future (one to Vegas at the end of August to visit my best friend and one to LA in November with all of my friends in order to go to a convention). And I'm getting ready to go back to Chico State in the fall.

I cant wait for school to start.

Catch you soon, Internet.

Changes

2010-03-17T15:34:00.000-07:00

Last week, the boyfriend and I split up for good. We didn't have a fight. Nor are we angry with one another. We just weren't right for each other. So, in the midst of all of the craziness and lonelyness that I've been dealing with the past couple of weeks, I've made a decision.

I'm making some changes to this blog.

I thought about stopping the blog entirely, because writing about my life is just too difficult right now. But then I thought that I could put some of my writing on here. I don't want to kill this blog entirely. Just make my life a little less prominent in it.

So here's what I'm going to do: every day of the week is going to have a different theme.

Monday: Journaling Day

Tuesday: Short Story Day

Wednesday: Photo Day

Thursday: Poem Day

Friday: Journaling Day

Hopefully this will help me right now in the midst of all that I'm going through. It'll all begin on Monday.

Keep me in your prayers.

Obesity Affects All

2010-03-08T13:00:00.000-08:00

I'm starving my gecko.

Before you call animal control and get all animal rights crazy on me, let me explain.

Esther is fat. She is a really fat gecko. I mentioned this several months ago, I know, when the boyfriend and I decided to take her to the vet to get her a check up and he made us very aware of how fat she was. We started feeding her less, we exercised her a little more, but nothing really helped. She stayed ridiculously obese.

Then, about two weeks ago, Esther stopped eating completely. I wasn't too worried at first, because adult leopard geckos don't eat all that often. However, after about a week of her refusing food and her stomach becoming unusually bloated, I decided to take her to some reptile specialists to see if we could figure out what exactly was wrong with her.

This is where her obesity comes in.

Without giving anyone too many gruesome details of the reptile visit, it turns out that Esther is so fat that her kidneys have begun to fail. She hadn't been able to go to the bathroom and her little tummy had gotten so full that she was refusing food because she couldn't fit anything else inside of her. Who knew that geckos could have the same kind of organ problems as humans do? Also, it appears that there's a little unfertilized egg in her belly as well, which means she'll probably be popping out a little egg in the next week or so.

The reptile specialists instructed me to let Esther survive off her own fat for another week and then to begin feeding her the bare minimum so that she could slim down. She also has been exercised a lot more. Poor thing... if she doesn't start slimming down now, she's going to start having even more problems. But they told me that over-feeding her is better than under-feeding her, so I shouldn't feel too bad. They said they don't usually see many fat geckos like Esther because people usually don't take that good of care of their lizards, especially college students, which really makes me frustrated because students shouldn't get a pet if they're not going to be responsible about it.

So here's Esther as of today. She's still quite chubby but we're hoping that she'll begin losing weight soon so that her organs will go back to being normal. I can guarantee that she's not supposed to be this fat... but at least she can still pick her little belly up off the ground.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Inspiring

2010-02-22T23:51:00.000-08:00

I know I have not posted for about a week. This is for a number of reasons. First, I have been trying to get used to the medication that I'm on. The nausea and insomnia have gone away but have been replaced with me getting tired a little more easily, so I have to try to get as much sleep as possible. Second, I'm not quite sure what to say about my situation. I'm going to therapy, I'm taking depression medication, and the people who are close to me in my life reacted both positively and negatively to this. One of my best friends strongly disapproves of my actions, which really only makes this harder. My other best friend is supportive as she can be while living hundreds of miles away.

But I'm tired of talking about my situation.

Today, I want to post something that very much touched my heart when I read it. I've been taking a class on C.S. Lewis and Tolkien at the college and this week we read from Lewis' Mere Christianity. I've been interested in reading this for quite a while because of Lewis' beginnings as an atheist and I've been curious to know why it is that Lewis decided to convert to Christianity.

One passage particularly struck me today as I was answering some questions for a homework assignment and I thought I would share it with all of you. This exerpt is from the very end of Chapter One.

"And, of course, that raises a very big question. If a good God made the world why has it gone wrong? And for many years I simply refused to listen to the Christian answers to this question, because I kept on feeling 'whatever you say, and however clever your arguments are, isn't it much simpler and easier to say that the world was not made by any intelligent power? Aren't all your arguments simply a complicated attempted to avoid the obvious?' But then that threw me back into another difficulty.

"My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such violent reaction against it? A man feels wet when he falls into water, because man is not a water animal: a fish would not feel wet. Of course I could have given up my idea of justice by saying it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too - for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my fantasies. Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist - in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless - I found I was force to assume that one part of reality - namely my idea of justice - was full of sense. Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be a word without meaning."

Wobbly

2010-02-15T09:46:00.000-08:00

I'm having a really difficult time standing on my own two feet right now.

First and foremost, it's because I started anti-depressant medication on Friday. Zoloft. Fun freakin' stuff. The doctor warned me that there would be some side effects but that they would wear off in a week or so. I shrugged and told her I could deal with it. I took the pill Friday evening. Then the nausea started. The nausea that made my stomach unstable and made me feel uncomfortable when I ate. But I could deal with the nausea if that's all that it was. However, something else hit me that I didn't expect: insomnia. Friday night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind a whir because it was so tired but I laid there, not being able to fall into a proper state of sleep. Saturday night and Sunday night were the same.

Secondly, I'm so tired that walking around is totally exhausting right now. If you don't dream, if you skip your REM cycle, you're launched into the totally exhausted state that I am in right now. This is not a fun state to be in, by the way.

I know that many people have mixed feeling about me taking anti-depressants. I have mixed feelings about it, too. I initially refused taking them 3 years ago but now, especially with a history of depression and drug-related problems on my father's side, taking them seems more of the right thing to do. And I know everyone's just concerned about how my body is going to handle it. How I'm going to handle it.

But, currently being so tired that I can barely type, all I can tell you is that I'm trying to deal the best way I can.

50 Things You Probably Didn’t Know About Me:

2010-02-13T13:29:00.000-08:00

1. I have had moderate chronic depression for approximately 3 years. Actually, I didn’t technically “know” this about myself until today. I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me, though, since I basically know how and when it began.

2. I’m sure the reason why it’s considered “moderate” is only because I have never wanted to kill myself.

3. I despise all forms of mood-altering medication, including the majority of all painkillers (except Advil, which is my BFF). It is for that reason that I refused treatment when my depression began 3 years ago, even though it would have helped me back then.

4. If I could have any pet in the world (and not be allergic), it would be a fennec fox. I find them absolutely adorable and their ears make me do little girly squeals inside.

5. Those iPod commercials? That’s me. Whenever I listen to music from my iPod, I feel compelled to break out in crazy dance moves or drum along with the band I’m listening to. Unfortunately, when I listen to my iPod, I tend to be around a somewhat large number of people who might find it odd for a girl to break out and dance without any warning.

6. I played the xylophone in my high school band for about 2 years. It was the best experience of my life.

7. I love Disneyland. I would prefer going there than… pretty much any other theme park. This does not include California Adventures, although “Soaring Over California” is one of the best rides ever.
8. I have a pair of combat boots, thanks to the help of my sister. I have yet to get the guts up to wear them.

9. I’ve been stabbed with a pencil twice, once in my chest (when I ran into a wall with a freshly sharpened #2 pencil) and once in my foot (when I was running through a classroom in 5th grade.) I had to get a tetanus shot the second time.

10. I don’t use pencils if I can help it. I write everything in pen and religiously carry around a bottle of whiteout with me. Eraser pens are ridiculous.

11. Eggs disgust me. I don’t mind them being in desserts (since they are an essential baking product) but I cannot stand anything predominantly eggy. Such as an omelet. Boiled eggs are ok.

12. I listen to the soundtracks from Glee to put me in a good mood.

13. I cannot write if my nails are painted. My father didn’t believe when I told him this and forced me to get a manicure. I picked all the paint off in about 48 hours and was able to pick my pen up again.

14. I don’t like ice cream. This bugs my aunt during family gatherings because ice cream is the easiest dessert to get. Apparently “everyone” likes it.

15. I’m afraid of always being seen as “the hardware girl.”

16. My new nickname at the newspaper is “Hasselhoffman.”

17. I’ve never broken a bone but I’ve split my chin open and had to be taken to the hospital for stitches. And I didn’t shed a single tear while the stitches were done.

18. I still watch Lost. I have watched it every week since it started and, even though people make fun of me, I am proud for sticking with it.

19. I adore soap opera shows that aren’t exactly defined as a soap opera. “Grey’s Anatomy” is one. “Ugly Betty” is another.

20. I gained my allergies to cats when I was about 10. No one’s sure how I grew into allergies when we’ve had cats my entire life.

21. I also gained sports asthma freshman year of high school after playing soccer for about 6 years.

22. If you use “really” and “a lot” in the same sentence, I will find out where you live and beat you up.

23. I don’t have a favorite number. I don’t know why people have one.

24. “The Emperor’s New Groove” is my favorite movie ever. And I don’t own it on DVD.

25. I don’t know what I would do without my cell phone.

26. In preschool, a little boy wanted to give me a box of chocolates on Valentines Day. My dad had a fit.

27. I was dumped the first time in 3rd grade by a boy who played the piano. I should have known I wouldn’t end up with a musician.

28. My favorite food is sushi. The shapes macaroni and cheese comes in a close second.

29. I cannot stand drinking any kind of liqueur straight.

30. I hate scary movies. Unless they’re about zombies.

31. The only cat to which I am not allergic (oddly enough) is a deaf cat named Helen, who happens to belong to a good friend of mine. I cuddle Helen at least once a week.

32. The first concert I ever went to was to see James Taylor in Bakersfield with my mom. We had the best seats in the stadium.

33. I had braces for 6 years and had to beg my orthodontist to take them off before my senior graduation. I got them off the day before.

34. When I was younger, everyone thought my sister and I were twins. Now, we don’t look anything alike and everyone’s convinced that SHE is the older one. Pshaw.

35. I think buying a gift for a guy is impossible. Girls are easy. Jewelry.

36. My favorite cereal in the whole world is Berry Berry Kix. But they no longer exist.

37. I cannot fall asleep if my bedroom door is open. The light from Esther’s tank shines in and keeps me awake.

38. I have an irrational fear of being “burglared.” I will sometimes check the door to see if it’s locked 2 or 3 times before I can safely fall asleep.

39. I enjoy writing by hand more than typing on a computer but typing is a little more convenient.

40. I cannot do any homework on the weekend unless I’ve had a shower first.

41. When making cookie dough, I have to force myself to keep going after putting together the vanilla, brown sugar, white sugar, and butter or else I will eat it all.

42. I wont eat cooked fish.

43. On a regular basis, I long for a good steak. I maybe eat one about once a year.

44. I would spend obscene amounts of money on my mother if she would let me.

45. If I could, I would drop everything and go help out in Haiti right now.

46. Only being enrolled in technically 3 classes makes me feel like I’m not pushing myself hard enough.

47. It is possible I am causing my own depression.

48. Although my favorite soda is Pepsi, I would spend quite a bit of money on Goose Island Rootbeer, which I had for the first time in Chicago.

49. I will watch anything with Nathan Fillion in it or if Joss Whedon directs it.

50. Although my favorite color is lavender, I love the way blue and brown look together.

2010-02-11T09:01:00.000-08:00

I have really been struggling with what to say on here.

Every day this week, I've logged onto my computer and sat, staring at this blog, wanting to write something. But the words just haven't been coming. "My life just isn't that entertaining," I think to myself. But I know that isn't it. I know that there's a reason why I never feel excited to share anything or have anything to share.

The lows have been very low. There haven't been any highs. My highest point is when I feel in the middle and, right now, just getting there feels great. I feel as if I'm clinging on to everything that I know just to stay in that middle ground and, fortunately, it's leading me back to a place that I haven't been in a little while.

Church.

Since the depressing really sat in at the beginning of December, I've been avoiding church. Part of me wanted to just go home and see my pastor back home and part of me was afraid. Afraid that this whole depression thing wouldn't get resolved and afraid that God wasn't helping me what-so-ever with anything. However, when the school year started back up, a friend of mine told me she really wanted to get back into church again and the three of us (my friend, the boyfriend, and I) went to a church together last week. My friend had heard good things about this church and, as it turns out, the church happened to be very much like mine from back home. When I came home that day, I felt encouraged to go again.

On Tuesday, my friend and I attended the ZOE (which means "life") college group meeting. Being with her was probably the best solution to going to a new place where I didn't know a single person... especially because we both felt that way. I'm pretty sure that was the first time I have felt that uplifted in a long time and it really just spoke to me that I needed to be there, to go to church and attend the college group and even go to the Thursday night women's bible study.

I think I'm taking a step in the right direction but I know that I'm still depressed. I know that there's still something wrong with me, something that I can't just fix with a snap of my fingers. But... with a friend like the one I have, I think I can move towards the beginnings of fixing things.

I try to always end my blog on a positive note. But... this time I have to say that I'm really not positive. I'm not hopeful. I'm barely hanging on to whatever I have left in me.

So pray.

Scribblings from the Black Hole

2010-02-04T17:27:00.000-08:00

I think the hardest part is wanting to feel normal and never actually getting there.

I envy myself on the days when I don't feel anything. Because, obviously, when I don't feel anything, it means that I don't feel depressed. Or sad. Or angry. Or holding on to something negative that I can't quite identify but which throws me off of feeling like a normal person. Not feeling anything feels good to me. When I'm sitting down and don't have to sigh to try and release all the tension built up inside of me that came from somewhere... and I'm not always sure where... that's really nice.

I'm depressed. I'm imbalanced. I know it. I'm working on it.

I went to my first round of therapy last Friday. For those of you who have arrived at my blog late, here are a couple things you should know:

1. I am severely depressed and have been since my parent's divorce. However, I am normally able to cover it up with schoolwork, since I am a perfectionist. This winter break, 5 weeks of doing nothing, determined that I need to go to therapy again (yes, this is my second time since the divorce) and finally work through my feelings about that man that's supposedly my father and my depression.

2. I know my therapist. He was my Drugs in Our Society instructor and I'm convinced that the only reason why I was in that major (Health Education) for a semester (before settling with journalism) and why I took that class was so God could have me meet him. He is a very kind man and the fact that I know him makes talking to him 100 times easier, although he doesn't necessarily think so.

So, my therapist and I sat down Friday to begin things. I spent the first half-an-hour talking about my week and when he said, "I wouldn't give a teacher that much power," it began. After much discussing, we settled on a couple of things to work on.
1. My perfectionist nature — why I kick my butt to get straight A's when I know I don't need to.
2. My depression — the fact that it didn't begin due to my parent's divorce
3. My crying — I do it whenever I have an overabundance of any emotion

None of these I can work on alone. I should probably work on my anger as well, but I'm sure that, with time, working through the depression will lessen the anger.

What's really not helping me this week is the unnecessary drama that I've been going through. One of my goals was to stay away from all the dramatic stuff this semester at the newspaper... but it seems to have followed me out of it. It really makes me sad to be in any kind of rift with any of my friends, especially since I'm new here and still don't have that many friend.

But I'll keep working through it, the stress, the drama, the depression.

There's got to be a light out of this hole somewhere.

And Now Part 2 of the Dramatic Life of Megan...

2010-01-27T22:27:00.000-08:00

And I really thought things couldn't get any worse.

I was wrong. Today got worse, much worse. So much that I am now a broken being and still in shock from the day's events. When I say broken, I mean that my entire ego, my confidence in editing, my excitement to be in this major was absolutely shattered. In about... 10 minutes.

It all started when I finally got a hold of the department chair. I had spent all day long trying to catch him between meetings and finally, around 1:30, I was able to catch his attention for. Earlier today, I was shaking up a storm when I was supposed to go and see him (but he was in a meeting), so by the time that I did speak with him, I was more determined to just get the whole thing over with.

The conversation started out well enough. I told him about myself, that I had my AA in English and that I was a transfer student. He even joked with me about having started out as an English major himself. Then it began. I explained why I was there and my purpose for speaking with him, even though my adviser and the professor had already spoken with him. He told me that since the copy editing class did have a prerequisite, I would have to wait to take it. I would have easily agreed with him and left at that point, but he felt that he had to continue. He felt compelled to inform me that, just because I had my AA in English, it might mean that I was a good proofer but it definitely didn't mean that I was a good copy editor. He said that if he had the option, he would not have hired me at the newspaper last semester and insinuated that he probably wouldn't have hired me this semester either. He also told me that he was giving his copy editing students a quiz the next day and he was positive that I would fail it.

I left his office, devistated.

The current chief copy did her best to cheer me up, but I still don't really feel better. I feel broken. She assured me that there was a reason why she has me as the lead section copy editor. But I still feel broken.

So, about an hour later, I finally got a hold of my adviser. The adviser who had told me that he would take care of it. The adviser that never contacted me. As soon as I saw him, I told him what the department chair had said. I expected him, like always, to be sympathetic and on my side. However, instead, he pulled me aside and began to speak to me very quietly. He told me that the entire thing wouldn't have blown out of hand if I hadn't been late to the copy editing class in the first place. He BLAMED me for the whole thing. He told me that once I had let the instructor know, that once the instructor emailed the department head, everything had blown up. He basically blamed me.

After discussing it with many friends, I've come to the conclusion that I have landed in the middle of a tiff between two full grown men. I realize that this argument cannot be about me. I haven't done anything wrong. All that I did was tell the truth. I told the truth that I was in a class that I technically wasn't supposed to be in. It may have blown up on me, but I fought and lost. I had a man break me into a million pieces simply because he was frustrated that my adviser had told me to sign up for the class. Taking it out on me was wrong and I'm still broken and frustrated by it. However, I know that he probably didn't mean it.

Still... it'll take me a while to pick up the pieces.

And Now Part 1 of the Dramatic Life of Megan...

2010-01-26T23:08:00.000-08:00

I am convinced this day could not get any worse. And yes, right now, I look very much like this:

It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.

However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.

JOLLY DAY.

I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?

I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"

Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.

Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.

Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...

Barely Hanging On

2010-01-26T00:03:00.000-08:00

I'm beginning to feel like the beginning of my semesters are going to start the same way over and over and over. Last semester, I had a problem with my legs. This semester, I have a cold that won't go away.

Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.

That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.

And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.

I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.

I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.

Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...

Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.

Here We Go Again

2010-01-21T11:53:00.000-08:00

I have to start therapy a week from this Friday and I have no idea if I'm prepared for it or not.

I don't know what to say about my dad or even where to begin. He haunts my dreams sometimes, always yelling about something, and I wake just wishing that he was gone. I hate wishing someone to just be gone from my life but it's true. What hurts so much is to be starting this again, to be telling the same stories all over again, to be reliving some of the same memories all over again. With my friends and my family... they know what he did. They know what he did to hurt me and my family. They know all the reasons why I despise the man with every last bone in my body. They know all the horrible things that he's done and said to make me wish he was on another planet. They know why I talk about how I don't really have a dad.

