a vestige of thought...

I finally broke down today and saw a doctor about my wrist. This is mostly because Heidi, my violin teacher, told me she wouldn't give me a lesson unless I did. So I went to the doctor and he pushed and pulled and poked and prodded my wrist until I thought I might faint and then told me that [he believes] I have DeQuervain's Tenosynovitis. (Try saying that three times fast. I've yet to get all the way through it once.) If I understand correctly, this means that the tendons that connect my thumb to whatever they connect to (that's not in the 'leg bone's connected to the hip bone' song) and the membrane they slide through are irritated, which is what hurts. He gave me a bigger, more bulky brace than the last one I had. It holds my thumb immobile as well as my wrist. Unlike the last one, I can't hide this one in my hoodie pocket. Ach.

Fortunately for me, it's a rather mild case. Still, I can't play violin for at least two weeks. That means that I'm going to miss both the BAYSO and the Finneytown holiday concerts and I will be unable to play in church this week or next, as I was supposed to do. *sigh* Ah well.

In nearly every way I am perfectly content with my finantial position in life. The only time I ever wish that I had more money than I do is when I start looking at the arts. It would seem that to regularly attend shows, one has to be either rich or very well connected. I would love to go to every musical, ballet, symphony/pops, and theater performance that I can find, but tickets are so darn expensive! And do you know what really depresses me? If I didn't have to pay for this stupid orchestra trip that I'm being guilted into going on, I could pay for nosebleed tickets to over TWENTY shows! *sigh*

Ever since I was a tiny violin-squeaker and church children's choir member I have wanted to see a Broadway musical (that was not performed by high school students). Sadly, I have yet to do so. I have sworn to myself, though, that before this year is through I will go see a show at the Aronoff, even if I just buy my one ticket and go down there by myself (my parents assure me they would be ever so glad to accompany me if I were to buy tickets for them, but this is quite unlikely). I'm definitely going to see Wicked in March and, if I'm lucky, I want to go see Phantom of the Opera as well this December. I will, I say, I WILL!

The following are the 25 most played songs on my iPod. Many of these I have listened to multiple times purposely, but I'm rather convinced that my iPod is biased and playes certain songs more frequently than others when I set it to random. I find that it is inclined to play Thousand Foot Krutch much more than, say, Josh Groban. The length of time each song has been on my iPod also affects it's place on the list. As a result, this order is probably not what I would have predicted.

1. Chant- Michelle Tumes
2. Let it All Out- Relient K
3. For The Moments I Feel Faint- Relient K
4. Hallelujahs- Chris Rice
5. Collide- Howie Day
6. The Time That Is Left- Mark Schultz
7. Happy- Matthew West
8. How You Remind Me- Nickelback
9. Love Leaves Its Mark- Trevor Morgan
10. Lullaby- Jennifer Joy
11. Last Words- Thousand Foot Krutch
12. New Design- Thousand Foot Krutch
13. Circle Up- Chris Rice
14. My Prayer- Chris Rice
15. Blankets- Andrea Summer
16. A Lack of Color- Death Cab for Cutie
17. You and Me- Lifehouse
18. The Hand Song- Nickel Creek
19. The One I'm Waiting For- Relient K
20. Beauty from Pain- Superchick
21. Transatlanticism- Death Cab for Cutie
22. Closer to You- Mark Shultz
23. Out of My Hands- Matthew West
24. My Finest Hour- Matthew West
25. I Am Understood?- Relient K

Recently downloaded song that I imagine will soon be in the top 25: For Good- from the Broadway musical Wicked.

A Proclamation by the President of the United States of America

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God... No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civic strive in which we are un avoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

Happy Thanksgiving. I am thankful for you and you and you (the three people I know of who read my blog) and you (plural, for any who read my blog that I am unaware of). "I thank my God every time I remember you." (Philippians 1:3) And honestly, I do! (Though not just because you read my blog.)