But I do have a dad and I have to talk about him next Friday. I have to talk about his verbal abusive attitude and his hate for everything in the world, and how he would treat everyone in my family horribly and say how wonderful his daughter, Megan, was. I have to talk about how everyone else outside my family couldn't believe me when I told them that living with him was like walking on egg-shells because "your father is such a good man and he seems to love you so much." I have to talk about what he's doing now, the lying and the toying he's doing with the lawyers.

And somehow... I have to find a solution. I have to come to terms with myself. I have to figure out a way not to hate myself so damn much... I have to figure out how to look in the mirror and see someone I'm proud of looking back, not someone who I absolutely loathe. I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change my last name until I get married someday. I have to figure out how to be happy again.

But I just dont know where to begin.

Author's Photos

2010-01-20T18:33:00.000-08:00

I was so excited to open up my email today and find that my Author Photo's from the Night of Writing Dangerously during my November NaNoWriMo experience. I'm still trying to figure out which photo is the best and which I would put on the back cover of my first novel. So, I'm going to post them all here and you can decide!

Getting Healthy

2010-01-18T21:01:00.000-08:00

Today, I tried wheat grass for the first time.

My friends from the newspaper are finally all back in town and we have been having a blast together. One of my friends (ironically, the relationship columnist for the newspaper) got engaged on New Years Eve, so we've been trying to spend as much time as we can with her before she moves to Denver in June to be with her fiance. I'm really stoked because, sometime this week, we're going to this place called The Melting Pot, which is a really fancy fondu restaurant. I'll definitely have photos to share of the experience.

One of the things that my friends and I are planning this semester is to try to get fit. I'm taking a rock climbing class at the university on Mondays and we're trying to go to the university gym for zumba (aerobic dancing) several times a week. Of course, getting healthy means eating right as well and getting healthy also means dedication. So, we're going to begin a blog about our experiences and struggles for the next 5 months. I'll link that blog to this one if anyone is curious to read it. It'll be frustrating sometimes, occasionally funny, and definitely educational.

Today's healthy experience involved trying wheat grass for the first time. Wheat grass is supposed to be a cleanser for the system. What did it taste like? Grass. But it wasn't completely horrible. Grass has a fairly decent smell and it sort of tasted the way that it smells. I don't think I'll be doing it every day but... try everything once, right?

Now... if I could get rid of this cold, I would feel ok about this whole "get fit" thing.

Sorry to all this offends...

2010-01-14T00:50:00.000-08:00

But I have to post this. My cousin posted it tonight and I agreed with it so strongly that I wanted to copy her actions.

Publishing

2010-01-11T17:17:00.000-08:00

So, I met with a very good friend today and we fell into the conversation of publishing.

I'm very close to being done with the second draft of my book. In fact, if I can just crank out these last ten chapters, I'll be able to start editing. And from there... I'm not entirely sure what I want to do. There's many options. I could try and find and agent and publish that way. I could try and send my manuscript to publishers to see if I could get it published that way. OR I could self publish.

Self publishing is beginning to have an appeal to me. Originally, years ago, I would have never consider the option. Now, it doesn't seem like the other two options are a good idea at the moment. If I self publish, I'll be able to promote the book myself, have family and friends buy it and read it, and hopefully have it start building a bit of a fan base that way. It might be a little pricey in the beginning but, hopefully, it'll start getting a little more rewarding as time goes on.

So, I'm beginning to get revved up for the new year. I'm going to try to do a chapter at least every day (if not every two days) so I can get those ten chapters done in a couple of weeks. Then I'm going to crack down on the editing. Hopefully, if everything goes well, I will have my stuff up in at least 6 months for everyone to be able to buy a hardcopy of. I want to start getting this done. I want everyone to see what I'm writing.

And I'm guessing (right now) that the only way to do that at the moment is to self-publish.

Weddings, Weddings, in the Air

2010-01-09T00:31:00.000-08:00

And in 2010... *drumroll*

So far, there are going to be 3 weddings, one friend got engaged at New Years, one other friend got engaged during Christmas break, and my best friend will probably be engaged by the end of the year.

I keep forgetting that this is the time in my life when all the weddings are supposed to begin, so all of these engagements have come as a pleasant surprise. So far, I've been invited to two weddings and, probably, a third, and spoken with a friend about her bachelorette party. And, I'll admit, I'm a little jealous of all those people who getting to start planning their big white wedding.

I wrote, a long time ago, about the fear. Yes, I am still deathly afraid of marriage. I once was the girl who thought that I would have one of those families where the parents stay together (and I wouldn't have to be going to therapy for a second time.) I mean, while the promise is there when you get married, it no longer seems to be a guarantee in America. And divorce is just horrible. My parents got divorced two years ago and things still aren't over. So why get married when there's that possibilty, right?

And yet...

It's not just the big white wedding (or, in my financial case, what will someday be a very small white wedding) or the planning or the parties. It's more of the theory that even though marriage could turn into divorce, everyone is taking that chance. And, literally, everything with a chance has the possibility of going the way you didn't want it to. Applying to college? I might not have gotten in. Taking classes? I might have failed them. Working at the student newspaper? I could have gotten fired. Or something more basic: driving a car. I could get into an accident.

I guess the real reason why I'm jealous and desire what so many of my friends are doing right now is because of the chance. They all get to take that chance, that wonderful chance, that they are putting so much effort into being good but could potentially turn out badly. I would like to take that chance. I would like to put in the effort and know what I'm going for and heading towards. I would like to someday say, "hey, I took that chance, and now, 30 years of marriage later, here we still are!"

I would like to be the exception. The good of the chance. The marriage that didn't fail.

It's big, it's black, and it's in a home near you...

2010-01-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

Today, we bring you a special announcement, straight from Megan's apartment:

My worst fear has been brought to light.

Recently, in the past couple of days, I have notice strange spots on the upper part of the wall and ceiling of my shower. A normal person (who is definitely not me) might disregard these spots but I, on the other hand, have much bigger fish to fry. And, today, upon closer inspection of these spots, my worst fears were confirmed.

The Black Mold.

I am to mold as my father is to shoes. When I was younger, my father had this rule that as soon as my sister and I would wear through the tiny piece of fabric that separates your foot from the sole of the shoe, we would have to get new shoes. Now I wait until there are holes physical appearing somewhere, mainly at the bottom (which would insinuate that, if it rained, water might leak in and soak my feet) until I get new shoes. Rubber is rubber, one piece of fabric isn't going to change that. But my father didn't care. Just as I don't care for mold. Over and over, I used to insist that my mother throw out loaves of bread where the traces of mold might appear. My mother, of course, would throw the moldy piece out, and maybe the once next to it, insisting the bread eatable. I would switch to a different lunch menu and avoid sandwiches until she pulled a new loaf from the freezer. I hate mold. I hate the idea of a living organism growing on my food. I cant stand cheese that still has that weird white moldy outside to it (and people insist that it's AGED and it tastes BETTER, but to heck with them) and the only reason why I allow myself to eat Swiss cheese is because all traces of mold are gone. Call it a character quirk or whatever you will but all I can think of is attacking that black mold. I want it GONE. I want it TO DIE.

So, needless to say, it took all of my nerves to stay in that shower this morning and finish washing the shampoo out of my hair. But, once the last of it was gone, off went the shower and out I flew, away from my biggest terror. Ignoring the fact that if I didn't get to drying my hair, it would look like a 2 year old took a bunch of hair rollers to it in odd angles, I grabbed the first thing I found in my kitchen (multi-purpose cleaner) and set about scrubbing the walls of my shower. Then... was that BROWN MOLD growing on the lip above my shower? I don't think I've ever cleaned the shower so quickly.

You think I'm weird? Black mold is TOXIC! It's a living organism, eating away the paint in your walls and, if you breathe the fumes, you could get sick. You could even DIE. And I, for one, am not about to die because of inhaling black mold. That's what the 60's and 70's were all about.

So now I wait, under cover of darkness, a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner in my hand. It's there. It could be waiting for its next wave of attack. This could just be the beginning.

And I want to be ready.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Note: I just want to let everyone know that I have made an appointment for therapy. I start two Fridays from now and I'm nervous. But I'm going.

All I need now is an airship...

2010-01-02T17:47:00.000-08:00

And maybe a bodice.

Steamcon is in November this year and the boyfriend and I have made it our goal to go. I've never seen Seattle and I've always wanted to go, see the Space Needle and the original Starbucks. Now we have a reason to go. Since Steamcon is so inexpensive, all our expenses will go into driving up there and staying for a couple of days. Yay!

Anyway, I'm stoked outta my head today because I FINALLY got my beautiful steampunk skirt in the mail. It's taken several weeks to get here and I wasted no time trying it on. Of course, this isn't the final project but it's a good start! I'm wearing: steampunk aviator goggles, Jayne Cobb beanie (from the show "Firefly"), brown tanktop, beige steamwheel skirt.

The Book

2009-12-31T10:26:00.000-08:00

I am published.

This short blog entry today, before the New Year begins, is to let you know that I am officially published. Two of my short stories, of which I am both proud, have been published in a book. The book is a science book, an astronomy book, full of professional papers and recounts done by professional astronomers. Technically, it is mostly the boyfriend's book since he's one of the three editors on the book. Most of the astronomers in the book I've met and adore. They were all very sweet to let me publish two of my short science fiction stories in their astronomy book: "The Demotion of Pluto" and "Titan: Mission Gone BOOM!"

If you're interested in buying a book, go to the www.CollinsFoundationPress.org and look for the book entitled Small Telescope and Astronomical Research. You can order it straight off the website. Today, it is $19.95. As of the new year, it will be $29.95.

Please let me know if you get it! I would love to hear your thoughts on my stories. So far, I've read them in front of many professional astronomers. I'm curious to know what the public thinks as well.

Goals

2009-12-29T10:15:00.000-08:00

My dreams are vivid.

It is frightening to wake up from a dream where everything is exploding around you, where you feel like you're running in slow motion but you know that, in the reality of your dream, you are actually running quite quickly. It is frightening to see your "friends" die in the explosions, give up because they cant run anymore, even though you pull at them to hurry up, and someone ahead eventually pulls on your arm, telling you that there isn't any hope and to leave them be. It's frightening to leave them, as the explosions surround you and your ears are stunned by the sound as you run and run and run... knowing that somehow, someday, you will get to your destination, you will be safe with the few friends who didn't give up, the ones you have left.

It's frightening to wake up and think, "That's a great beginning to a story." And that's what I think whenever I wake up from dreams like that.

A friend of mine recently posted her New Years resolutions and I thought to myself "What are mine?" They certainly have to do with writing, since I feel like I always have a million ideas bouncing around in my head (like the dream, for example). So, I sat down and thought about it and here's what I came up with:

1. I will get straight A's this semester. I feel like I really let myself down this last semester. Even though I moved and was in a new location, a new home, a new situation, a new school, I feel like I should have gotten an A in classes that I got a B. So, I'm determined to bring my GPA back up.

2. I will go to therapy and tell the truth. This one is pretty self-explanatory. I want to get fixed.

3. I will finish the second draft of my novel and edit it, not rewrite it. I'm a freak. Re-writing is in my nature. I keep thinking "what if I did that to my novel?" I need to make a decision and stick with it. So, it needs to be edited, not necessarily re-written. The re-writing can come in bits of the editing.

4. I will not let holidays get me down. Part of the whole depression thing is fighting it. This will be a hard resolution because it starts with New Years Eve, which has a whole lot of a expectation attached to it. Then we move into Valentines Day and so on and so forth. All the expectation makes me want to have the best holiday ever, better than my friends. But even if it's good, I'm still depressed about it. So I'm going to try and not be.

5. I will get published. Technically, with the boyfriend's book out, I am published. However, I want something, on my own, to be published. So I can lift my head up and smile.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T11:06:00.000-08:00

...

or Happy Holidays. Whatever you prefer.

I know today was AWESOME for me!!! My sister got me the best Christmas gift EVER!

Is Santa a Socialist?

2009-12-24T16:49:00.000-08:00

This honestly scares me.

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2505663/sarah_palin_santa_claus_or_comrade_pg2.html?cat=60

I checked this out on Snopes.com to see if it was true and couldn't find any info against it. It honestly scares me that A) Sarah Palin would assume that Jewish people don't know the difference between Santa Claus and Jesus and B) that Sarah Palin would say that Santa giving children presents is a bad thing.

Whatever happened to the giving holiday? Whatever happened to the spirit of Christmas? Geez...

Help

2009-12-22T23:29:00.000-08:00

I've been keeping most of this inside because I've been a bit embarressed and a little unready to tell everyone my big emotional flaws. But, when I broke down today and told my mom the truth, I decided that I better let the cat out of the bag and break it to the world. Because, really, I shouldn't be ashamed.

I'm getting therapy.

I am one messed up "young adult," if you can't already tell. I'm not quite sure who reads this besides my grandparents and maybe an uncle or aunt, but I really am one messed up person. Because when I was a teen, my dad began his tirade of emotional abuse. Because when I was a teen, I figured out that the only way I could solve things (due to my father) was to get angry. Because when I was a teen, I jumped in the middle of countless arguments, received endless griping about how horrible my mother and sister were, and cried in the corner of my bedroom, hoping that no one would find me there. Because when I was a teen, I discovered that the only way to relieve stress, anger, or any sort of emotion was to cry.

I know this sounds weird and, if you know me in person, you might think I'm a really strong personality and that I have it all together. However, that's my game face. That's what I want to be, what I spend every second trying to be.

The truth is that I am on big ball of salty wet tears. And I can't seem to turn off the hose whatever I do or try. I don't just cry when I'm sad or angry. I cry when I'm scared. I cry when I'm nervous. I cry when there is a situation that I can't control. I cry when I can't figure out my statistics homework the first time. I cry when any sort of emotion beyond happiness gets beyond the level of basic function. And, like I said, I can't turn it off. So imagine being me, going in to my boss' office to ask for a raise, and crying because I'm a little nervous about asking him...

Yea. Pretty pathetic.

But, of course, that's not the reason why I'm going into therapy. The crying is the relief, the break in the dam that helps the pressure to subside. What creates the pressure is the hatred, the pure black blinding hatred for my father and myself that I have built up inside of me that leaks through little cracks, without the crying, effecting my every day life. Making me angry in situations where I shouldn't be angry. Making me depressed when nothing is wrong. The hatred that I have for my father that I can control, which only causes me to hate myself more because I feel like I'm turning into him. The hatred that I have for myself when I look in the mirror and see something different that the person other people tell me that they see.

People tell me not to think badly of myself. They tell me just to take a deep breath and to just calm down. But that's what they don't understand. I don't know how to calm down. And since I don't know how to calm down (except to cry), I can only see myself as this angry, pitiful creature. And it makes me suffer, it makes me depressed. It makes me miserable.

So I'm going to therapy.

A Whole New Ball Game

2009-12-21T21:53:00.000-08:00

Christmas break has been going really well so far. I've spent time with my mom's family, I've seen my best friend, I found the skirt for my steampunk costume...

Christmas break has been going really well so far.

Until this evening.

I realize I'm a fairly serious person. In grade school, my friends used to tease me about my lack of sense of humor. I dealt with it, laughing along with their teasing and building up my little brick wall against them. I thought that the older I grew, the more people would understand that I take things seriously because I believe certain things out to be taken seriously. Especially break ups.

Tonight, a friend of mine texted me, letting me know that he and his girlfriend broke up. I freaked out, thinking that he needed me, but he didn't pick up when I called. When he did call me back, he was laughing because it had all been a joke. It had all been a prank.

I don't know about you, but it was no joking matter. Telling a friend that you're moving back to the coast to be closer to the ocean so you can drown yourself because you broke up with your girlfriend is not funny. Frankly, it's concerning. And I was concerned. And hurt. Hurt that a friend had played such a cruel trick.

I'm posting this as just a ramble. I don't know what I'm going to do about it all and I hope everyone who reads this learns from my experience.

What a way to celebrate the week of Christmas.

Twidiots, Part 2

2009-12-18T01:48:00.000-08:00

Ok, I just found this article and, if you were interested in my first reporting of poor Military_Mom's story, here's the conclusion to it: http://www.floridatoday.com/article/20091217/BREAKINGNEWS/91217033/1086/rss07

Please read and sympathize for this poor woman.

Twidiots?

2009-12-16T11:38:00.000-08:00

I have this kind of love/hate relationship with Twitter.

I've been off and on it for a while. Sure, it's fun to update my status every hour and make my life seem interesting but, honestly, who cares what I’m doing every second of my day? After a while, when you have absolutely nothing to update your account with except for “bored as hell” or “watching the rain,” you realize how dull your life has become.

However, I decided to give it a shot one more time, just to see what the fuss was all about. And, for about two days, I thought Twitter was cool. Then I heard about Military_Mom.

You’ve heard of those people whose life is completely surrounded with Twitter? This is Military_Mom. If you just go and look at her page, almost every minute of every day is taken up by updates and notes to her readers. She was one social mama. So, you can imagine how shocked her readers were when, about an hour after her last Twitter, she mentioned to her readers, “Please pray, my 2-year-old son fell in our pool,” which has since been removed from her page.

It has since become a controversy. Was Military_Mom Twittering when her son fell in her pool? Or was this just an instance where a rambunctious 2-year-old just fell in a pool while his mother had turned his head for a second? Readers have been leaning both ways.

I’m not sure which is it, but the woman made the call to the police about her son falling in her pool around 5:38pm on Monday, according to Florida Today. If you check on Twitter, this was only 15 minutes after her last “tweet.” It completely shakes me up. The facts are unclear but a little brutal.

Military_Mom has responded viciously to four different Tweeters, telling them “you are an ass, I was outside w/him and it took 2 sec for him to slip away, I hope U never feel this pain u ass” and “where us your heart bitch.” However, as someone who wants to agree with Military_Mom, I have to look at the hard facts that this woman has not come back with a reply against the statement that the might have been checking her Twitter or Twittering while her child was wandering around.

Losing someone, especially a child, is hard. I cannot imagine what this woman is going through, whether it is the fault of her Twittering or not. I’m trying to stay on the side of those who are praying for this woman and giving her their condolences. If I were her, I would have deleted my Twitter account by this time instead of taking the controversial Tweets off of her page. My heart goes out to this woman, whatever state she is in. Especially because I believe, unlike others on Twitter, that she would not Tweet her son was at the bottom of the pool while he was there. Maybe she really wanted prayer. I know I would.

Even so, I’m thinking harder about getting off of Twitter. If not just because the readers are so brutal about something they don’t have all the facts for.

Who would want a Web site like this to be the blame for your child’s death? I know I wouldn’t.

References:

Florida Today: http://www.floridatoday.com/comments/article/20091215/BREAKINGNEWS/91215016/Merritt-Island-toddler-drowns-in-swimming-pool

Military_Mom: http://twitter.com/Military_Mom

The undeleted Tweets: http://girlarsonist.blogspot.com/2009/12/mom-tweets-while-son-drowns.html

Conflicted Holiday

2009-12-15T22:48:00.000-08:00

Christmas is a conflicted time of year for me.

Now that I live away from home, Christmas is no longer a holiday that I begin and end with my family. It is a holiday that I join in on, a holiday that is left to childhood memories and feelings of the past. I really feel like that, until I am married and have my own family to celebrate the holidays with, Christmas has become simply a time to "remember when" and just spend time with the family I have.