I believe my wrist is starting to swell and I really ought to go see a doctor. Somebody yell at me, please. I need to just go and get it over with. It's not that I have anything against going to the doctor, it's more just that I don't have one. My first doctor retired, the second moved to North Carolina, and a third (who I never actually saw, though my parents did) started a private practice that requires a membership fee of $1500 a year, not including the higher than normal visit fees and such. I'm a doctor jinx-er. Ugh.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the father of compassion and the God of all comfort."

I am very grateful for the God of comfort mentioned in the verse above, but I am learning more and more that the God of comfort is not the God of being comfortable. Just think of all the people in the Bible that God called: Mary, Moses, Abraham, Job... the list goes on and on. Many of God's chosen were taken from a good situation and put in a difficult one. None of them, certainly, were immediately called into a better place, at least by the world's eyes.

I know that Andrea's suggestions (more than suggestions, really) for SIC this afternoon were not well-received by all. This is probably because they were not what we wanted, not what made us comfortable. But sometimes we need to be shaken up a little. When we're uncomfortable, we have to trust God (and not ourselves) with what's going to happen next. His will is more likely to be done that way.

It's pretty obvious to me that SIC in its current format is not working. I agree very much with Andrea when she says we need to get back to the basics, to scripture itself. It's not as if we will never again speak of our personal lives or be able to vent about whatever. I fear that our group was becoming too much a venting group, though, and often forgot to make God the center of it. You girls know I love you very, very much. I hope that these changes and transitions will not discourage any of you from taking part in the group. Change usually means that God is doing something. I hope that all of you will stick around to find out what it is.

I have started a new blog specifically for my poetry. You can find it here.

I have decided that it is completely inappropriate and horrible to require employees in fast food and many other work venues to wear nametags bearing their first names. There is absolutely no reason that Joe Blow out there needs to know my name. 'Miss' or 'ma'am' will be perfectly sufficient for the stranger who needs to get my attention. I really do hate it when strangers call me Christy. Especially creepy ones. "Thanks, Christy (sly grin)" *shudder* They get my name all dirty in their mouths and I feel the need to take it back and scrub it clean again. Many [most] people, I'm sure, only wish to be friendly, but I still don't like it. Had I been born a hundred years ago, such strangers would have called me 'Miss Humason.'

There is a freshman girl in my Lit class, whom, for our purposes, we shall call Sarah. Nearly every week, Sarah makes some comment about how girls do this-or-that for this-or-the-other reason, and nearly always I am amazed at how clear her perception of herself (and all girls) is. Certainly I know the things she says are true, and always have known, but I would never think to put them in such a clear and simple way. I told her she should write a book about girls not only so that guys could understand us, but so that maybe I could understand myself.

A few weeks ago someone from another class was supposed to come take our picture for the Learning Tree yearbook, but no one showed up. After class, Sarah mentioned to me that she was glad no one came because she hadn't worn any make up that day and her face was "breaking out" (though if she hadn't stuck her forehead in my face, I never would have noticed). She then paused and said that really, she had eyeliner and mascara on, but "that doesn't count" as make up, for whatever reason. The whole time she seemed so insecure. I wanted to show her a picture of herself (as I have felt with so many girls) and say, "Look! Look at how beautiful you are! You don't need make up or sexy clothes or fancy jewelery. You are amazingly beautiful!"
Why is it that so many people, girls especially, can see beauty in everyone but themselves? If there is one message I want to live out it's this: You are beautiful! Stop comparing yourself to others. Stop trying to make your outside perfect by covering up who God made you to be! Don't neglect your appearance, certainly, but there is more to you than your outer shell! Stop faking it and concentrate on being genuinely you. You are already beautiful. Show it in your confidence and your character!


**I apologize if that was a bit preachy. This is something I feel quite strongly about!

Much is happening in the Humason house, though some things are certainly more interesting than others. Here is a brief overview of said events from the perspective of yours truly:

• Our living room has become the family room and the family room is now a school room (though both rooms are still called by their original names). The computer is still in the family room as are the dogs' crates and the treadmill, but we have added the piano, some tables/desks, and additional bookshelves. The TV and entertainment center has been moved to the living room, along with the couch and one chair (the original living room couch and chairs have been donated to a worthy cause somewhere). All the once family room/now living room furniture has been recovered and redecorated. Apparently Mom finds a purpose to all this rearranging, but certainly I do not. Now there are very few options for those of us who wish to be in a place where we can read and not be interrupted by sounds of the television, one can no longer watch television and chat on the internet at the same time, and Lisa is pretty much the only person to use the school room, so it seems to me to be wasted space. But alas, I am not in charge here. I just give suggestions and follow directions. Plus, I was gone while all this rearranging was being arranged.
• My adventurous cat Mia found her way outside a few days ago and was missing for about 6 hours. My parents apparently found her outside in the ivy on the side of the house and brought her inside. I was not home during this ordeal either, a fact for which I am very grateful as I would have been a wreck.
• I applied for a credit card (so that I can make online purchases on my own card, rather than paying my parents) and was declined basically because I don't have a credit report. Of course I don't have a credit report! I've only been old enough to hold a credit card for 3 months! How does one develop a credit history if no one will give hem a chance to prove hemselves? (Hem=heir only different (subjective case vs objective case, but that's for another time).) So I'm basically stuck in a catch-22 and perhaps I will be paying my parents for stuff until I'm 50.
• It's cold outside. I have stocked up on tea and related products so as to be prepared for whatever weather is went my way.
• My mother is convinced that I have carpal tunnel syndrome in my right wrist. I am not as convinced (I don't have any numbness or tingling in the hand or fingers, just pain in the wrist when I bend it and/or put weight on it). In any case, since the old brace of my dad's that I've been wearing off and on for a couple of weeks has done no good, Mom bought me a very gung-ho wrist brace that I'm supposed to wear all the time for a couple of weeks and then at night and when typing for awhile. Yuck. I can only type with one or two fingers on my right hand (it's incredibly frustrating to have to type so slowly!) and using a pen is rather difficult. Ah well. I am very grateful that I didn't break it and can take the brace off for things such as playing violin.
• I discovered a little while ago that there was a huge, disgusting amount of mildew growing behind my bed (where the solid head of the loft bed faces the wall). My fantastically wonderful father spent part of today scrubbing it all off. In case redoing the family and living rooms wasn't enough, I'm probably going to have to change my room around so that the head of the bed isn't facing an outside wall (where condensation can build up behind it and, without enough air flow to dry it out, grow more mildew). Thankfully, even with such a huge amount of mildew, the room never smelled!

And that's the way the cookie crumbles.

Just in case you don't have any real human buddies to talk to, you can now talk to AIM Bots: AI robots that will tell you information about movies or music or pretty much whatever else you might want to talk about ("my old boyfriend dumped me, can I call you Bill and pretend you're my new one?"). And AIM puts them on your buddy list automatically, which I find to be quite in invasion of privacy. I'm having difficulty putting into words how pathetic I think this is. I mean sure, AI can be entertaining, but having robots added to my buddy list without even being asked is a bit unsettling. I deleted them. And AIM, don't you try it again. I have human friends to talk to and I'm perfectly capable of looking up movie info on my own, thank you very much.

On a different note, it snowed today. I'd been so caught up in the beautiful fall weather we've been having that I forgot it was the middle of November. Christmas is just around the bend. Windy Gap is a month from today(!). I can't say as I'm looking forward to winter, exactly, but I stocked up on tea yesterday, so I'm at least perpared.

What makes

It is a cruel fate that keeps me up this late on a Sunday evening. I am finally finished with all my homework, only to find that I am not even tired. This probably has to do with the can of Mountain Dew I drank at youth group. I don't even like Mountain Dew. I will be tired, I know, by tomorrow morning. But right now I'm enjoying the peace and quite of my dark, sleeping house. I'll probably regret it tomorrow. I know I will. But now I'm awake and my mind is going full speed and I feel like I could write for hours. I won't though. I'll go to bed and get up in less than six hours and go to orchestra. I guess. Goodnight.