Two memories dominate my mind when December decides to show her chilly face in my life. First, there's the memory that makes me look forward to Christmas. The memory of growing up in Tehachapi. The memory that reminds me of how Christmas feels. This one consists of decorations on the house, the snow covering our 2 1/2 acres of land shimmering in the moonlight, my sister and I pulling our sleds up a hill only to ride back down it again, calling after our dog who had decided to hide in the snow from us, making cat huts (instead of snowmen) out of snow for my cats (who loved them, by the way, and would hide in them as soon as we put an old towel inside that they could lie down on), hot chocolate, a roaring fire, a giant Christmas tree with presents stacked underneath it, listening to the sound of laughter as I watched my family open presents, the smell of the pancakes my mom would make every Christmas morning...

The Christmas of my childhood.

Then, there's that memory that always ruins my Christmas, that memory that makes me despise this time of year more than anything else. You probably guessed it. It's the memory of my father and the legacy that he left behind when he decided to thrash his way out of his family's life. Now, most people might be mad at me for not just saying "screw him!" and throwing this memory out, but, when it's been so deeply ingrained in my mind, it's hard to remember Christmas without remembering him. Without remembering how much he hated the holiday. Without remembering how he moaned and groaned about getting the Christmas tree every year because "it wasn't Christian" and "it's too much trouble" and "that's not what Christmas was all about." Without remembering how, on Christmas day after my sister and I had opened up all of our presents, he would ask us to give him half of the presents that we had recieved to give to the homeless shelter. Without remembering him getting mad at us when we asked him why he didn't just ask us to do that before we opened the presents, before we had seen what they had given us. Without remembering closed blinds and hiding in bedrooms and going out to see a movie with my mom and sister just so we could get the hell away from him sitting at home, being an absolute terror.

I once gave my father a Grinch tie as a Christmas gift and a joke. Now, years later, I wonder if I was predicting the future.

So, as I end finals this week and head from my university to my mom's house for Christmas, I open my book of memories and try to flip backwards through all the bad memories to my childhood in Tehachapi, when all I thought about was stockings and snow and servings of bacon, fresh from the skillet.

What memories do you carry with you at this time of year?

After Birthday Blues

2009-12-12T09:42:00.001-08:00

Last night went well. I went out with some friends from the newspaper and the boyfriend for some sushi and sake. We had a wonderful time. After, we were thinking of going to the bars; however, we decided that it was raining much to hard for that and, instead, came home for some eggnog and rum. Yum!

But the birthday is over. And even though it's pouring down rain, and I would love to be working on the end of my novel or doing this:

I, instead, have to do this:

However, I have some exciting/interesting prospects lined up that, if they fall into the right place, I might mention about winter break or even the next semester. We'll see what happens!

Happy Panda

2009-12-11T13:48:00.000-08:00

I'm 21 today! Woopee!!

Now... all the major birthdays are over with. It's sort of weird, hoping that this birthday would come and now it's halfway over.

Anyway.

Harry vs. Bella: Why Twilight Fails to Impress a Lover of Lit

2009-12-10T18:05:00.000-08:00

If Harry Potter and Bella Swan were to get into a duel, who do you think would win?

If we took into account that the spineless high schooler would inevitably call upon her handsome werewolf or animal-sucking vampire for protection, where-as the Boy-Who-Lived would simply raise his wand to the challenge, I think we would have our answer without discussion.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve been a die-hard fan of both Twilight and Harry Potter. I have read all the books and seen all the movies. I’ve heard all the opinions there really are possibly to be heard. Yet, still, I come back to the same conclusion over and over again — without fail, the Harry Potter series kicks the Twilight series out of literary consideration. After carefully considering all aspects of what makes a book appeal to an audience, and remembering that the next movie in both series comes out November 2010, I have come up with a list of reasons why fans should put down Eclipse and pick up Deathly Hallows.

1. Character development — When we meet Bella and Harry, they are two very under confident teens. Harry’s sort of a trouble-maker. Bella is so depressed after moving away from Arizona that the readers are afraid she might kill herself. As the stories progress, Bella’s attitude develops into “If I don’t have Edward, my life is over,” where-as Harry steps up to the plate, wand in hand, ready to figure his life out. Not convinced yet? By the end of book four, Bella’s selfish idea is that she will protect the vampire baby in her stomach even if it’s going to kill her, where-as Harry unselfishly goes to his inevitable death to protect the world from a very evil being.

2. Climax — Stephanie Meyer murders the idea of climax in her plotlines. At the end of Book 3, there is an epic battle with the werewolves and Cullens on one side and baby vampires on the other side. Does it feel epic? No. Mainly because Bella is too stubborn to stay home and has to be out in a tent, in the middle of the woods, freezing her fanny off with a worried Jacob and Edward, who should be fighting to protect her. On the other side, we see Harry fighting Professor Quirrell in book 1, a massive spider in 2, dementors in 3, Voldemort in 4, Death Eaters in 5, Death Eaters in 6, and a ton of people including Death Eaters and Voldemort in 7. There is always a climax. The audience never yearns for a fight scene, which is what I yearned for at the end of Meyer’s Breaking Dawn, where the Volturi show up, there’s a set up for a massive battle, and then… then… nothing.

3. Sequels — Sure, everyone publishes a book they’re not proud of, but I think I’ll take Harry’s angst, Ron’s struggle with his love for Hermione and a little drama over a finale book that made readers’ eyes widen as they say, “HUH?” Come on, Stephanie Meyer. You tiptoe around every little subject, keep your characters innocent and then your fourth book contains pedophilia, brutal sex, and a C-Section with Edward’s teeth? At least J.K. Rowling is consistent.

4. Morals — This is pretty plain and simple to me. When the Harry Potter series first came out, parents freaked out over their children reading books about witchcraft. However, I could always shut parents up with arguing that the series is an epic about the struggles of good triumphing over evil. It doesn’t tell you how to get the hair of a unicorn and mix it with toads’ eyes to make a love potion. On the other hand, I haven’t heard many complaints from mothers worrying about their children reading Twilight. This bothers me because the book teaches selfishness. She wants Edward. No, she wants Jacob. Now she wants both at once. “I don’t care about my soul as long as I can be with you.” What is this? Shouldn’t mothers be worried about their daughters running off with the first boy they meet because, “Mooooom, we’re in looooove.”

So there you have it. Megan’s perspective on these two infamous book series. Keep in mind that I did read both series, I was a die-hard fan, I saw the movies and I’m taking this all from a literary perspective.

And don’t dis on Harry Potter. That book has come a long way and I feel satisfied when I read it, unlike the disgusted, emo feeling I get from Twilight.

Steampunking It

2009-12-10T10:44:00.000-08:00

I almost had a heart attack when I found out Monday night about the Edwardian Ball that's being held in San Francisco in January.

Of course, if you didn't know already, I'm a steampunk fanatic. I really wanted to go to SteamCon in October but getting my costume together that quick is a little much for me. However, this time I'm ready, this time I've got it. I'm going with my sister and a friend first to the Edwardian World's Faire and then to the Edwardian Ball in the most beautiful red dress and (hopefully) a parasol.

The dress looks like this and is from http://www.retroscopefashions.com/images/gallery/gallery130.jpg

Anyway, it's Dead Week in school, the week before finals, and the word "dead" is taking on a new definition for me this week. First, it's definitely much colder here than it was in the bay area, where I used to live, so I actually broke out my heavy black jacket, the one I wore to Chicago for the band trip my junior year of high school and felt warm for the first time here in weeks. On the other hand, even though it's cold, the sky is a crisp blue color that you would otherwise ignore on a hot day, and, though it stings your nose, when you breathe in, you can smell every little icy scent going on around you. In a way, it brings me back to my childhood, living in the mountains of Tehachapi, in my parents' house, sitting in front of a blazing fire that my father had stoked up to be so hot, so intense, that it was impossible to stand in front of it for more than a couple of seconds without feeling overwhelmed. I missed that fireplace...

Google Has Issues

2009-12-06T10:09:00.000-08:00

This weekend, the student newspaper worked double time so that we could make up for the fact that this coming week is Dead Week. Maybe it's Dead Week for everyone else, but for me it's "you have a final on monday, your paper is due Tuesday, and you have a lot of statistics homework" week. I guess it is better, though, because I really only have 2 finals that I'm taking during the actual finals week and they're spaced evenly on Tuesday and Thursday.

What I'm really excited about is the fact that I'm turning 21 on Friday. My friends from the newspaper and I have been discussing what to do for my birthday. They, of course, want to go out to the bars, in the town where there are 10 million bars to choose from and is known for its drinking on Friday night. I, on the other hand, voted for sushi and sake, because sushi is my favorite food ever. So that's what we'll be doing on Friday. No bar scene. No getting Megan plastered. Just going out to dinner. Yay!

Anyway, since my brain is still pretty dead from all the double-time copy-editing I had to do yesterday (7 hours worth of copy-editing), I'm going to leave this post with an interesting little tidbit.

Google is weird. If you've ever searched its engines, you know that it has this habit of trying to finish whatever sentence or phrase you want to look up. So, I thought it would be interesting to look up a word and see what phrase pops up with it. The results are... kind of odd.

What
What are these strawberries doing on my nipples, I need them for the fruit salad

Why
Why is my poop green?
Why is there a dead pakistani on my couch

Those
Those who do not learn from history and are doomed to repeat it

I
i like to tape my thumbs to my hands to see what it would be like to be a dinosaur

Who
Who moved my cheese?

Try this on your own. You might spend hours trying to find something fun, like I did!

Bible Thumping Crazy Christians

2009-12-04T01:14:00.000-08:00

I am a Christian.

I'm not a flaming Christian. I'm what I would call a "quiet Christian." I share my beliefs with people who would like to listen and share their ideas and opinions back in a calm manner. When my family moved to the coast when I was in high school, I was (what people called) a "pretty crazy Christian." I called people out right on the spot, I didn't explain myself after giving the answer that I believed was right. When someone asked me if they were going to hell and told me they weren't a Christian, I stuck with the "yes, you are going to hell" and was told that I hurt a fair number of people's feelings that way. As time progressed and people stopped talked to me, I turned my tone down from an 8 to a 4, realizing that the way you approach people about Christianity should be gentle, calm, and optimistic. As much as I believe that the Bible is the way, someone else has a right to their opinion as well and it would be just of me to listen to it, even if I'm going to contradict it with another verse from the Bible.

So... when I saw this man on my campus looking exactly the way he does in this picture, claiming to preach a message of love from God... my blood boiled. And every time I look at this picture, my blood boils.

How would you like it, Christian or no, if you came upon someone like this? From this picture, what I gather is that he is pointing his finger, his mouth is open, and his eyes are narrowed. Which means... he's accusing someone of something. And that's just what he is on campus to do. I don't care what he has told everyone. His yelling and screaming and finger pointing presents a message of hate.

I'm come across this guy twice on campus, by myself, and both times I felt compelled to speak to him. The first time, he was standing on top of something, looking over the heads of students, screaming how they were all sodomites and lovers of homosexuals and how God "abhors" them all. I witness a young man from the college standing next to him, holding a sign in cardboard that read "God abhors this guy" and I listened to students laughing at guy screaming. I praised another young man who was telling the crowd that God and Jesus both love everyone and that they want to save everyone, while the preacher tried to scream over him about how they were all sinners and horrible and going to hell. I attempted to say something to him but he didn't listen to me and, I admit, my yelling up at him just blended in with the rest of the chaos.

The second time, Wednesday afternoon, I found that guy out again with an even bigger audience circling him this time, and a buddy who was holding the sign that the guy was holding the first time that I saw him. Off to the side were two young men holding cardboard signs with phrases such as "Jesus loves all!" on them, and I decided to approach them this time. I was grateful to find that they were from a Christian fraternity on campus and were trying to prove to the audience that you can preach a message without screaming, which was true because people continuously approached them, talking to them calmly, and mainly asking if they were with the two men who were yelling at the crowd. After talking to one of the guys for a while, I saw the preacher had stopped yelling so, against the boyfriend's warning earlier that day, I approached him.

I was calm. I asked him if he had a moment. I then proceeded to inquire how he thought all of this yelling was preaching a message of love, when it appeared to everyone that he was preaching hatred. He yelled at me after I had approached him quietly, inches from my face, with his horrid crooked teeth and horrid crooked breath, while I stood there quietly, looking at him quizzically. I felt the full force of his confrontation with his face so close to mine, accusing me of not being a true Christian, of not spreading the message of God. (I wanted to tell him that he reminded me of my father but I was afraid he would actually suggest my father is a good man.) Yet, never once did he open the Bible that he had been slapping around in his hand. He asked me if I had read the Gospels and seemed a little surprised when I confidently replied "yes" and wanted to add "have you?" When he went so far as to say, "What do you think your little ice cream socials and your little Bible studies can do compared to my preaching?" I actually shook my head and walked away. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to punch him in his crooked teeth and get him to stop making Christians look bad, make him stop angering Campus Crusades and the Christian fraternities and sororities. Of course, I didn't, but I wanted to. Perhaps I felt this way because the message he was spreading inspired anger and I wanted to show him anger in the form of my fist.

I later found out from another staff member at the student newspaper that the police have a record on this guy. His group travels around CSU campuses, screaming "the love of God" messages, and getting in people's faces so that someone physically assaults them. Then, they sue that person for a lot of money (claiming that they were in the campus free speech area) and they move to the next CSU. Personally, if I could, I would convict them of a hate crime.

My blood boils when I see that picture. My blood boils when I see that man.

I wonder what the police would say if a girl decked that guy in the face.

Men in History Who Got Screwed Over in Odd Ways

2009-11-30T22:29:00.000-08:00

When I was still living back home and going to junior college, I had this crazy history teacher who taught the early years of U.S. History. We'll call him Dr. K. Anyway, so Dr. K started me on this craze of loving people who had crazy things happen in their lives. Or crazy things that just happened to end their lives. Here are three of my favorites and their crazy life-altering stories:

John Smith

Everyone has heard of the famous John Smith, who came to America as a famous explorer. However, what people don't know (or what has been fairly misled by the Disney film about Pocahontas) is that he wasn't actually romantically involved with the daughter of a Native American chief. Instead, he was capture but then became friends with some Native Americans after they grew fascinated with Smith's ability to read his pocket compass (and Smith did claim that he thought Pocahontas helped him out a little bit, although he couldn't really tell because he couldn't understand the language.) Anyway, so the best part of the story is when Smith was traveling down the river with some of his men and his gunpowder pouch caught on fire. He received a very severe burn underneath the belt (if you know what I mean) and he returned to England for treatment under the belt. Poor John Smith... :(
And, of course, we all think of him like this:

But, unfortunately, he really looked like this:

Edward Braddock

This guy was a British General, who had kind of a pompous attitude that ended up getting him killed. During the French and Indian war, he had the grand idea of having approximately 1,400 of his men march to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, even though he had received word from his Native American spies that the French and the Native Americans had massed in Pittsburgh. Since Braddock didn't respect Native Americans, he naturally didn't want to listen to their report so he decided to go to Pittsburgh against the will of the spies. As you can only imagine, they all marched to Pittsburgh and 900 out of the 1,400 people got completely slaughtered by the Native Americans because the British had no idea how to fight the same way that the Native Americans did. It ended with Braddock getting shot off of 4 different horses and getting hit in the chest and dying 4 days later, after General Washington took over. Pretty depressing death, huh? It'll teach people to be less arrogant.

Rodrigo de Jerez

Our good friend Rodrigo came over to America with Columbus. When the Native Americans approached the settlers with tobacco as a welcoming gesture, Columbus thought the whole idea of smoking was completely disgusting. Rodrigo, on the other hand, became the first European to be addicted to smoking. He really liked the habit. So, thinking that he was completely brilliant, Rodrigo decided to go back to Spain to show everyone the gloriousness of tobacco. However, unfortunately, the Spanish decided that Rodrigo was possessed by the devil because he could emit smoke from his nose and mouth, so they turned him over to the Inquisition, who threw him in jail for seven years. So, poor Rodrigo was not only the first European to become addicted to smoking, he was also the first European to have to break the habit cold turkey. Poor man!

So, which one are you saddest for?

Finished

2009-11-30T09:35:00.000-08:00

I know it's been a week since I posted last but, as a college student, I've needed the break. I didn't get a break from college (far from it, actually, since I had to copy edit even after the school week was over and study for a Human Sexuality test that I can only pray that I'm going to pass) but I've mostly been working on my word count for NaNoWriMo, chugging away to get to those 50,000 words.

And yesterday, as the boyfriend and I were stuck in traffic on the 5, trying to get back to our new hometown, I got to 50,000 words and did a silly little dance in my seat. Then I promptly fell asleep for about a half an hour.

I am quite proud of myself for making it this far. I've only written 19 chapters and I have 32 chapters in this novel so I still have quite a ways to go. But, I do feel confident that, in the next month, I can finish these chapters. I'm going to keep trying to make my word count every day, the 1,667 words that seemed to loom at me whenever I would start writing. After I'm done with Draft 2, I'm definitely going to have some people edit this book of my and start in on revision, myself. Because the next step?

Editing. Revision. And trying to get it published.

Excerpt from Chapter 19:

He could still see her beautiful pale face, her auburn hair, the powerful sparkle in her lavender eyes – Detao, goddess of life. How many walks had they gone on after the earth had just been formed, the other gods staring jealously as their younger sister chose to converse regularly with him, lord of all dragons? How many years had it taken him to ask her for the one thing that might forever change their destinies? He would never forget nor forgive her for that day. Her long green dress flowing gently behind her as she approached him on the beach had rendered him speechless, as he had never been before in her presence. He had bowed his head deeply and made the request, much harder than he had expected even though it had only been a few simple words… but nothing could have prepared him for the pain that was to follow. Occasionally he could still feel traces of it, the pain of one bodily shape – having been born and meant to fulfill that original shape – shifting into another one, a smaller one, more restricting. But even then he retained the golden hue in his human skin that had glowed on his scales, his teeth still pointed slightly, and his fingers remained claw-like. When, at last, the transformation had become complete, he had dropped to one knee and offered his love and service to the one who had always been there for him, to the one whose touch he craved by the second, as a devoted servant and lover.

Night of Writing Dangerously - Part 2

2009-11-23T12:03:00.000-08:00

I am nowhere near finishing my novel. At 38,417 words, I have just finished chapter 14 and I have 32 chapters planned out for this book. It's pretty insane. When I finish NaNoWriMo, I need to keep writing because I'm still going to have at least 10-14 chapters left to write by that point in time.

However, last night's Night of Writing Dangerously definitely helped me knock out some of my word count! I wrote 4,000 words last night. Yay!

There were a group of four of us that carpooled down to the Julia Morgan Ballroom in San Francisco. I didn't dress up in the noir theme that they had going on (and, once I got there, I wished that I had), but Kyleen and her son, Curtis, did. And they looked spectacular.

It took us about 3 hours to get there. Surprisingly, there wasn't as much traffic on the Bay Bridge as we thought that there might be, so we got there early. We didn't get in until, 5pm, however, so we stood around, watching people come up in their amazing costumes and I felt jealous of all of them. The first picture is of our entire group, together, right outside the ballroom. From left to right, it's Terry *(the woman who let me come to this event as her guest), Kyleen, Curtis, and myself.