I am not a huge fan of poetry that lacks meter and just about anything else that generally sets writings apart as poems (rhyme, alliteration, etc), but for Literary Analysis I had to write a poem (actually, it's extra credit) in a fashion similar to that of Frank O'Hara in A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island. I did not particularly care for this poem, though others in my class did ("It spoke to me..."). But I suppose that's a matter of personal preference. Anyway, here is what I wrote:

I heard the whisper early one morning; and again,
softly,
that night, from the case in the corner.

"“Remember when you really played?
When your eyes read
more than notes and your fingers
ressed more than strings and your hand
pulled more than a bow?"

"“Yes, I remember."

"“So do I.
You played more than music. It was
passion and grace,
you'’re audible heart."

"“But I still play,"” I said.
"“Every day,
nearly.
I still play."

"“That book you hold; yes, the blank one-
there.
It stole you from me. What you used to say
through me, you say in there, with
empty, insufficient, words.
Why?"”

"“I-"

"“You are frustrated. Your words,
long and lavish, pretentiously preposterous,
are a false echo of my song: too silent to express
your soul. Don'’t
forget me.

I am here so that you
may make music of emotion
when words of feeling fail."

Decisions get me all stressed out. I'm not good at choosing things. Thankfully, my college decision was much easier than anticipated! Here is why I have chosen Asbury (in no particular order):

• I was completely comfortable on campus. I was not nervous at all the whole weekend, which is unusual for me. I was surprised to discover how outgoing I could be. I only knew only one person, who I didn't see much of this weekend, but by the end of my stay there were familiar faces everywhere.
• The girls in the hall I stayed in were fantastic. They took me in immediately and made me feel as if I'd been living there as long as the rest of them. I was amazed at the feeling of community there. The dorms themselves were also amazing. They are by far the nicest I have seen in all my college visits. I just knew that I could feel at home there.
• I attended three classes and at the beginning of each the professors introduced themselves to me and then introduced me to the rest of the class. Several of the students in the classes remembered me and came up to me later in the day to chat. In classes I have attended at other colleges I was all but ignored by both professors and students.
• Chapel. I did not plan to go to a Christian college. In fact, for a time I was completely against it. I wanted to get out of my Christian bubble. However, it has become clear to me in the past couple of years (especially through Cafe and such) that God has designed me to focus on encouraging and building up fellow Christians rather than leading non-Christians to Him. Getting an education from a Christian perspective and going to Chapel, where I can make sure my focus is in the right place, will help me tremendously with this.
• When I visited a few other colleges I began to dread college a bit less, but Asbury is the first school to actually make me excited about it.
  
• And the number one reason: I remember distinctly the night in 8th grade when I participated in my first homeschool drama (A Charlie Brown Christmas). As I was leaving that night, I felt this incredible peace (probably the only peaceful moment of my 8th grade year, in fact). It was as if God was saying to me, "This (homeschooling) is my place for you." I had that same feeling in Chapel on Friday morning. I'm applying at Transylvania pretty much because Dad says I have to apply at more than one school, but I absolutely cannot imagine going anywhere but Asbury.
  

I've been tagged. I've never heard of this trend before, but apparently it's quite prevalent. I'm supposed to type five things about myself. It seems that, since I have kept a blog of some sort for a rather long time, I have already posted many more that five things about myself. But perhaps these things were not obvious enough and I need to spell them out more plainly. In any case, here we go:

Five things about Christina Marie Humason

1. I love jelly beans. Even the black ones. Jelly Bellies are the best, but Starburst ones are also excellent.
2. I dislike the short story "A Good Man is Hard to Find," by Flannery O'Connor.
3. I think cats are highly superior to dogs.
4. I am angry at Levi's for making their blue jeans bigger because now the size that fit me perfectly is too big and the next size down is too small.
5. I have worn some kind of orthodontia since I was seven. My first ortho was really weird and I probably could have waited longer to start, but without all of it I would have had to have jaw surgery.

I now tag Heather, Kelly, Brandae, Becca, and Scott.

I'm off to go watch a play. The happy college admissions counselors gave me a free ticket and all the students are jealous. Bwahaha.