When they finally let us in inside the ballroom, we were awestruck. It was absolutely gorgeous. They had table upon table set up for competitions such as word sprints. I knew I wasn't going to win any of them since I'm not that fast of a typer but it was fun to see people so excited.

So, as you can see in the picture above, there was a Candy Buffet at the table right behind ours. And yes, we munched on candy until we were too sick to want anything else but real food, which wasn't served to us until 7:30. So, after we sat down, we just got to writing. Terry won the first Word Sprint and, with it, won a book but had to wear a flower pot hat until the next word sprint:

I was jealous of her book. I'm definitely going to the book store today in search of it. Then, we also had cards to compete word-wise with other tables:

Mostly, though, we just ignored most of that stuff and write. Chris Baty, founder of the Office of Letters and Light and NaNoWriMo, came up to talk around 8pm. At one point, I went and got my author's photos done and I cannot WAIT to see them when they come out but I fear that might not be for a while. Then, before we left, we had the most amazing (and kind of disgusting) creative doughnuts served to us. Mine was a mixture of Captain Crunch Cereal and what tasted like Krispe Kreme frosting:

We called this one the nose bleed:

There were just tons of doughnuts. There was a doughnut that looked like a hamburger with bacon in the center, and doughnuts with cereal and just every other thing you can imagine on top. I was so sick of candy and sweets by the time the doughnuts came that I took about 2 bites out of my doughnut, threw it away, and just went back to writing.

So, as I said, I wrote about 4,000 words. I met Chris Baty, who told me that I could come work for him if I lived close enough. (Which would be awesome! Gotta convince the boyfriend to move us to UC Berkley for grad school now.) And I just, overall, had a good time. We got a bag with the awesome Night of Writing Dangerously logo on it and, inside, lots of cool stuff, including an offer to edit the first 15 pages of my novel for $35, which, unfortunately, I do not have the money for at the moment. On the flip side of things, I think I'm going to try and raise my own $200 next year and not go as a guest. And I'm going to dress up in whatever theme they have. (Hope it's steampunk.) Here's to hoping!

Excerpt from Chapter 15:

Naomi scoffed and pushed him, and, as Farren fell backwards, fire unexpectedly spurted from his fingers, lighting the couch closest to him on fire. As the flames began to eat their way through the silk cushions, Micaal yelled at his apprentice for his clumsiness and inability to ever be a proper blacksmith, Raneese began to roar with laugher, and her apprentice, Tren, leaped from where he was sitting on the couch, clutching The Book of the Gods to his chest, and yelling at all of them. In the midst of the craziness, as Micaal began to shake Farren by the shoulders, pointing to the flames, Damian pushed his way through the crowd and put the fire out with a short spurt of water from his hands. The damage had, unfortunately, already spread through half of the couch, eating up most of the beautifully embroidered cushions. Adrianne giggled along with Piper and Raneese as Tren jumped up and down, the book pressed to his chest, shaking a finger at them and cursing them all in the name of the gods. Damian had to jump between Micaal and Farren, who, fire at their fingertips, faced one another in a duel of control. It seemed more like a duel of out-of-control than anything else.

Tidbits for you today!

2009-11-19T23:41:00.000-08:00

Chapter 11 tidbit:

Onions.
Hundreds of onions. Red, white, and yellow, they nearly poured from the door, round, large and small. Their smell could make a rabbit fall dead; some, smashed, shone with tear-jerking juice, a danger to those who happened to stumble in their path. Margaret covered her nose with her hands, her eyes already watering… not from the smell.
Tiny hands, reaching up, tiny loving hands. She squeezed the round white globes in her blood-stained palms, the clear juice streaking through the red and down her arms, dropping their sweet fragrance to the hard-packed earth below. Tiny hands, reaching; a tiny voice, crying, “sister, sister, all dead, sister!” Once pushed away, twice pushed away, three times they reached, up and up… “sister, sister”… until flying and clutching tight, crying, sobbing, “sister…”
And silence.

Chapter 12

Over the years, Tristen had debated with himself, his former mentor, Piper, the other Dragonriders, and even Katisha about the moral ethics of his connection with his brother. Since the foundation of his ability, around his 22nd birthday, Tristen had been able to use his connection with his twin brother as a way to keep his eye on the kingdom. He had discovered the ability almost by accident one day, while with his mentor and concentrating on lifting his dragon off the ground by sheer ability, when he had suddenly thought of his brother in a moment of desperation. Katisha had dropped to the ground, his mentor had yelled at him in frustration, and Tristen had suddenly found himself in Jacob’s head, hearing his brother’s voice and seeing out his eyes as if they were his own. He had been frightened at first but, as the months passed and he heard no word from Jacob about the experience, he had finally been convinced by his mentor to fine-tune the skills and use them as a benefit to the other Atherians, along with himself. He was able to tell when his brother was in trouble or in a heated debate. He had even, on several occasions, accidentally arrived just as Jacob was making love to some strange woman and had to draw himself away from his brother’s mind before seeing more than he wanted to know about his twin. Each time he went in, he tried to convince himself it would be the last, that he wouldn’t spy any longer. Each time he couldn’t help himself, trying to convince himself that one more time couldn’t hurt, that Jacob wouldn’t notice.

And an extra bit of news...

I'M GOING TO THE NIGHT OF WRITING DANGEROUSLY!!!!!!!! Pictures will come after Sunday!

Blood to Blood

2009-11-17T01:07:00.000-08:00

Tonight, while talking to one of my dearest friends, I stumbled upon a memory of the past.

When my father first left, almost 3 years ago now, my younger sister took on the idea that no one could do any wrong in her eyes. Her view on my father was that there had to be some good left in him and it was her job to find it. She searched and searched, only to be turned down again and again. I watched her struggle, tried to help her, but I think I reminded her too much of him. Finally, after her senior year of high school, that personality trait cracked a little and she began seeing people, for their good and bad, like she used to. Even still, living with her for those 2 1/2 years were painful. We both fought against one another, not quite sure what it was that bugged us about the other one. We knew how to push one anothers buttons and did so often, so often that it broke my amazing mother's calm until she would have to scream at us to stop fighting.

However, in the past few months, since I have moved from my mother's home up to college, my sister and I have begun to get along. Lately, we've talked on the phone more than twice a week, whether it be about school or my dad or whatever. We get along. We laugh at one another's jokes and tell one another stories of our lives. I can actually say that I'm beginning to believe that I'm becoming friends with my sister. All those years of screaming "I hate you" and "Once you move, you'll never hear from me" in the heat of the battle are gone when we talk on the phone. It's a relief. And I'm happy about it.

So here's to you, sister dear!! And our future friendship. For good and for bad.

Down With Some Sickness

2009-11-15T12:13:00.000-08:00

It is Sunday and I am sick.

I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier. Everyone at my university has been getting sick and, conveniently, both the boyfriend and I came down with the same sickness at the same time, so we have the same symptoms and everything. And, since both of us are sick, we've been looking at one another pitifully, with no one to take care of us because one of us isn't well enough to want to take care of the other one.

There's a whole lot of pitiful going on in my apartment right now.

At some point, though, I have to leave because I'm supposed to make it to 25,000 words today and, as you can probably see, I'm close but not quite close enough. However, something wierd is going on. I've been told I wasn't going to the Night of Writing Dangerously and now it seems that it might be back on again. The whole thing is so confusing.

Barnes and Noble really needs to get on the Christmas ball and start making those Peppermint Mochas because I'm getting to that time of the year where I'm craving them. And since I only allow myself to drink them during the month of December then... well... It's close to that time.

Excerpt of the day:

Margaret stepped forward and attempted a curtsey, stretching her neck forward to kiss the hand that the gypsy king held out to her. He drew it back with a hearty laugh before she could even touch it and then reached out and took her hands in his, drawing her up to look at him. Up close, Margaret suddenly found she felt warmth in the mismatched brown and green eyes, and she relaxed as his warm hands clasped hers. His long grey beard had various clock-like objects tied to it, his mismatched clothing hung with odd gadgets and around his waist hung hundreds of pocket watches. “You are welcome, my dear, to dine with our little group tonight,” he told her and his voice was gentle and calming. Margaret couldn’t help but smile. “I am Ronin, King of the Gypsies. Please accept this gift,” he continued, unhooking one of the intricate pocket watches from the belt around his waist and hanging it around her neck. “Always remember that time is your friend, sorceress…”

Lately

2009-11-11T11:28:00.000-08:00

It's been a busy couple of days.

Oddly enough, right when I decided to change my major, the school's major change website stopped working and the advisor that I needed to sign my papers to verify the change went out of town. Luckily, the adviser also happens to be the adviser in charge of the school newspaper, so I know where to find him if I need to know.

And speaking of the school newspaper...

About a week or two ago, the Chief Copy Editor circulated an email amongst us copy editors, asking who wanted to take on her job next semester. (It changes per semester, which means I could be a writer one semester and a copy editor the next.) I debated going for the job since it pays about $300 a month, which would be a nice little chunk to store away for the summer. However, I thought that one of the girls that I copy-edited with would do a better job of it. Long story short, she (the copy-editing friend) convinced me to go for the job. When I went down to talk to the Chief Copy Editor, she told me the job would basically go to whoever spent the most time training. I was also supposed to write a mission statement, which she said I have a slight edge on since apparently I'm the only copy that actually calls contacts to check the spellings of their names and facts that they gave the writer. So, Tuesday I went in for my first day of training and I will continue to go in to train on Mondays and Tuesdays until the end of the semester. I'm running against one other girl, another copy editor (but not the friend), so we'll see how it turns out. All I can say is that, if I get that job, I'm going to feel really guilty while sitting in basic journalism classes with freshmen and sophomores and that being my first semester of journalism.

Although I haven't posted anything for the past couple for days, I am still doing NaNoWriMo. If you haven't seen it yet, I have a box right underneath my profile that changes as my word count goes up. I'm still above the daily word count but, unfortunately, writing has been an effort this week (as the staff of NaNoWriMo told us it would be.) I was also looking forward to going to the Night of Writing Dangerously on November but, due to some mishaps, the car husband of the woman who I was going with broke down so she might not be able to go. So, if I still wanted to go, I would have to pay double price and, personally, I don't have the money for that. It's unfortunate but I'll live and write on.

Excerpt from Chapter Seven:

He remembered back, to a day of smiles and gloating, a day he still despise with all of his might. His mother had stood in front of the castle, removing the crown from her eldest son’s head as he traded it for riding leather, trading his kingdom to a life of living off the land, and she kissed that head, looking upon him so fondly that Jacob had wondered if she had been trying to remember his face in her mind forever. They had said their farewells, Tristen clasping his sibling’s hand in a tight grip and wishing him luck on his new journey. Then, after his brother had disappeared with his new mentor, Jacob’s mother had approached him, tears in her eyes, and thrown the ownerless crown down at his feet. “Do your best to live up to it,” she spat at him, stalking away. She had hidden herself in her room for weeks after that, leaving him without counsel, and died only a year after Tristen had left the castle. His brother had returned for the funeral, his face stony and unrecognizable even though Jacob had only seen a month before. Jacob avoided him that day and was relieved to find that Tristen did not search for his sibling; instead he left on his dragon directly after the funeral had commenced, the same way he had arrived. You couldn’t even bother staying alive after he left, could you? the king silently questioned the tombstone.

Crossing a Line

2009-11-08T03:14:00.000-08:00

I try to keep certain parts of my personal life out of this blog.

However, tonight, the boyfriend gave me an unexpected surprised when I came home from a girls night. One of his new friends, a girl, had called him, asking if she could use my ID to get into the bars because she assumed that we both looked enough alike to where it wouldn't be a problem.

First of all, I'm not 21. I don't turn 21 for another month and I realize that, just because my boyfriend is 22, people automatically assume that I am old enough to drink as well. Luckily, neither of us drink that often so it doesn't really bother us. Second of all, if I was 21, I don't who this girl thinks she is, asking for my ID. She could A) get herself thrown in jail B) get me thrown in jail and C) pretty much ruin both of our lives for such an idiotic act. Get a fake ID if you're really that desperate. Third of all, asking my boyfriend for such a favor could potentially ruin his friendship with her. Mainly because she crossed a line. A major line.

I'm here to tell you all this evening that I just wrote a very nasty email to a girl that my boyfriend is fairly good friends with and also someone who he considers to be a smart, decent person. I'm here to tell you that I wrote a very nasty email to someone who I've been getting to know, someone who I've been thinking better of. I'm here to tell you that I wrote a very nasty email to a girl who I don't know that well and, from this point on, no longer want to get to know.

Now, I realize I'm a college student. And I realize that, in this college world, people want/need alcohol. I'm not entirely sure what the point is exactly of getting so drunk that you wake up with flu-like symptoms in the morning, but that's just me. That's just my personality. It has nothing to do with the fact that I've gone through an entire semester of classes about drugs and alcohol. It had nothing to do with the fact that my previous major was health education. It has to do with the face that I do not understand why people can't just get alcohol from their over-age friends before they turn 21. Going to the bars is just like hanging out with your friends - you drink, you get stupid, you get loud. If you want to have a bar scene, drink with a lot of people. I'm sure you'll get the point of the bar that way. If you want to be in the bar atmosphere, DON'T ask to borrow someone's ID. I mean... seriously? If you're going to risk getting someone in trouble, why drag someone else down with you? Find yourself a fake ID and risk jail on your own time.

I really just don't get why students, smart students, are willing to take the risk to throw their lives away like this. They have so much potential in their lives and yet they don't consider how something so simple as using someone else's ID could totally ruin that potential. They might call me boring for not living such an exiting life, on the edge, but, you know what? Who freakin' cares?

And, as I told the friend of the boyfriend, "Smart girls know to wait until they are 21 to hit the bars. Smart girls know it's an idiot idea to do something that could greatly affect the rest of their lives."

Clip from Chapter Six:

They had no idea of what they were doing, none of them. This was their third attempt that month at burning her and each time she had managed to escape their grasp before she had reached the stake. That is, until now. They had caught her off-guard at home, caught her with rope to bind and cloth to gag and a large, heavy object that had knocked her out… she hadn’t any time to get away. But it was no matter: she had been granted with a special gift and she put her faith in that and nothing else. It alone would save her, even if she was currently bound and prepared for the flame of hell. The time for crying out to the gods and weeping had long passed, perhaps never to return. Before her imprisonment, Margaret had been a faithful servant of the gods, a humbled individual. Well, she thought, I was, anyway. Now it’s time for a lesson on faithfulness. Her focus remained on breathing in and out: eventually, the screams of the crowd blended together and dissolved, flowing away from her as water. In and out. It was all she could do to have faith and keep calm. “Witch,” one boy shouted, throwing sand at her down-turned face. Each grain struck her face as dewdrops and fell away as quickly as they had come.

Daily Blurb - From Ch. 5

2009-11-06T16:37:00.001-08:00

I don’t know what happens, either, Tristen. I don’t have the ability to see into the beyond. If there are other dragons out there besides our five, I wouldn’t know how to contact them. Certain memories, the memories that are transferred from our mothers when she lays our eggs, are the only memories that we are born with. You filled me with your memories, also, but neither your memories nor those of my mother contained life after the joining of the Elders.

He felt her sadness touch his mind and he had the urge to turn away from it. His gaze moved to the ground passing quickly below, as he tried not to think about the death or disappearance of his beloved soul mate. His eyes grew accustomed to the night and he could make out a well and a tiny cabin up ahead.

“What’s that?”

Wanting More

2009-11-06T11:46:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt when you walk into a room full of peers that you know that everyone likes you there but you simply don't feel like you belong?

That's how I have felt the past couple of weeks regarding my major. I love the people involved in it but I just don't feel as if I should really be there. When people come up to me and ask what I want to do with my major, if I don't automatically say, "nursing," (normally it's along the lines of running a woman's clinic), people give me funny looks or kind of a shun attitude. No offense to the people going into nursing; they are doing something that I completely respect but just don't feel like I want to be involved in. I've been keeping these feelings inside the past couple of weeks, only mentioning to the boyfriend sometime last week that I wondered what it would be like to be a religious studies major.

Wednesday, I decided that I was done with Health. I was bored and, when my Computer Applications teacher told us that we had to pick a motivational statement of our goals in Health Education, I couldn't think of anything to write. "What it is that you want to do with your life?" one of my friends asked me and my only response to that was, "write." It's true. All I want to do is write. But the realization that I didn't know what to do with my life (apart from write) hit me like a ton of bricks. I have already changed my major once. I didn't want to do it again. I had thought to use Health as a back-up plan in case my novel didn't take off (which there's no guarantee that it ever will) but I knew Health was the wrong back up plan. Even when a very close friend of mine told me, "It doesn't matter what you're major is; you could even take time off school if you want to work on your writing so badly," I couldn't agree. I needed a back up plan.

So, as you might have guessed, after much deliberation, I changed my major to journalism. Since it requires a minor, I am minoring in the Literary Editing and Publishing certificate (which, for some odd reason, journalism still considers a minor even though it is really a certificate). My Health friends are disappointed in me, my journalism friends (and the staff of the newspaper) are thrilled, and my new adviser did this funny little dance when I told him I wanted to change to journalism. I still haven't let my Health adviser know... I figured that would be the upsetting conquest of next week. People who were disappointed that I changed my major from English Lit are satisfied that I am do some sort of writing (as am I) and I really don't regret this change at all. Especially because if the minor falls through due to budget cuts, I'll be a creative writing minor. I've signed up for the classes that are still open and I'm really excited/intimidated by my Creative Nonfiction class next semester.

It was a necessary change and a good one. I don't regret it, even though journalism is a lot more work (unit-wise) than health education.

At least I wont be taking physiology next semester.

Excerpt from chapter 5:
To be posted later today.

Taking a Break

2009-11-05T00:19:00.000-08:00

I took the night off of writing tonight. Not because I wanted to but because I just couldn't bring myself to write for reasons I will state when I have them decently clarified in my head. Probably a few days down the road. That will be a hard blog to post.

Anyway, since my novel covers steampunk, I decided to post a few things from etsy that are steampunk related, so you might get an idea of my meaning. I'm currently collecting items (not necessarily these) for my own steampunk costume for the convention in Seattle next year, which I'm totally excited about and hope that some of my steampunk loving friends will join me at. So, without further ado, here I present steampunk:

An underbust bodice that can be found at http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=33763382.

An antique watch necklace, found at http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=13177128.

Aviator Goggles found at The Badger's Den: http://www.badgersden.com/Store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=304_326&products_id=1258

Pearl Cuff Bracelet: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=20249909

Steampunk pocketwatch: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=33787555&ref=sr_gallery_5&&ga_search_query=steampunk+pocketwatch&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_page=&order=date_desc&includes[]=tags&includes[]=title

And then, of course, my two absolute favorites:

The fancy cloth wrist corsage: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=33820790&ref=sr_gallery_8&&ga_search_query=steampunk+clothing&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_page=3&order=date_desc&includes[]=tags&includes[]=title

Red and Gold Corset: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=33784463&ref=sr_gallery_10&&ga_search_query=steampunk+clothing&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_page=5&order=date_desc&includes[]=tags&includes[]=title

Mix a few of these things together (the watch, corset, corsage, goggles) and you're getting close to a steampunk-looking outfit!

Happiness = Glee

2009-11-04T00:21:00.000-08:00

I wish we had a Glee Club in High School.

I know it might be weird but I actually can attribute much of my current happiness in life with the new television show: Glee. I look forward to it every week, to see what songs they pick to sing. If I'm having a bad day, I listen to "Dont Stop Believin'" or "Somebody to Love" and I can't help but smile. I mean, seriously, when you have people my age singing their hearts out and you can feel it, you can feel that they actually enjoy doing this, life is awesome. Especially now, since the first volume of Glee music just came out today. I know I sound a little silly but I listened to the CD twice before my first class of the day, and that's more than 15 songs.

I'm not really sure what the writers of the show are going to do with the second season, if/when they get produced for season 2. I'm not sure what age most of the Glee kids are in but I get the feeling that they're all seniors in high school. There are a few ticking clocks running around in the show right now and, by the time the alarms have all gone off, their year of high school will practically be over and then... what? New Glee kids? I'll just have to wait and see. For now, I'm reccommending Glee to anyone having a bad day and listening to the songs has been sending to me bed with a smile on my face.

Chapter excerpt of the day:

The little woodcutters cabin in the clearing had been deserted for a while.

Margaret could tell just from looking at it. The windows were tainted with dust and misuse over the years; the door hung open lazily, one hinge broken and falling off; the staircase leading up to the door was rotted and disintegrating. From her spot behind a tree where the clearing began, a quarter mile away from the cabin, she knew that it was the perfect spot to hide. No one had used it in months, maybe years. No one would even notice it as they wandered by. It wasn’t sheltered from the rain, the wind would rattle the windows something fierce, and it probably reeked with rot. The perfect place to hide.

NaNoWriMo Exhaustion... Already?

2009-11-02T21:13:00.000-08:00

I kicked butt yesterday.

I'm proud to tell myself that because I really did. I was able to crank out two chapters and over 4500 words for the second draft of my novel in 24 hours. I spent nearly 7 hours writing yesterday. I fell into bed exhausted but totally happy last night. And, according to the boyfriend, the actual writing wasn't too bad either (but you can never trust those you love, right?)

I am exhausted, though. Today, especially, since I had to divide my time between chores, errands, school work, and writing. I struggled to finish chapter three, on which I got stuck twice but forced myself out of writers block after taking a break for an hour or so each time to work on something else. (Like reading boring literature: aka - the textbook for one of my classes. Believe me, that makes you want to get back to writing after a while.) However, I did finish it, finally, and I've made it to 7,301 words, which is a huge jump from the 3,334 words that I only need to have today. I'm looking forward to writing chapter four tomorrow, too, but I'm dreading school. I just want to spend my time writing. However, on the bright side, I organized a student NaNoWriMo group to hang out with me and write in between classes in one of the student centers and, from what they've said on the website, most people seem to be looking forward to it. I really think I'll be making a lot of friends out of this experience (just as I did with the whole HvZ experience) and I'm up for a challenge.

Daily clip - from Chapter 3:
With a warning screech, Katisha suddenly veered to the left and Tristen clung to her neck, hanging on for dear life. He heard the screams of hundreds and, glancing to his right, he saw a large, boat-like contraption that was attached to a fabric air-filled balloon-like structure. The boat was double tiered and, from what he could tell, those with the finer clothing stood screaming at the bottom tier and those with more decent outwear screamed from the top, as the boat veered to the right, away from Tristen and his dragon. Katisha screamed in fear again, trying to stay air-born after her sudden scare and the people screamed right back at her. It hurts, Tristen… she complained, lowering their altitude once more. I must get away. Several strong beats of her wings and they were miles away from the flying contraption, leaving Tristen only to stare back at it in bewilderment.
What in the name of the gods' could that have been?

Zombies, Costumes, and Other Odd Things

2009-11-01T20:21:00.000-08:00

Well, first I must apologize for not getting to Day 5 of being a zombie. I was not sure how to write that post and so I simply ignored it, hoping it would go away. But, assuming some of you are curious to know how the last day went, well... here it is.

There was an epic battle between the humans and the zombies that participated the last day. I was not involved in the first part of it, where the humans had to take a "scientist" to his "lab," which was all the way across campus, in a certain time limit. Apparently, the humans reached their goal because they ended up turning 5 zombies back into humans, including the original zombie which soooo many of us zombies were furious about but what can you do? Because the scientist reached his destination, the game changed a bit for the ending battle. Humans now had the "cure" to the virus, so whenever a human touched a zombie with a sock, the zombie instantly died and was out of the game. In the final scenerio, the humans ran from the scientist's lab to an "extraction site" where our moderator stood, who was going to call a "helicopter" at a certain time and, whomever made it to the moderator in time was "airlifted" in the "helicopter" and our school was "blow up" to rid the town of zombies. As you can imagine, the humans won. The zombies were no longer stunned when hit, they were dead. About 10 zombies survived until the bomb hit our school, which was a major achievement. Jo was one of the zombie who survived until then; I, however, received a sock-dose of the vaccine. When the game finally ended, we cheered loudly for our moderator, who promised that he would try and make sure we would get nerf-guns for the next game next semester.

I hope we do.

Then came Halloween, which was a very crazy day. I spent the night before and most of the day of Halloween (until around 3) copy-editing and dealing with some outrageous problems that hardly seem to happen during my copy-editing session. Then, Jo and I wandered around downtown to "see the scene" and stare at all the people in their costumes and setting up games of beer pong. I didn't know if I should be happy or not that Jo and I had not planned on participating in the Halloween party scene, which seems to be the only thing this town looks forward to every year. Even the adults. I'm still not sure how I felt about it. But, when we came back to my apartment, we watched 28 Weeks Later, which scared the pants off of me. Then , at 11pm, I went to the NaNoWriMo Kick-Off party, which ended up being me and 2 other people writing for about an hour and then going home and crashing and meeting up today at 1:30 to write some more. Now, 4,524 words and two chapters later, I'm totally exhausted. I am still vamped about writing chapter three tomorrow, though.

So, since my brain is dead, I will leave you all with a short excerpt and post my daily doings another day.

Excerpt from Chapter One:

In the cold, stillness of the night, Margaret sloshed forth, her arms wrapped around her body. She leaned forward as she walked, despite the fact that there was not a single breath of wind; in fact, the trees blocked any sign of day or night whatsoever and she plunged through, unaware of what a step outside the wood might take her. She was sure this was night, though. During the day, she occasionally came upon an opening where the light streamed through like the gentle touch of mage and she was assured once again that day was still out there.

Zombie Slayers Gone Wild - Part Four

2009-10-30T00:23:00.000-07:00

*Gurgle*

Brains... must feed...

*Low moan*

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I want to add a side note to this blog post which, yes, is supposed to be short and stupid. You'll see why tomorrow. (I've been having way too much fun at school chasing humans around for me not to act like a silly zombie.) Lately, the boyfriend and I have been re-watching the old Star Wars movies. You know, the original three, the only ones that are worth watching. We finally got to the last one and a little conversation between Vader and the Emperor caught my eye. Now, I have watched these movies over and over again but it took a late night viewing to come up with this. I'll write it down first, see if you can catch it, and then I'll mention what I saw. This little conversation takes place just after Leah, Han, and Luke have met the Ewocks on Endor.

Vader: My son with with them.
Emperor: Are you sure?
Vader: I have felt him.
Emperor: Strange I have not. I wonder if your feelings on this matter are clear, Lord Vader.
Vader: They are clear, my master.
Emperor: You must go to the Centrilian Moon and wait for him.
Vader: He will come to me.
Emperor: Yes. I have forseen it. His compassion for you will be his undoing. He will come to you and you will bring him before me.

Find it? No?

Rewind a second. Vader kind of leads this conversation and the Emperor catches on later, making Vader's words his own. Vader is confident that he will see Luke under Luke's own terms and, at first, the Emperor questions this. He even critisizes Vader, wondering if his "feelings on the matter are clear." Then, later in the conversation, the Emperor basically repeats what Vader said, telling him "I have forseen it." My question is this: How could the Emperor have forseen this when he even tells Vader "Strange that I have not" in regards to feeling Luke's presence?

It's just so funny how little things like re-watching a beloved film could catch such mistakes. I wonder what George Lucus thinks of his masterpiece after all these years. I still love this movie, anyway.

Zombie Slayers Gone Wild - Part Three

2009-10-28T22:10:00.000-07:00

I must write quickly before the poison takes hold of me. I fear these are my last few moments of sanity.

Yes, that's right, I have been bitten. It was a long hard battle and I'll will tell all to you in due time.

As I got on the bus this morning, still human, I met five other male humans, well armed, who offered to get me to my class safely. I took this offer and off to class we went, without seeing a single zombie along the way. However, once in class, one of my dear friends became ill and my professor asked me to take her to the Health Center, the one place I didn't want to go (after previous experiences with that retched place) but I said I would go, anyway. Armed with socks, I walked her over to the Health Center, once again without meeting a single zombie. What is going on? I thought to myself. They should be out by now! After seeing her safe within the confines of the sick ward, I headed back towards the library in search of zombies. I knew they were out. There were at least 55 of them. It had been reported last night!

That's when I got the text message from Jo. He had been bitten and was going through the painful transformation. I shed a single tear and then closed my cell phone. All I could do was let him go to his doom.

I was right about the zombies being out. One was there, walking across a bridge I was also crossing to get to the library. She turned, ready, but was not fast enough. I pegged her with a sock before she could even get near. Inside the library, I ran into a human friend, one that needed to get to a building that had been rumored to be infested with zombies. I offered my services and we traveled without disturbance. I was dumb-founded by this time. I had hardly seen any zombies all day. Very few guarded the library, which was normally very guarded. I headed home to get ready for my second class, pondering this thought.

I suppose I let my ego get the best of me. That must have been why this happened. After class, a fellow human and I debated on waiting until 6:30 (when the zombies had to stand down) to go to a human meeting that was supposed to take place in the library at 6:45. We peeked out of the building and, though we couldn't see any zombies, I immediately got a bad feeling about the situation. I wanted to wait until 6:30 to come out of hiding but she offered that we move now, while the zombies were gone. We were sure, too, that they had all given up until we came upon the library cooridor.

We didn't even make it to the front door.

Three zombies jumped out of hiding and sprinted after the two of us. I bolted for the neared building I could see, which happened to be the second closest building. I realized, as my friend was bitten behind me and let out a shriek, that I had led us in the wrong direction. I heard fast steps beside me and turned to hit the original zombie, who immediately backed down. I kept running. Moments before I reached the door of the building, I turned to hit the zombie behind me and, as the sock left my hand, he grabbed me. I let out a disappointed wail and stooped to catch my breath as the pain of the new transformation began to flow through my veins. Moments later, the original zombie appeared, welcoming me into the horde and complementing me on my quickness of step. "We could use people like you!" he told me as he clapped me on the shoulder.

And now I am home. In these last moments, I apologize to all of you for my weakness of judgment. I was trained to be strong and I wasn't strong. I was trained to be wise and I wasn't wise. I am sorry to let you all down. I just hope that... in this new transformation...

I can find...

forgiveness...

Zombie Slayers Gone Wild - Part Two

2009-10-27T22:14:00.000-07:00

I knew today would be much different than yesterday.

First of all, I had more stuff to carry with me today. If I had only had to go to the library and study for my evening midterm, I would have just carried on small bag. But I had my yoga mat with me, as well as a set of clothes for yoga. Which put extra weight on, extra weight that I would have to carry if I broke into a sprint away from a determined zombie.

Second of all, the finally tally for zombies last night was 22. That means that the original zombie tagged enough zombies, who tagged other zombies, to reach the count of 22. Who knew what the count would get to be today? If all of those zombies tagged at least one person, the count would reach 44. Or worse. What if they each tagged two people? The count would be 66. And I’m determined not to be one of those 66. Or 88. Or 110.

I have been taking the bus to school instead of riding my bicycle because rumors have it that last year there was a zombie outbreak and a human got chased down by three zombies while riding his bicycle to school. And there’s no way you can ride your bike and pelt zombies with socks all at the same time. So, as I stepped off the bus, I looked around cautiously, alternating between looking in front of me and then behind me every other second, and darted to my yoga class. I got there safely, without a single zombie spotting.

Afterwords, however, it was a different story. On my way out of the building, I ran into another member of the resistance, a girl around my age looking very rattled. I asked her if she had seen any zombies and she immediately told my how she had bumped into her friend in a building who had been turned into a zombie and how, even though it was only the second day, they were growing in number. I thanked her, promising to be cautious, and set on my way. I had planned to head straight to the library to study for a midterm, avoiding any narrow paths where zombies might be hiding in wait of an unaware human. However, there was a slight kink to my plan. I needed a scantron for my exam and the only place that I knew to get one was the student store. I mapped the path out in my head before starting out, using the same method as before of alternating between looking in front of me and then behind me.

I had almost made it there. As I crossed an open grassy area, students absolutely everywhere, I could see the student store in front of me. I debated breaking into a sprint but I decided that it would make me much less aware of my surroundings, as I would have to sprint and look ahead. As I rotated my gaze to behind me, I suddenly saw it: a male zombie, dark-haired, about my height with an orange bandanna, racing towards me. For a moment, I froze, and then, feeling the weight of the sock of my hand, I whipped around, aimed the sock at him, and threw it. He jumped past me, the sock missing him by an inch, and as he turned to try again, I recovered my sock and threw it. I thought it missed him until a disappointed look crossed his face and I knew I had hit my target. “Fifteen minutes!” I yelled and then hustled to the student store, breathing hard by the time I was inside. I was only there for five minutes, so I knew he couldn’t follow me for another ten. That was enough time to get to the library, I told myself.

The trip to the library was a little less eventful but only slightly. A zombie in a green bandanna stood against a pillar, texting, glancing around him. I froze, watching him closely, and then I moved slowly, quietly. I can only suppose he didn’t see me, although I was ready, sock in hand. As soon as I was close enough, I made a bolt for the door of the library and retreated safely inside for a couple hours of studying.

A few hours into the library session, I ran into a bunch of humans who were watching zombies in front of the library from a window. We bickered for a while about whether or not they could get me to my 6:30 before 6:30 (since the zombies have to stand down on campus after dark) and we finally were able to work out a route to my class before it became too dark. We also worked out a major zombie massacre on Thursday afternoon (if we all were still humans by then).

Jo is still a human. We’re keeping each other safe.

Final tally:

Megan – 1

Zombies - 0

Zombie Slayers Gone Wild - Part One

2009-10-26T18:20:00.000-07:00

The epidemic has begun.

I've seen several of my fellow humans but no one can seem to tell me who the original zombie is. All we can do is walk softly and become paranoid people. My fellow classmates - those not knowing or caring about the epidemic - stare at me strangely. I'm sure the orange bandanna around my arm looks slightly strange but it's the only method the fellow members of the resistance and myself can tell who is who.

We hear the zombie are growing smarter.

The infection begins at the forehead, the sin growing grayish and ragged. We're not entirely sure how it began; rumors are that a freshman chemistry student went rogue and ingested a tampered formula. We do know that once touched, the infection spreads like wildfire. Those who have started getting the infection decided to move their bandanna from their arms to their foreheads to hide the beginnings of the infection. It tricked us at first but, once one of those monsters with the bandannas on their heads attacked a member of the resistance, we grew smart, too. Anyone wearing a head bandanna is immediately pelted with ammo... er... socks. Or hidden from.

But I am not the hiding type.

I have not seen a zombie today but, then again, it is only the first day of the epidemic. Jo, on the other hand, was caught in an elevator with a human who had very recently been turned into a zombie. As soon as he could find me, we immediately snuck out of the building before that one zombie retrieved her zombie friends and killed us in a zombie fashion. I would have stayed and fought for the resistance but we're not quite sure how many zombies there are on campus at the moment. Once we see more zombies, we can take different precautions.

I am determined to survive the week.

Me, brandishing my sock and orange bandanna.

Jo with his yellow bandanna, determined to fight for the resistance.

The Dripping Darkness

2009-10-23T09:11:00.000-07:00

You think things are good. You're reaching towards the light and your fingertips just barely brush it. Fascinated by the illumination on your fingers, you just stare, blissfully happy. And then the world goes black and you are in darkness again. In the emptiness again. All there is left to do is weep.

I didn't get the job, as some of you might have guessed. I didn't even get a second interview. And then it all fell back again upon working "at the hardware store." I don't want to work at the hardware store. This is not in offense to my previous coworkers or my former boss. Sure, I loved it there and I miss all of them. However, it's time for me to move on. But, at every turn, all I hear is, "Why don't you go work at the hardware store?" or "why don't you go home for the summer and go back to work at the hardware store?" And I feel as if I'm losing my balance, falling backwards as I struggle to keep upright.

I am told that there is more than embracing the darkness. I am told that I should search for the light, because it is there, somewhere. But when all is darkness, all I can do is adjust my eyes and go on. Maybe the light will find me someday. Either way, I cannot keep from weeping.

Not an English Major: You Do the Math

2009-10-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

I must be writing a lot about writing my novel on my Facebook, lately, because a very dear friend of mine asked an interesting question today. I’m not sure if I have ever completely covered this subject on this blog but I suppose I’ll cover it now. The question my friend asked was, “If you like writing so much, why aren’t you still an English major?”

I could give a very simple response to this and, then, I could give a very long-winded one. I think I’ll do both. We’ll start with the simple one. I’m not an English major the same way Michael Crichton was not an English major (RIP to an amazing writer). I realize that Stephen King taught English for a while (and one of the women in my NaNoWriMo group teaches an English language class) but it is not a necessity.

Now for the long one: I used to be an English major. All through high school, English was my favorite class. I did better than many of my peers, baffled many of my friends, and it was the one subject that I could proudly beat my ex-boyfriend at without trying (he was better than I at basically everything else). I’ve been writing since the 3rd grade so, naturally, English was what I thought I was going to get into as a major. I actually tried all the different areas of English in my senior year high school: I was a copy editor for the school newspaper, I was taking an AP English Literature class, I took a creative writing class from the local junior college during the fall, and I followed a professor at the junior college for my senior project (of what job we would like to get into). I decided early on that I didn’t want to teach, not because I couldn’t but because I would get bored with the repetition. When I started applying for 4-year universities, I applied as a creative writing major but, thankfully, due to circumstances, I didn’t go to any of those universities and attended the junior college instead. I ended up graduating with my AA in English Literature and actually applied for my current university in the Editing Literature major.

So, why then, you ask, did I suddenly switch my major? Why did I turn from something that I loved doing so very much?

The truth is this: I hated it. Sure, without my emotions involved, my resume is pretty clear: ENGLISH MAJOR. But, as soon as I got into college (and when I was taking those AP English exams), I despised every essay. It was really clear that I was done with the major when I was forced to read Crime and Punishment in Spring of 2009; forcing myself to sit down every day with the novel, a pen, and little pieces of paper to shove into the spine as I made notes about the plot, theme, ect; forcing myself to dissect every little paragraph, sentence, or word that I came across with; forcing myself to write about Dunya’s transformation as a result of Raskolnikov. For some, that might be heaven. For me, it was taking a wet towel and twisting it very slowly, until every last drop had disappeared. Those drops? The joy of writing. The joy of reading. I am not an English major because it took away the joy of sitting down and reading a good book.