This place is fantastic. I love it. I'm staying in a room with two girls (Tina and Lauren) who are amazing. We had such a blast last night (even though we were up until 2!) Because we were up so late I decided not to get up for breakfast at 7 or the first class at 8. My hosts didn't have class until 1, so they slept in, but I got up and went to a class at 9. Basic Latin. At 10 was chapel (very cool) and then I went to another class (creative non-fiction) at 11. At noon I went to the "prospective" lunch in the Grille where I met a very cool English professor and talked with her for awhile. I'm currently in my hosts' room killing time. I opted not to go to any of the 1:00 classes. Instead I went to the bookstore and got a sweatshirt, stopped back here to check my email, and am on my way to wander the campus for a bit (maybe check out the library). Have a nice day!

After my violin lesson this morning I drove to Kenwood (since I was out in that direction) to pick up my paycheck. It was only about 9:30 when I got there, and the checks weren't ready yet (apparently my boss is at least as much of a procrastinator as I). This made me rather depressed, as I was very nearly broke and didn't want to have to wait until next week to cash my check. To cheer myself up, I wandered into the very cheery, Christmas-decorated Starbucks on the other side of the food court. I planned to get a chai latte with my last three dollars, but one of their specials caught my eye: a pumpkin spice latte. I am very fond of all things pumpkin (pie, bread, candles, etc) so I decided to give it a try. It was very good and, to my delight, not very coffee-ish at all. I have decided that Starbucks' success rests mainly on the fact that, while they do have "real" coffee drinks, they provide very sophisticated fake coffee drinks for people, like myself, who prefer the image of drinking coffee to actually drinking the stuff. There is something about Starbucks, so I think, that makes one forget they are in the middle of the suburbs and think for a moment that they may be in Manhattan. Perhaps, though, this thought comes only from my watching the movie You've Got Mail too often.

In spite of my rather apathetic classmates, I am enjoying Latin immensely. The problem is that, because of my apathetic classmates, we have to spend an excruciatingly long time on each new concept. Since the teacher copies pages from her (out of print) text book for us every week, I can't even work ahead. I can, however, be an over-achiever in applying what I have learned. I have started to write [very] short stories in Latin on an index card every day, trying to make myself fill the entire card with something and hoping that it makes sense. Sadly, my vocabulary, though increasing, is rather limited. My first story went something like this:

Puer est in villa. Est agricolae amicus. Puer et agricolae filius spectant viros in agro. Agricolae femina dat pueris nuntium. Pueri portant nuntium ad viros. Viri laudant pueros.

A boy is in the farmhouse. He is the farmer's friend. The boy and the farmer's son watch the men in the fields. The farmer's 'woman' (I'm hoping this can also mean 'wife', as I don't know the word for 'wife' yet.) gives the boys a message. The boys carry the message to the men. The men praise the boys.

Look at how much shorter the Latin is than English! It's so much more efficient. Just think of the trees we could save if everyone wrote in Latin!

*Eat More Chicken, according to the 2006 Chick-Fil-A coupon calendars. Apparently this is "pretentious Latin." :P

I took a lovely picture of myself this morning pointing to the cute little sticker on my shirt that said "I Voted Today!" but when I brought the camera downstairs and attempted to transfer the picture to my computer, the camera wouldn't turn on. My camera has been sick for quite awhile. New Mexico proved to be quite fatal to it, I believe. But that's beside the point. The point is, I exercised my right as an American citizen and voted today! Yay. I voted in a different precinct than my parents, because their address was wrong in the record book. I voted before they did, and when they went they had to fill out change of address cards. Dad said he thought it must have been the most interesting thing that happened at the polls all day. Apparently the old people who were working there got incredibly excited about it. Hehe.