I remember that professor telling my class at the end of the semester, “I bet none of you will never be able to sit down with a book ever again and read it without seeing the themes, noting the syntax, and finding chronotopes.” I didn’t reply to him but, by this time, I thought to myself, “Whatever happened to reading for fun? Just to get the joy out of the riveting experience of the plotline? Why should I have to dissect everything? Sure, it’s fascinating to learn the mother, Addie, only has one chapter (after her death) in As I Lay Dying, but why am I responsible for finding out why?”

And that’s why I’m not an English major.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still get the joy out of writing. I’m actually beginning to get the joy back after taking most of the summer off of writing. The negative effects of being a literature major are wearing away, which is awesome because I’m beginning to remember how much joy I took from writing in high school, before the whole English major thing started.

And, currently, I recommend On Writing by Stephen King. This book is freakin’ fantastic.

It Just Takes Faith

2009-10-19T08:51:00.000-07:00

The boyfriend showed me this last night. I though it would show it to you since I find it pretty funny. It's in those "I'm a Mac, I'm a PC" style commercials.

Writing on the Edge

2009-10-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

I just realized that the whole theory to life is, "Ask and you'll find out if you'll recieve."

It's actually, "Wait and see if the opportunity presents itself."

I met with my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) group today to discuss semantics. We worked out two days every week to meet and where we were going to meet. Our ML (Municipal Liaison) had lots of great ideas of where to meet or contests we could have and I can already tell that I am going to like these ladies a lot. I'm a little sad that we don't have any males in our group right now; I'm hoping that putting up posters around school and an article in the newspaper might do the trick but I'll find out this week whether or not the university is ok with me doing all of that. We're all really excited to start and I actually forgot that it was the middle of October, not November. *claps hand to forehead* Silly me!

What I just discovered, however, was that I actually get to go to the one event that I was SURE that I wouldn't be able to attend this year. The NaNoWriMo Night of Writing Dangerously on November 22 in San Fransisco costs about $200, which I don't have and which is supposed to be sponsored, something I doubt I'll have happen. Anyway, if you get the $200 to go, for $300, you can bring a guest. One of the women in my group has really bad night vision and wanted to know if someone wanted to pay the guest price (of $100) and go in on driving her down to San Fransisco so that she could go. I totally jumped at that opportunity. I'm positive I can scrounge up $100 (compared to $200) somewhere to have an amazing 6 hour novel-writing experience, complete with a buffet dinner, a chance to get a professional author's photo, and conversation with TONS of other writers.

So there you have it. My month (which has been awesome due to HvZ, Writer's Conference, and NaNoWriMo) has gotten even better. I cant wait for November to start.

So Over Jobbing

2009-10-17T09:53:00.000-07:00

It's not what you think.

I didn't give up. I didn't look at it and say, "It's never going to happen." I just realized that, in order to get a job here, you need to have a flawless resume, an open schedule, connections, and a ridiculous amount of time and effort to keep looking. None of which I have. I didn't come to this conclusion just by watching the job market or by searching. It was when a friend of mine, who has been looking for a job for over a year, finally found one that gets her late night shifts and a ball of frustration. It was when someone I'm very close to got a job almost just-like-that because he had a certain job over the summer, which he got due to a certain job during the school year.

You have to have connections.

As it is, I've begun to fill up my schedule and plan for my schedule for next semester. And, as it currently stands, I don't have time to get a job anyway. My time is taken up by school, the newspaper, the HPA, and (more importantly) I need to keep up with working on my novel. In California, if you want to get into grad school, you need to not only have straight A's in every class, you need to have extra curriculars that make you look good, and none of this spells "job" in it. And it's sad because I sometimes feel useless being jobless, especially when I take out to loan to guarantee myself that, if I need to have a little extra money to buy food, it's there. Especially when, back home, I had a stable job for 5 years and never worried about money. Now I worry about it all the time.

That said, last night I had the most important interview of... well... my life so far. It was to work during summer orientation next year, which is probably the best job any student can get at this school. It makes between $2500 and $3000 just in the months of June and July, which would hopefully cover me for August. This job would definitely open doors for other jobs on campus next school year and it would give me a reason to stay here during the summer in my beautiful apartment when it's quiet and all the other students have left. I would love this job. I've been looking forward to signing up for it since the summer because I know I would love this job.

I've had many people ask me about the interview and I still can't tell you how the interview went. I simply don't know. It was a lot of team building experience, working with other people by stuffing folders, doing introductions, drawing shapes, and answering questions. I tried to stand out, I tried to make myself unique, but there were so many other people who were doing well, it's hard to know. All I know is that I tried my best and, if given the second one-on-one interview, I would fight for this job. A friend of mine who is on the judging panel told me last night that he thought I did well but... it's hard to trust friends, you know? They want you to think well of them, to think that they voted for you. I'll find out next week if I'm only thanked for attending or asked to come to the second interview.

If there's no second interview... I'm terrified to go through the whole job process again next May like I did this May. Applying early, being told that they're not doing summer hiring til after the school year ends, applying after the school year, being told that they've already done their summer hiring...

All we can do is wait.

HvZ Craze!

2009-10-15T19:29:00.000-07:00

With all this talk about zombies lately, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

Well, I'm not really surprised. More stoked outta my skin than anything else.

The week before Halloween, my university is holding a game of Humans vs. Zombies that a LOT of students (and even some teachers) can and will get involved in. Everyone will start out as humans and wear bandannas around their arms and one person will begin as the original zombie, wearing the bandanna around his/her head. The original zombie has to go around campus tagging people and turning them into zombies (they'll shift the armbands to their foreheads), who will then go around tagging more people. They can only attack those involved in the game, of course, and the object of the game is to stay alive. If there is at least one human alive at the end of the game, the humans win. If not... well... Zombieland! Sounds epic? I haven't even told you the best part yet. In order for humans to avoid zombies...

THEY CAN PELT SOCKS AT THEM!!!!

That's right. That's the only way I have to defend myself. And it is EPIC.

The whole thing was started at Goucher College a few years back and, if you watch the documentary at http://humansvszombies.org/, it became a big deal. At Goucher, humans can use nerf guns and socks to stun zombies for 15 minute intervals. They all formed teams and it just brought a lot of people together. I'll be interested to see how big this will get at my university. I'm planning on bringing an extra bag just for socks. I hope I can last the week!

Deadening Experience

2009-10-12T09:07:00.000-07:00

I recently got a new Ipod, a beautiful burnt orange Nano that I think is just the cutest thing in the world.

I do miss my large, 30 gb, video playing Ipod, even after getting the new one. Poor 30gb... after 5 long years, it has been put to rest and recycled for parts just so I could get a discount on a new one. A moment of silence for the old Ipod...

Anyway, as I was driving home from the Writer's Conference the Sunday before last, I had my first encounter with an audio book. I've always been hesitant to try these, mainly because I'm a writer and I truly believe that books are meant to be read, not listened to. One good example is Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. That book is ridiculously long but I sure as heck read the entire thing. (They're also making a television series out of it but more on books and their television shows in another post.) But, I decided to brave it because the drive home is 7 hours long (on a bad day, 6 on a good one) and it's hard for a person to stay awake and alert for that long of a trip. So what do you think I read?

That's right.

I actually own this in paper. I bought it a while ago, but I never seem to get to it. So, enter the audio book and a 6 hour drive, and half of the book read now (or listen to). Here is my assessment:

It's a funny idea. I mean, all who think of Elizabeth Bennett know that she is a tough cookie (as is Mr. Darcy) and it's humorous to think that she could be the main defender of the Bennett family. For the first few chapters, I was hooked and laughing in my car as the poor Bennett girls had to fight off zombies as they wandered into town or discovered that the cook of the Bingley household had been attacked by a zombie during a very large party. However, after a while, it got old. It got old fast. As someone who has read Pride and Prejudice and appreciates the beauty of Jane Austin's work, I found myself wanting to hear more of the story and less of the zombies. I missed many of the interactions between the characters that left me charmed and coming back for more. Also, when the author decided to turn Charlotte (Elizabeth's best friend) into a zombie and described the slow process that it took for her to get into that state, I was done with the book. I didn't care that Elizabeth could stand on one finger or defeat three ninjas at once. The author had thought Charlotte to be such a disposable character that it would be fine to turn her into a zombie! I didn't finish the audio book and, I can already tell you, I'm not going to finish my hard copy either. What I want to do is give that book away. I don't ever want to see it again.

Those of you who have read Pride and Prejudice or other works by Jane Austin... do you agree with me? Beauty shouldn't be toyed with. Apparently, they're making Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters or that might just be a youtube video that they have advertising what it would be like but I really think the author has ruined something beautiful. Shame on Seth Grahame-Smith. You don't get a single star in my book. Nor does Ben H. Winters for doing this:

Disgusting.

I'm There for the Entertainment

2009-10-11T14:59:00.000-07:00

I'm really supposed to be working on my journal article review but I thought I would take a quick sidestep for a moment or two to describe to you all a point of interest, annoyance, and humor that has been growing in my life over the past few months.

"What could it possibly be?" you ask.

Facebook advertisements.

I've been on Facebook for about... oh... 4 1/2 years. Never did I pay any attention to those advertisements that hang out on the right-hand corner of my screen until recently. I'm not sure if that was because in high school (and junior college) I was more of a popular person and concentrated more on what people had written on my page and less on what was on the edges. However, I can tell you with honest that, lately, I look forward to logging onto my Facebook account JUST to see if I can find an advertisement that will trump yesterday's winner. Now, I realize that they tailor these advertisements to fit each person's Facebook page (because they want you to click on them) so I'm assuming that the reason why I would find something like this so particularly funny is because these advertisers think they know me... yet they really don't. So, will all this in mind, let's look at today's top advertisements:

Be An Egg Donor Angel: Financially, emotionally rewarding

I've already talked this one over with my mother. She thinks that getting through college by donating my eggs would NOT be the way to go. "Wouldn't it frighten you to know that you have a kid running around out there?" she asked me. "Naw..." I replied. "It's the good of the cause!"

Chatterberries - Your Wedding and Bridal Network as Original as You: Online bridal network and planning resource guide like none other. Latest in wedding news, fashion, and more.

Wait... when did I say I was engaged? (By the way, stuff like this will start showing up on your page the moment you change your status from "single" to "in a relationship.") What's great about this was that I was able to show it to the boyfriend and say, "See? Even Facebook says that we should get married!" It's a real mood killer, my friends.

Dawn Price Baby: Strollers, gifts, gear, carriers, toys, and more.

Wait... now, I'm supposedly pregnant? How did that happen?

Learn from Jesus: Text "Amen" 2 "Jesus"

Jesus has a cell phone? SWEET! I'll text "Amen" to that!

Libreria Legado: Una repuesta a la necisidad de difundir la produccion intelectual centroamericana al mundo.

I took 3 years of Spanish, none of which I remember. The last time I took a Spanish test was... spring of 2006?

And today's winner?

Track Your Boyfriend: Wonder where your boyfriend is? Suspect that he's cheating on you? Click here and track his location!

Because women deserve the right to be unnecessarily paranoid!!

Dipping My Toes In

2009-10-10T09:38:00.000-07:00

So....I've decided to try it.

I mean... I'm almost 21. Most authors have sent their short stories or poetry out to be looked at and possibly published by now, right?

The idea occurred to me last night as the boyfriend and I were just about the leave Barnes & Noble. I had gone over to the magazines and, just as I was about to bend down to look at Writer's Digest and The Writer, I saw it. The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

And then it hit me. Publishing. I've never tried to publish any of my stories. I mean, sure, two of my science fiction/fantasy short stories are being published in the boyfriend's astronomy book in December but that's not the audience that I want my stories read by. It's only kind of bragging rights for me. Because, when you know the two people who are publishing the book, it's not hard to stick your stories in and it's hard for me to want to go around and be like, "Oh. I'm getting published. Check me out."

I really would like my stories to be read by the audience that is meant to read them. The people who obsess in science fiction and fantasy, just as I do. So, I've gone to the magazine's website, I've looked at their info, I've chosen the story, I've put it into the right format (using Scrivener, which I mentioned in my last blog and which I find AMAZING now that it has helped me so much), and all I really need to do is write a cover letter. Then, I will send it away and cross my fingers. I'm not expecting anything except for a rejection letter (actually, I'll be very surprised if they do publish it), but at least it means I will have taken my first steps towards getting my stuff looked at and getting my name out there. One rejection letter after trying to publish is better than nothing after never trying.

So, ready or not...

New Projects!

2009-10-09T10:03:00.000-07:00

I just found out on Wednesday that the National Novel Writing Month is in November.

Isn't that just EXCITING?

I've always wanted to try and I decided that, why not only try it, but just be one of the winners this year? That would entail writing 50,000 words in 30 days. And it really wouldn't be that hard; I would just have to make sure that I write every single day and don't lazy. It would be a really good way to knock out the second draft of my novel in 30 days. Especially because I reaaaally need to do that. Really. It's time.

Now, I know what you're thinking. 50,000 words! But, if you break that down by thirty days, it becomes 1,667 words a day or approx 3 pages, single-spaced. See? Not really that hard. On some days, I'll probably end up doing more. And the cool thing about NaNoWriMo this year is that there is a new program that they are testing called Scrivener, which basically helps you write your novel by setting it up so you can access everything easily. I have another program like it called Story Mill but, as I test Scrivener out, I really like it a lot. The trial for it for those attending NaNoWriMo this year is longer than 30 days since the makers really want writers to buy it. It lasts from the beginning of October until the 7th of December. If you're attending, you get a 20% discount on the product if you actually buy it after December 7th and, if you win, they'll give you a 50% discount.

I'm so excited. The majority of my school projects are early this semester and NaNoWriMo stops before finals so I can take the time to study for that as well.

Yay!

If ANYONE (seriously, anyone) is thinking of doing NaNoWriMo next month, please let me know. I would be so blessed to have a fellow writer undertaking this with me. The web address is http://www.nanowrimo.org/ . At this exact moment, the site is down but it should be back up again soon and you can sign up! It's totally free and, like I said, you win if you write 50,000 words or more. That's it. And lots of people win every year.

Also, there's a Write-a-Thon that they are having in San Fransisco on the 22nd of November and you have a raise a certain amount of money to attend (will be available once the site comes back up) but this is just general information for all of you. I'm positive that I wont be able to attend that.

Until November... chapter outlines, here I come!!

Party Time!

2009-10-07T21:59:00.000-07:00

October. The month of entertainment.

I can already tell that this month is going to be crazy. What with basically two state-wide furlough days next Thursday and the Monday after Halloween weekend. I mean, seriously, lets give these people more of a reason to drink. If there's no school Thursday, they'll drink Wednesday-Sunday. No school Monday? Thursday-Monday. And here, where it's practically a crime not to party until you forget who you are and where you live, especially on a weekend such as Halloween, you would think that the state would want to limit that. One of my friends told me last weekend that when he started here as a freshman, Halloween fell on a Wednesday. So what do you think the students did? If you guessed that they partied Wednesday night or waited until Thursday/Friday, I'm sorry. You voted wrong. They partied the weekend before and the weekend after. As if school wasn't exhausting enough. I bet they hardly went to class that week.

I found out tat the newspaper today that the university's administrators have been trying to appeal to the state, to convince them that we don't really need to cut out 2,000 students next fall, maybe only 1,000. I think they're also trying to reason about the furlough days but I know their reasoning isn't just about saving teachers and teaching students. It's about the drinking. The more furlough days, making the weekend longer, the more likely we'll find people burning couches in the middle of the street or doing other things that are equally as stupid. And I don't think that they know that I know that they know. Do you?

But back to entertainment. I am really curious to go and see one of the Rocky Horror Picture Show performances that go on every Thursday-Saturday in October. I'm curious but scared to death. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a virgin to the movie and I've seen it 3-4 times and I know that the people you are with while watching it determines how good your experience will be. However, I am a show virgin. Every year it happens in my hometown and I really want to go see it but I am scared to death. They would mark my forehead with a large V and stick me in the front row, where I would be susceptible to all sorts of harassment.

But I think I might just brave it this year.

After all, it couldn't be that bad.

Right?

Career Crisis

2009-10-06T11:20:00.000-07:00

The boyfriend noted something this morning that I thought was worth mentioning, "I've noticed that many people who go to college overshoot their ability levels and end up trying for a job that they'll never do."

I totally agreed with him, especially in the health field. Sure, it sucks to be disappointed when all you've ever wanted to do was be a nurse but if you need a GPA of 4.0 and you're only at 2.5, it's going to be a little difficult to get there. It's not bad to change your mind if you know that the goal that you're shooting for is a little bit too high. I'm living proof of this, since I changed my major from literature to health and everyone (even my ex boyfriend) was shocked and called me out on it. But I knew what I wanted and what I could handle and I wanted to write but I couldn't handle literature. I still feel that being a literature major takes a lot of the fun out of reading. Sure, you want to know things about the theme of the story and about the characters but analyzing every little bitty thing? Not for me.

If I could, I would write full time. If I knew that I couldn't fail. This reminds me of something Christian said at the conference, "Writing is a full time job. When you do it, you do it every day and you get paid for doing it. Hopefully, anyway." But you cant just write and expect to get somewhere. Many classic novelists had jobs while they were writing, such as being an editor or a scientist or some laborious day job where the only time they had to come home and write was at night. So, of course, I might end up like them. Working the day job until the night job takes off with something special.

As Christian said, there's no way of knowing whether you're going to get published. You just have to keep trying. "Someone will eventually like your work," he promised. "But you have to keep searching for that person." Then, when a girl said, "I'm 18. What are my chances of getting published?" he laughed and replied, "More likely than mine! Americans told me I was too European for them at first and had to publish outside of America, in Europe, before anyone took interest."

So, I know I might have the GPA for it but I'm not trying to be a doctor. I may have the smarts but I'm not shooting to be a physicist. Why? My hand is stretching in a different direction, one that is less likely to happen but one that I want so badly to take hold of. I'll keep with my day job and push at my night job. Because I know something that many my age don't: if you have a back up plan, no matter what, you are sure to succeed. You will always have something to fall back on. And, of course, that is where Health comes into the picture.

Just Sharing

2009-10-06T11:19:00.000-07:00

I had to do this picture on Adobe Photoshop last week for one of my classes and I was proud of myself for making it look somewhat decent. It is for this reason that I will share it with you:

Back to Living in Ink

2009-10-03T23:48:00.000-07:00

I am very sad that the conference is over.

I have a few regrets. I regret that they didn't have any classes on fantasy writing. I regret that I was not awake enough this morning to appreciate the Dialogue seminar (even though it was just ok, anyway). I regret that the keynote speaker, Christian Moerk, didn't have another talk. These, of course, are things that I couldn't have changed, even if I wanted to.

However, I appreciate sooooo much after this conference. I appreciate the Point of View versus Point of Narration class because it made me think and end up asking another author for advice on the subject that a professional editor was giving my group. I appreciate the time during the lunch hour that I got to speak with Christian, to get to know him a little better. I appreciate my Complex Characters seminar because I can work on creating my characters in the close 3rd person, something which I'm struggling with.

I want to give you all tons of stories from the conference but it will just have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I am tired and I need to get to bed asap to start the long, 7-hour trek home. (I"m happy about this, however, because I bought Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to listen to on audiobook on the way home so I can get a good laugh for 7 hours.) I hope you all can wait until then. I promise to relate many stories of Christian and the seminars and the people that were there. There is so much to tell.

But for now, goodnight.

And a special thanks to my grandparents, who made this whole thing happen.

Day 1

2009-10-03T07:38:00.000-07:00

The first day (or night, as it was last evening) of the Central Coast Writer's Conference was AMAZING!!!

To start off with, I got to see a ton of people that I knew. My best friend's cousin, a friend from church, a former instructor and a very good writer friends. Also, the key note speaker was AMAZING! His name is Christian Moerk and he is from Denmark. His new book, Darling Jim, is pretty popular now, so if you look him up, I'm sure that you'll find it. He was witty and sarcastic, all that you could want in a good author. He called people out on dumb questions and answered the good ones in good humor. Most of all, he gave good pointers and he was very firm about the fact that you need to write every day. I felt that he was the best speaker I've seen in the 3 years that I've been to this conference.

Then, my good writer friend and I skipped off to the lecture of the night. The one we had signed up for was about story structure and, I am happy to say, I am going about outlining my novel the right way. According to the author who was instructing us, there are seven steps to outlining a basic story, seven steps that all stories have:

1. The weakness and the need. The weakness can be based off of the need, such as character lashing out due to their unawareness of their need.
2. Desire. This needs to be deeply connected with the need of the character in some way. The character knows of his or her desire but not of his or her need.
3. Opponent. This cannot be the character; normally it is some tangible force that the character is struggling against.
4. Plan. This involves how the character is going to go about defeating the opponent and achieving his or her desire.
5. Battle. This is the big finale, and can be resolved with an actual action or just words.
6. Self Revelation. This normally takes place during the battle when the character finally realizes his or her need.
7. New Equilibrium. This is the ending, how the character ends up. It could be anything from happy, sad, not getting the need, getting the need, dead, getting what they want but not being happy, not getting what they want but being happy... the list goes on and on. Every book needs this.

So, what was cool about this was that I was able to outline this in all three of my main characters. Since my novel is told in three perspectives, all three characters have to have their own need, weakness, desire, opponent, plan, battle, self revelation, and new equilibrium. I know what all of those are now!!!

This is turning out to be a VERY benificial conference. I'm glad I came.

Well, off to get coffee and get ready!

Status

2009-10-01T20:45:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the Writer's Conference. Woooopppppeeeeeee!!

Can you tell I'm excited?

After a looooooong 7 hour drive, I am home at my mom's house. And I am exhausted.

Yet, I am still going dancing in 15 minutes.

This is gonna be a wiiiiild weekend! Haha!

Valuable Lesson

2009-09-30T20:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my Drugs in Our Society teacher had a speaker come to our class.

The woman who came also brought her husband for support and, before the talk even began, I found out why. My class already knew that their daughter died from alcohol poisoning last December, so this was a very fresh topic. What we didn't know was how completely amazingly eye-opening the talk would be.

After a short slideshow of her daughter and her daughter's favorite songs (which definitely got me teary-eyed), the woman came back in and began to tell us about her daughter. She told us how her daughter was full of life, good at everything, and popular with everyone, but down to earth. She told us that, 5 days before Christmas, on the first day of spring break, her daughter had gone to a friend's house. They drank a lot and they drank it quick. After a short while, her daughter got sick and her friends left her next to the toilet in the bathroom, thinking that she would be fine. They found her at 9am the next morning, unconcious, and we unable to revive her. She died not long after.

The woman told my class that she had learned out of the whole ordeal that alcohol poisoning is something that most are not well informed of. Drinking and driving? Sure. Blackouts? Of course. But alcohol poisoning is just not as commonly talked about. She knows this because her daughter died of about 8 shots of 80 proof vodka.

She put it into perspective for us this way: "This is a drink," she said. "One class of beer is about 8 ounces."

"This is a wine glass," she said next. "A typical glass of wine is about 4-5 ounces."

Then she picked up the shot glass and stared at it. "This is also one drink," she told us. "One shot of hard liquor is about an ounce."

"The problem is getting people to understand that the one shot of liquor is exactly like the glass of beer. Each is one drink. However, it is much easier to do 8 shots of vodka than it is to drink 8 glasses of beer."

This really hit me hard. About two months ago, Jo and I were bored one night and decided to play a little drinking game while watching one of the Star Wars movies. The deal was that every time Anakin said "Jedi Knight," we would each take a shot of tequila. About 7 shots into the movie, we decided to end the game and I am ridiculously glad that we did, now. It scares me that a shot or two more could have put my life into a ridiculous amount of danger. I know that I'll probably never do anything like that ever again after knowing this. If a 5'6" girl weighing only 107 can die from 8 shots of vodka, I can die from the same amount, if not just a bit more.

The woman and her husband aren't trying to teach people to stop drinking, just to drinking responsibly. I know that I definitely will from now on. I hope you do too.

Human Sexuality

2009-09-28T21:57:00.000-07:00

There are some very dumb people in this world.

I realize that my Human Sexuality class is a GE class and that most students taking it are freshman or sophomores. I'm not, though. I'm a junior. I'm taking this for my major. I am genuinely curious about the human body and how it works. I am excited to find out about what drugs do to your brain. I wish I wouldn't have to read a textbook to find out but it interests me. So, when people ask me truly dumb questions, all I want to do is ask them if they went to high school.

For example, before my first major Human Sexuality test today, a girl (not blond and I'm not stereotyping) was asking some of us to give her some of the answers on the study guide.

Girl: Do you know what andosperm is?
Blank stares all around me.
Me: It's male sperm.
Girl: And gynosperm...
Me: Female sperm.
She stares at me like I've just shocked the poo out of her, so I decide to explain.
Me: You know. 'Cause the guy produce both sexes, xx sperm or female sperm and xy sperm or male sperm. It's the guy's sperm that decide whether or not the baby is going to be male or female.
Girl: Wow... how do you know so much?
Me: *blink blink* Uh... well... I... uh... took a lot of science classes in high school.

And I really only took physical science, biology, and chemistry but SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE? Not knowing that the whole reason why women need men is because of their sperm to complete the whole baby-making and gene/chromosome deciding process? Seriously??

I am dumb-founded.

Caffeine Machine

2009-09-28T09:59:00.000-07:00

Me and my Pepi... we go way, way back. I don't remember the days when I wasn't sipping that sweet, sugary goodness, hoping to stay awake for another class. So when I heard the words "the government might regulate caffeine" in my Drugs in Our Society class, I had to dig deeper. I needed to know: would I be regulated as to how much how soda I'm allowed to drink in a day before "intoxication"? Are they going to tax soda even higher then they already do? Since I'm not a coffee drinker and energy drinks mess my already excitable system up, I'm incredibly curious to know what they will do to soda.

According to an article by the Wall Street Journal (linked and posted here: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970203674704574328322293679870.html), the main regulation that people are encouraging for is the mixing of caffeine and alcohol.

"Proponents of tougher regulation are calling for everything from outright bans to warning labels stating that mixing caffeine and alcohol could carry health or safety risks. A primary concern of the groups is that caffeine and other stimulants may mask feelings of drunkenness, which could lead users to act recklessly, such as driving while intoxicated."

Of course, me being the brilliant person that I am, I had no idea what-so-ever that they put caffeine in alcoholic drinks and the other way around. It makes sense, though; people love to play with things they shouldn't play with. I totally agree with this regulation, especially because it is mentioned later on in the article that the risk of accidents people get into due to alcohol rises with the addiction of caffeine. It freaks me out how people take so many risks on alcohol. Did you know that the more you black out, the more often you can black out? It's a pretty scary fact.

However, alcohol aside, I'll turn to another article (http://www.cypnow.co.uk/inDepth/ByDiscipline/Education/936907/Health---dangers-caffeine/) by the NCB (National Child's Bureau) about just caffeine in specifics. It appears, from the looks of this article, that they are thinking of just putting regulations on energy drinks. (Whew!) This is because of all of the young people now (in high school, especially) who are consuming a ridiculous amount of energy drinks. I supposed I don't have to tell you this, though. You probably have either tried, currently use, or know someone who uses energy drinks for that extra kick or to "party like a rockstar."

"Phillips believes some young people are using the drinks as "a legal way to get high". He says some teenagers see the drinks as a cool status symbol, because their packaging resembles beer or cider cans."

Well... no. I went to a high school where energy drinks were cool but I think it's a bit of a stretch to suggest that they're like beer cans. Now, if the kids were "cool", they could convince one of their older friends to buy them one of the alcoholic caffeine drinks and really find a way to get high. These are drinks that keep you awake in class; why wouldn't high school-age kids drink these drinks? Many of them, such as Amp (in my opinion), taste like soda (Amp tastes like Mountain Dew), so that's a plus.

Although, some do taste really nasty, and I can't imagine how people can choke them down. Monster for example. I just shudder to think about it.

"He has witnessed young people suffer from twitching, paranoia and aggressiveness as a result of caffeine drink consumption.

"'They cannot stop their actions because they are suffering withdrawal symptoms when trying to limit their intake, so we have been treating it as an addiction,' he says."

Ok, this really made me think of a website (http://www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine) that I stumbled across one day that I need to share with everyone. This will involve hours of fun. No joke. You write down your weight, "pick your poison", and find out how fast how many caffeine drinks of the brand could kill you. I'm a lightweight so, for example, after talking about Amp, it would take 104.65 cans of Amp to kill me. On the other hand, it would only take 47.57 Pitt Bull Caffeine bars to kill me. Scary, huh?

Seriously, though, I realize that this subject is actually quite a big deal. If you didn't know, caffeine is a legal drug and should be used with extreme caution. It is highly addicted and I know people who are strongly addicted to it. I've had teachers who come to a 9am class with a half-consumed can of Cola in their hands. I've even struggled with it, especially when I have to wake up after only 6 hours of restless sleep and attend an early class. It's very tempting to down just a can at 10am, then another around 3pm, and maybe finish off with one around 8pm to keep me awake to study. I don't do that (because I would go into water withdrawals if I drank 3 cans of soda a day) but I'm saying that it's the thought that's there.

If you've never heard of the story, there was an energy drink called Spike Shooter that came out a couple of years ago that had very scary amount of caffeine in it. On the can, if you even bothered to read it, it says that kids under 16 shouldn't drink it and, when consumed, the person should only drink half of the drink at one time. This drink ended up hospitalizing several teens because drinking an entire can gave them heart palpitations. I looked it up on the Death by Caffeine site and this one could kill me in 26.16 cans. That is VERY scary.

So, watch what you drink.

But, those of you who drink soda, you have no worries about being regulated. Or even dying. Because, if it really would take me 206.55 cans of Pepsi to kill me, I'm going to keep guzzling like nobody's business, baby.

The Part I Am Greatful For

2009-09-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

I had this blog all written out about a part of my life that I wish would disappear.

Then I watched this video.

I have seen this video at least ten times and, every time, it reminds me why I am a Christian. I'm going to stop caring about what I want to disappear and focus on why I'm glad that I'm here and how I remember who I really am.

Please watch this video. It's amazing. It certainly changed my life and it really confirms why Lifehouse has been my favorite band for the past 4 years.

Please God... let it be a cold...

2009-09-25T22:03:00.000-07:00

I read the same article over and over for an hour before I realized that I hadn't gotten anywhere.

I feel nauseous. It might be because Jo's mom took us to Red Lobster to dinner tonight and I haven't had rich food in... months.

It might be because I have the flu.

I also feel exhausted, which makes me grumpy and irritable.

But... oh God...

Please let it pass.

Barely Awake

2009-09-24T23:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Jo's 22nd birthday. It's so funny that he's now two years older than me and he's been able to drink legally for a year. We went to a fairly expensive sushi bar with some good friends who love sushi as much as we do (and it's hard to find a good sushi bar in NorCal because you're far from the ocean) and Jo tried sake for the first time. He loved the hot sake but, of course, he's a lightweight (as am I), so he felt the effects right away. I actually had a tiny sip of it, but it was kind of cold by that time. I liked it but I still would have liked to have tried it hot. 3 1/2 more months until I can!

I also had a job interview yesterday.

I've needed a part-time job for quite a while now. I get just enough money from the government to get by; however, if any of my friends want to go to a movie, I'm scraping the barrel for every last dollar. In reality, I only need about 12 hours of work. An extra $150-$200 a month would just be fantastic! If I got this job, I'd be working at one of the front desks at the university, assisting students on how to get places on campus. I could do that! 5 years of customer service experience right here! I think the interview went fairly well and, supposedly, I'm going to find out if I either get a second interview or just get the job or didn't get anything on the 1st of October, the day I'm driving down to the Writers Conference. So, I'll either be coming home to my mom with a "yaaaay!" or an "awww... darn."

We'll just have to wait and see.

I keep thinking about the conference, which is literally a week a way. I know that I have articles to edit this weekend, a chapter to finish for my class (yes, we finally get to FINISH the chapter in my Computer class), and a Human Sexuality test to study for but all I want to do is write. I've written the Prologue and the first part of Chapter One, but, other than that, I'm finding it hard to find time to write this week.

However, I've been debating on posting a bit of my prologue here. What do you all think of that idea? I'm mostly afraid that someone would steal it.

I've also discovered that I am tired all the time now. I never thought that was possible but it's true. I'm pretty used to it now and the only time when it ever consumes me is in the morning. For example, I got up at 9am this morning, ate a bowl of cereal, and then sat back down on my bed to write a blog entry. At 10:15am, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of total exhaustion and could barely keep my eyes open, so I set my laptop aside and laid down, thinking I would close my eyes for just a couple of minutes. I woke again at 11am and got up to do some chores before Jo's mom got here. And then it was go go go from then on, working on my Human Sexuality study guide and studying for my Statistics test. I just don't seem to have time for anything until 11pm, unless I try to get some writing in during the middle of the day. It's sad.

This aside, I was shocked to learn that my university's health center ordered 1,000 flu shots and they ran out in just 2 days. Being a health major and in the health professionals club, that's just awesome to me! I cant wait for the H1N1 shots to come out so I can get myself vaccinated.

8 days until Writers Conference!!

Slightly Scary

2009-09-21T10:01:00.000-07:00

I have little word processor called a Neo that I've been carrying around quite a lot lately. It makes me feel like a true writer whenever I bring it to a friend's house and get the "What the hell is THAT?" look from everyone else sitting there with their laptops.

To me, it's better than carrying around my MacBook because I can work on my novel and not get tempted to get on the internet. Not that I would know how to get online with the thing even if it did get internet (and some models do but I chose the less expensive, more practical one). I discovered that I have no clue how to work the thing last night after writing the beginning to chapter one - draft two (*little jump of excitement*) of my novel and hitting command-N to name the document. I named it... and then it suddenly disappeared from the screen. Oh my gosh, I thought to myself. I killed it. It's gone. What have I done? Two great paragraphs, a half an hour worth of work... I looked up to tell someone how horrified I was and then saw four boys (including the boyfriend) playing Super Smash Brother's on my friend's N64 and decided to keep it quiet.

Instead, I did the smartest think I could think of: hitting command-*insert letter here* with every letter on the keyboard. Something was bound to recover TWO PARAGRAPHS that I had written. I already knew that I couldn't remember what exactly I had written, so what could I lose, right? It wasn't until I hit command-O and started scrolling down that I miraculously found out that I can name documents and save them in another place on my Neo!!! My heart did leaps as I saw my document and my two paragraphs were recovered. Thank God.

I also ended up recovering this little poem. I must have written it ages ago but, reading it now, I feel that it is the obvious reason why the government wants to put a restriction on caffeine (which I'll talk about some other time). Anyway, here you go, for your enjoyment (and my humiliation):

Ode to My Pepsi

Oh –

That brown liquid that I cant get enough of;

The sweet sensation,

Burning and stinging as it slides down my throat,

Tingling my tongue,

Fizzing as I set down the bright blue can.

It loves me dearly.

From the moment I’m struck with that first sip

To the last gulp, shaking and draining the can,

A beggar for every last drop.

I’m addicted, just like my mom;

Although she tries to hide it

By not buying it in six-packs or large 40 oz. bottles

But, never-the-less,

It somehow ends up in our refrigerator.

We have a grand history, my Pepsi and I.

I loved it from the first sugary drop;

It always leaves me wanting more,

Never am I satisfied.

It cools my warm palms on a summer day

And, in turn,

I buy it in mass quantities:

In bottles,

Cans,

And, just like my mother,

Dumping it in tall glasses,

Never daring to drink without ice and a straw,

It will never leave me,

Nor betray my love,

Always with the same tangy flavor,

My addiction.

My Pepsi.

Not Horrible At All

2009-09-20T23:43:00.000-07:00

On Friday night, Jo and I went to the local theater to see a live production of my 2nd favorite show by Joss Whedon (creator of "Firefly"): "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog."

I was a little skeptical about how the production would turn out. The mini-show came out on the internet in July of 2008, when the writers were on strike, and it was a mega-hit at the time. I have the music and the DVD, and I considered getting some goggles as well to look ready for the show but, unfortunately, there wasn't enough time (or money) for that. So, we went in, hoping that the actors would be able to pull off Nathan Fillion's "Captain Hammer," Neal Patrick Harris' "Dr. Horrible," and Felicia Day's "Penny."

It went a lot better than expected! The guy who played Dr. Horrible was pretty good and his singing was decent, but I did miss Neal Patrick Harris' little quirks that he put into the character. The music was a little wacko during the show, so he was able to pull off the song without the music for a couple of seconds. My favorite song of his was definitely "Freeze Ray" because all of the people pretending to be in the laundry mat kept pulling out odd articles of clothing, such as a pair of booty shorts with "juicy" written on the back and a bright pink thong. He also was able to pull of a little reaction that Neal Patrick Harris had forgotten to pull off in the original, which impressed me because I knew they had watched the extras on the DVD!! I was, however, very disappointed when he didn't pull out my favorite line in the entire first act:

The guy who played Captain Hammer, on the other hand, had the role down pat. The entire audience cheered when he rode in singing, "A maaaan's gotta a do what a maaaan's gotta do... Seeeems destiny end with meeee saving you." He knew just when to look arrogant and how to switch from that to the sweetest expression he could muster when Penny looked at him. Nathan Fillion would have been proud. He also had two hysterical moments, one that was meant to be funny and the other one that was an accident. The first was when he looked Dr. Horrible in the face and said, without smiling (props for this): "The hammer... is my penis." The audience cheered and laughed and, somehow, he was able to keep a straight face. The second was at the end of the show. There were these people dressed all in black like ninjas who did little prop changes while the actors were on stage and one was hiding in the corner at the end of the show. As Captain Hammer yells, "Mommy! Someone maternal!" he pushed a podium off stage and, in the same whiny, crying voice, says, "waaaaaah.... waaaatch ouuuut niiinjaaaa..." Yea... you would have had to have been there. It was so funny, though, that it took Dr. Horrible a couple of seconds to recover and continue with the show. (I love Nathan Fillion's grin in this picture...)

The girl who played Penny threw me off at first, mainly because they had deviated from her stereotype as the skinny girl with red hair that the beautiful Felicia Day is; however, I really liked that looks wasn't a concern. She had a really great singing voice, especially for "Penny's Song." She especially pulled off the awkwardness between Captain Hammer and herself pretty well. This picture below is Penny and Dr. Horrible in his song, "Freeze Ray."

All in all, the show was a really good interpretation. It did make me want to come home and immediately listen to the soundtrack with the voices of Neal Patrick Harris, Felicia Day, and Nathan Fillion.

So, if you haven't seen this, I would recommend Netflix-ing it or something. It's only 45 minutes long but it is a beautifully planned plot line. Joss Whedon was able to give the characters distinct personalities and the actors were able to make those personalities shine. And, if you're not going to see it, at least watch this clip and tell me what you think:

35 Things I Have Learned So Far...

2009-09-17T19:01:00.000-07:00

Today is one of those days. One of those drink two Pepsi's in a row days. One of those come home and munch on a bag of popcorn days. One of those listen to 3 Doors Down because that's the only thing that will make me feel better days. One of those body aching days, where everything hurts, mentally and physically. One of those days where I come up with a list of things I've learned in the four weeks that I've been at a 4-year-university days because I'd rather do that than muster up enough energy to rant about my ridiculous week.

So here it goes.

1. If your parents are divorced, everything is way more complicated. This includes university and non-university stuff and you will have to deal with it weekly.
2. If you don't feel like you want to collapse of exhaustion by the 4th week, you're either not taking enough classes or involved in enough clubs because, by this time, everyone is saying, "HOLY CRAP!"
3. Use your friends who have been here longer than you. Seriously. Use them for job opportunities and for finding a good place to hang out when you're bored and for financial aid/study abroad/ect. information. Use them!
4. The moment that you think something is a big issue, it probably is just a small one in diguise. And the moment that you find that out, you will feel very frustrated.
5. You could fill every inch of your schedule and still find time to hang out with your friends. (For ex: one of my friends is taking 27 units and is in debate and the other is taking 19 units and works 30 hours a week and we all still have time to hang out somehow.)
6. If you bike to school every day for 4 weeks and decide to take the bus on a sunny day, when you really don't need to, you will feel very stupid waiting for the bus after class and seeing all of your friends bike past you to much farther destinations than where you live. Especially because in the 1/2 hour that you have to wait for the bus to show up, you could just walk home.
7. By the 4th week, if you haven't taken out a loan, you will, and if you have taken out a loan, you'll be asking for more money.
8. No one needs to go out to have fun. Staying inside and playing old school N64 for 4 hours can generate quite a bit of laughter.
9. Don't you dare do anything wrong near campus or on campus. Especially riding your bike on campus. Police are ruthless. They will ticket you for a meter expiring only 2 seconds before you get in your car, riding your bike on the wrong side of the road, not having lights on your bike at night, putting your lights on wrong, a "California stop," looking at them wrong, crashing your bike, riding upside down, sideways, and backwards, and anything else you can think of.
10. However, they will NOT ticket you if you're not registered under the state of California. Confusing?
11. The response to asking questions in the student center will only lead to this answer, "It's on the website. Did you check the website first?"
12. Even if a job is posted, don't expect them to hire you. Or anyone. Many times, they'll just decide to close it and just run overload with their current staff instead.
13. If you forgot your cell phone and have to ask someone for the time, they will look at you funny.
14. If you don't have your cell phone out during class, you're not cool.
15. The people who say that they hate texting during class will be doing it 5 minutes later, guaranteed.
16. If you're standing in financial aid, deciding on a loan, and say, "Let me call my mom," they will look at you funny.
17. Anything involving calling parents more than once a week (and you have to react to it painfully) is taboo and people will look at you funny if you mention that you talk to your mom every day. (And enjoy it.)
18. There are some teachers who want to be there and some who don't. Those who don't will either be every funny (due to sarcasm) or mean (hatred of the system, the students, and their small income) and those who do will either be funny (and you might enjoy the class) or mean (they enjoy watching you work your ass off to get that A). There is no middle ground.
19. If you're doing a group project and have a problem, try to work it out before you go to the professor. Chances are, he wont know how to help you either.
20. The classes that you think are the most relaxing will probably have the most homework due the last two weeks before finals.
21. Administration likes the student to get exercise. They achieve this by giving the student a little nugget of information and smiling as the student runs around campus, trying to figure out what to do with that nugget, before crawling back for more information and trying the process all over again.
22. There is never any parking. Day or night. Weekends? Don't think so. Holidays? You've gotta be kidding.
23. Students will use any excuse to drink. Holiday. Beer pong! Weekend. Beer pong! Stats test the next day. Beer pong! Bad day. Beer pong! Car battery exploded. Beer pong! House on fire. Beer pong!
24. Assuming this, you will find parties on days Sunday-Wednesday, not just Thursday-Saturday.
25. For some students, there is no definition of a weekend. Every day is their weekend.
26. Biking every day = about $20 spent on gas every two weeks to fill your tank up 1/2 way. At first it seems like a god-send. Then, you'll even begin to despise spending that much.
27. It is strange if anyone visits you in the first 2 months of school starting.
28. WinCo is the K-mart/WalMart of food stores. Use it. It is your best friend.
29. If your pantry isn't stocked with rice, mac and cheese, and ramen, you have too much money.
30. Cable is superfluous. Don't waste money on it. Everything you could ever want is on high speed internet (for cheap)!
31. Your university will either have more or less school spirit than your high school. If less, you will miss football games from your high school days. If more, you will laugh at the people who were previously mentioned.
32. The term "dumb blond" does apply to some people. You will meet those people.
33. Playing the Sims 2 is not cool when you are in a group of friends who enjoy War Hammer, Diablo, and Star Craft. Playing Sims 3 is iffy.
34. If you couldn't find people like you in high school, you will certainly find them in college.
35. Apple cobbler fixes everything.

So, this is the list I've combined so far. I might add more later but, for now, I cant think of anything else I could add. I bet YOU probably could, though, so feel free to comment with what you've learned at your own universities.

Valentines Day

2009-09-15T10:51:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was talking to a friend of mine about poetry that we used to write in high school. It seems to that a lot of people in high school write poetry and I've never really been able to figure out why that is. (I know why I wrote poetry but a few of my friends, who couldn't even put a simple story together, could end up writing some of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read.) I'm assuming that, due to raging hormones in high school, poetry was written as a release from all that.

This reminds me of the fact that I'm finally going to be done with high school this year, once and for all. I know what you're probably thinking: "you're in your 3rd year of college; you've been done with it for a while!" However, that's not quite true. As a senior in high school, I experienced something that I hadn't experienced in about 3 years: being single. One of my best friends who had graduated the year before had been bugging me to "take on a freshman" or guide a new one through the craziness that is high school. Surprisingly, I actually took on this project and I say that it's surprising because I had a huge resement against freshmen at the time. My boyfriend of 3 years (who was a senior) left me for a freshman. Never-the-less, I sort-of accidentally became friends with this girl and she is finally graduating this year. I talked to her the other day and it hurt my heart so much to hear all of the high school drama that I'm finally over. I could only assure her that it would be over soon and she could start over in life.

Anyway, back to the topic of the first paragraph, I found on my myspace (which I can't believe I still have) a poem that sounds a bit like residue from high school. Since it's fairly decent poetry, I thought I would share it with you all.

The Most Mocking Holiday of the Year

I say I'm content with everything
My friends, my family
They hear me
Content with everything
My school, my work
They see me
Content with everything

And there, looming ahead, you lie
Taunting, twirling, with your red, pink, and white
Dancing and mocking, never leaving my sight
Until I am not content with everything

You laugh and you play, making my each step heavier
As I hold out my hand to you;
Brushing the bare edges, my fingertips rejoice,
And then you move away.
I am left with nothing.

You stand before me, in your pink and your red
Holding what I want, flashing what I desire
Commercialized now
Visual affection, according to the media
And I don't want it…
But I do.
Not the candy, the cards, or the gifts
But you.

You may loom ahead but I
I sit instead
Turning a blind eye as you mock me openly
And I allow myself to hide
Just for one day
I hide from you

In the darkness, then, you return to me
Colors shed; I feel your cool touch on my face
Your smile prickles my skin
And I know you have returned to me once again
Returned to my heart
And I am comforted.

What's Your Life Made Of?

2009-09-15T00:16:00.000-07:00

I sat in the back seat of a car Saturday afternoon, staring out the window next to me, tuning out the blasting "scremo" music and hanging on to the handle of the door as the guy driving the car blasted down the street, racing his friend next to him. The guy in the front passenger seat made faces at the driver that we were racing and the guy sitting next to me was quiet, saying nothing. I assumed he wasn't pondering the same thing I was.

What was on my mind was a line that my friend had pulled on my best friend and I on Friday: "You two must either have low standards or love each other for no reason."

Love, I thought, struggling not to fall to the left as we turned right. What does he think love means? Was is this? Speeding down a street, laughing as you cut people off, making stupid jokes, after seeing a mediocre movie that only 4 people out of a group of 16 liked? This might be fun but it certainly wasn't love.

My two best friends came into town this weekend and wanted to meet the people that I hung out with. As per usual, it didn't go very well. One isn't a geek (and I hang out with mostly geeks - hence the D&D) and the other one is very shy. However, the one thing the three of us have in common is that we love one another despite our many differences; we see past everything to the true beauty that shines beneath. I don't know how many people can say that they can do that. Although we made have our bad times and our fights, although we live 10-15 hours away from one another in any direction, although our hang-out experiences maybe mediocre, we still love each other's company.

Living here, away from my best friends and my family, I realize how the college students view the best times of their lives. It is the times when they had the most fun. In this town, it's drinking. Today, I was ashamed to read an article that was specifically meant for the new students of this town. It described a typically Thursday in the life of this college girl and it basically went like this: beer pong (8-11pm), alcoholic tea(11-12), shots and beer(12-2), and more beer pong (2-4? 6?). The girl writing this article described these years of drinking every Thurs-Sat night as the best years of her college life and that she felt young doing all of this.

Myself... I can't imagine throwing my weekend nights away on black-out juice. The best times in my life have been spent with the ones that I love: giggling with the girls, watching a movie with friends, doing homework next to my boyfriend... I find it so sad that people don't really appreciate those things in life. They want their next high or their next buzz or their next... well, you get the point. This is why I don't drink or do drugs. I'm trying to appreciate the things that matter.

Do you?

Momentary Discomforts

2009-09-08T13:43:00.000-07:00

Today was Jo and my first trip to the vet with Esther.

We were as scared as two new parents could be. She's been doing this weird thing with her left eye where she will sit with the right one open and the left one closed. This also wraps into our other theory that she is partially blind. She has always been very clumsy and it tends to affect her eating habits. For example, we feed her meal worms instead of crickets because she cannot catch a cricket even if her life depended on it. She might catch two out of five/six and then just give up because the other three/four were faster than the first two. As you can probably tell, this is not good for a gecko. If she had belonged to a family who decided to let her go in the wild, she would probably die after a very short amount of time.

The vet was very kind to us. He explained that since reptile eyes are so much different from dogs or cats, it's almost impossible to tell whether or not they are blind. He suggested that, if she's always been this clumsy, then it's possible she could have always been partially blind or just have sight problems since birth. He also explained that lizards have horrible depth perception, which is why she occasionally tries to take a suicide leap when I let her run around on my bed. He weighed her, he measured her, and he checked her eyes and mouth. She became quite peeved with him at one point and opened her mouth very wide, which indicates that she's pissed, and he soon put her back down after that. (She allowed me to pet her for about 5 seconds and then turned away, as if to say, "You're responsible for this as well.") After the short check up, the vet came to a conclusion.

My poor little gecko is suffering from obesity.

We left shortly after that; I was in a bad mood because Jo was doing all he could to torment me. "Megan spoils the little girl," he taunted. "'She looks hungry, Jo. We've got to feed her!'" And, of course, I'm trying to stay away from arguments, so it was all I could do not to explode and say something like, "You fed her too!"

Thankfully, though, that's all that's wrong with her. I'm grateful for this. If she had been impacted or had something horrible such as mouth rot, we would have left with an enormous bill. All we have to worry about it that she gets more exercise and less food. Silly thing.

Also, before I end this blog, I would like to note something silly that I just did. I have been searching for my Bible for the past 3 months, since I started living here. I've looked through boxes and drawers and bookcases but I couldn't seem to find it. 3 months. I was ready to buy a new one, a nice one (which I still might do). Then, today, Jo walked in the front door of my apartment, looked over at the top of my stationary rack, and went, "Uh... Megs..." There sat my Bible, in the one, most obvious place that I had never thought to look. Yay for brunette blond moments!

Dreams of the Past

2009-09-07T20:38:00.001-07:00

I love walking into used bookstores.

Normally, I head straight for the fantasy/sci fi section to see if they have any new David Eddings books that I have not yet read (and I found one today that was originally $27.95 hardback and sold used for $6.50!) Today, however, I headed into the children section for a trip down memory lane. I absolutely adore looking at the books that I used to read, the books that changed me into the person that I am today. Most of them were magic, of course, such as Half Magic, which my mom used to read a chapter of every night before my sister and I went to bed...

The Tales of Chrestomanci, which I discovered on my own (and would recommend to anyone)...

and, my favorite, the Roald Dahl Treasury. I used to own this book but it got lost somewhere and I've never been able to find this again. This is sad because it is something I would love to share with my future children when they get to the age to appreciate the beautiful insanity that is Roald Dahl's genius. (I will pay anyone who finds this book and wants to send it to me!)

Then, of course, I went down into the fantasy/sci-fi section.

When I look at these books, I feel revived again and I wish desperately to someday be one of their number. I would like to publish a book that is unique, one that people will read for years to come.

By the way, my mom discovered the most interesting video that I've ever seen. It's pretty steampunk, although I will mention that it isn't what my book is exactly going for. It's a little sad but a great video. Hope you all like it!

Changin' My Ways

2009-09-05T19:24:00.001-07:00

Today is marks the first day of my "addiction" project for my Drugs in Our Society class.

The project is sort of like the one that I did last semester in my Woman's Health class, where I take some part of my life that I'm not fond of and work on it. This project is specifically something that I am addicted to that I want to change about my life. Some people are going to try to stop smoking; others are going to stop drinking caffeine (which is what I attempted to do last semester and it didn't work out so well). I, however, am going to try to stop arguing.

Stop laughing.

All of you who know me well, I know that you're rib-cages are probably just bursting at the thought that I'm actually going to attempt this feat. I have a bad temper. Yes, I know this. I'm a lot like my father and I love to win arguments. I know this also. However, I have a boyfriend who despises arguing and almost always refuses to argue with me. This will be safeguard, my corner stone.

Although, when I told Jo, he thought this was just as funny as you probably do and told me, "I wont even give you a week." My goal for this week is to prove him wrong.

So yes, this is Day 1 of that. And this project is going for about a month. I will keep you all updated on my progress.

On other news, I have decided to Steampunk my novel.

For all of you who don't know what Steampunk is, it is a mixture of the Renaissance Era and the Industrial Revolution, a time torn between the era of beauty and romance, and the beginnings of new technology, such as clockwork and steam powered machinery.

Airships, steam powered technology, but still with the hint of fantasy and renaissance dress. I've always been fascinated by this type of fashion and lifestyle, and a friend of mine (whom I play D&D with) has suggested more than once that we try a Steampunk D&D group. (Airships! Yay!) I would gladly partake in that!! Anyway, this just means a lot of research but a lot of fun. Especially if I could dress up in Steampunk at some point while I wrote the novel. (Maybe I'll get a group together to dress up and debut my novel.) It also works really well for the storyline that I'm writing because it's just the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, so some things are "in" and some things "out."

Anyway, that's all that I can give to you about the storyline right now. I'm still a fantasy writer but I'm getting more into the sci-fi stuff, so I can't ignore it completely in my novel anymore. (Also, it doesn't help that I'm dating a scientist who helps me with basically anything that I want to know regarding science and technology.)

The Writer's Conference is only a few weeks away!!!

An Odd Take

2009-09-04T22:42:00.000-07:00

I was going to tell you all about the protest that is going to take place on Tuesday, the first California mandatory furlough day of the semester; however, I think that blog will do further justice on Tuesday when I (hopefully) attend the protest.

So, on a different note, I'll start with this thought:

There are some memories that never die.

This was brought up in my human sexuality class on Monday. We were discussing love, the different types of love and your "LoveMap," which are the traits that your subconscious finds attractive in other people, when my professor just so happened to mention that love can be a very strong bond. Especially when it's your first love.

People shun high school relationships as something temporary, and mock their endings, when both sides are left bleeding. People laugh at the love that children feel for one another and shoot it down, saying that it can't be true love because they are only children. How can they know what love is, right? But, truth be told, they are experiencing their own version of love, which is the strongest emotion their minds can comprehend at the moment. There's even been studies done on it. So I have to ask, why don't those same adult's who criticize a child's "puppy love" mock the love of college students? They're just high school students a few years older. Or why don't grandparents mock the love of adults? They're just full-grown children. What do they know of love, right?

Heck. We might as well mock all love in America. It means nothing with as high as the divorce rate is these days.

I suppose this is why I found the video that we watched in my Human Sexuality class uninteresting. It dealt with love and how we find love, our LoveMap as it were. With all the divorces this day and age, telling people that they should get married just based on love just makes me want to laugh. The end of the video, however, was all about arranged marriages from the perspective of those who are in them. I found this interesting because those people actually preferred those marriages and said that, if they had the option, they would rather choose to have a marriage arranged than actually to arrange one themselves.

This is because the people in arranged marriages base their marriage on trust, obligation, and duty, instead of just love. "Love isn't important when you first get married," one man said. "Love comes later." Surprisingly, because of this, the two people learn to trust each other more because they aren't blinded with those romantic feelings. According to these people, their relationship works better that way because, as one person suggested, "You have a lifetime to get to know someone. You're never going to know them completely when you first get married."

Now I know that you all know my second biggest fear is marriage because of my parent's divorce. However, this video gave me some hope. If I can, someday, get married and build a marriage upon those foundations (including love, of course, because a marriage needs love), then I have a better change of staying married longer. And my fear of marriage should begin to shrink.

Instead of ending this on a "I'm all hopeful" thought, I'd like to ask you all a question. What is your LoveMap? What are the things that you for in a person personality-wise, physically, ect that make you go "I need to walk across the room just to talk to that person"? Everyone has their own LoveMap. What's yours?

Budget Sucks Life Out of Education

2009-08-28T08:59:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-08-25T11:28:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-24T18:09:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-22T15:42:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T15:07:00.000-07:00

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.

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

2009-08-20T16:25:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-19T14:06:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-17T23:06:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-16T10:34:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-12T13:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-11T09:46:00.000-07:00

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.