On a different note, you may have noticed that "Oatmeal for Breakfast, Part I" was never followed by "Oatmeal for Breakfast, Part II" This is because my moment of inspiration passed and I got bored with the story. Hopefully no one was too interested in it. The actual point of the story (yes, there was a point) was to discretely introduce my new word. It is the third person singular, neuter pronoun: heir. You'll notice that this word is a combination of "his" and "her" and is also "their" without the 't.' 'Heir' is to be used in circumstances such as the following:

Students at a certain school are getting tired of sharing lockers. School officials have done a horrible job assigning locker partners, and no one can get along. The student council creates a proposal that would allow each student to have their own locker. But wait! "Each" is singular and "their" is plural! This grammar is incorrect! The grammar police are already on their way! What shall we do? We could replace "their" with the grammatically correct "his," or the grammatically and politically correct "his or her." But "his" is not desirable, as it leaves out the "hers" that would like their own locker (notice that "their" is correct here, as "hers," though not really a word, is plural). "His or her" works, but creates a feeling of excessive wordiness. And so we turn to 'heir.' This word, used properly, would look like this: "The student council created a proposal that would allow each student to have heir own locker." It's that simple!

And now, I need your help. I can not alter the English language to fit my own purposes on my own. I need you to discreetly use 'heir' in your school and work papers. Sneak it in wherever you can. At first people will perhaps not notice it, or maybe they will think it simply a typing mistake. But we know better. Slowly but surely, 'heir' will creep into regular use of the English speaking population. It takes an average of 10 years to get a new word into the dictionary. Join forces with me, and by 2015 we can make the English language a little bit more logical. ;)

Since I decided to drop debate at the Learning Tree, my co-op day now ends at 1:30. Lisa has classes until 2:30 and Scott until 3, so I've started to drive separately and leave early. Recently (especially since the weather has been so nice) it has become my practice to stop at Winton Woods (since I drive through the park to get home anyway) and sit by the lake for a little while before going home. Sort of my "me" time for the week.

At 2ish in the afternoon, the park is populated by me, some elderly couples walking around the loop, and a whole slew of ducks. The ducks are fantastic. I could sit there watching them for hours. This afternoon there were even more ducks than usual, and they seemed to be sitting around watching one particular crazy duck. This duck was out in the middle of the water presumably attempting to catch something to eat. He would sit very still for awhile before beginning to flap wildly and diving into the water. Shortly after that, he would pop back up, still flapping, and dive in again. It had to be one of the goofiest things I've ever seen. After flapping and flopping several times, he would give up and begin calmly preening himself. Occasionally another duck would swim out to him and quack hesitantly. The crazy duck would then start quacking hysterically and I swear it sounded like maniacal laughter. While I sat there watching, this whole process went on three or four times. It was quite entertaining. You might want to look out for crazy ducks, though. They may be conspiring with cats to take over the world.

On an unrelated topic, here is an amusing website by a lady who scams Nigerian scammers. She gives them a taste of their own medicine, so to speak. Enjoy!

I love this time of year. Autumn is fantastic. The leaves turn pretty colors, the air is cool and pleasant, and all the annoying bugs die. I also love this time of year because it brings about the annual Hootenanny Down on the Farm. This year about 65(!) high school students piled into various cars and vans and drove down (over, really) to the Glasgo's farm for dinner, cornhole, flag football, and a big bonfire. There were even fireworks this year. It was great.

Ever wise Caitlin says:
"Do you ever think it's weird that you can't look at yourself without a mirror? I mean, wouldn't it make sense for you to be able to pop your eyeballs out of your head and turn them around so you could see yourself? But I guess then you'd only ever see yourself without eyes... That might be gross."

It always amazes me how Bible verses will suddenly pop into my head at appropriate moments, even if I didn't know that I had them memorized. Tonight I lay on my back and looked up at the stars for a long time, and this verse came to mind: "Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing (Isaiah 40:26)." What an amazing God we serve. He's bigger than all my hidden agendas and all my selfishness and all my stuff. Wow.

A week has past since I announced my intention to give Blogger a trial run. I have decided that Blogger is, indeed, better that Xanga, or at least it is for my purposes. Since I have received replies to inqueries from only the two people who I knew would read my blog wherever I posted (indeed, probably the only two people who read my blog at all), I have decided to switch. From now on I shall post here only.

I have long suspected, and it has now been confirmed by several radio personalities, that "fun" size candy bars are just not that fun. Most people I have talked to agree that a larger bar is much more fun than "fun" size bars. Therefore, I have a proposal to make for the benefit of the fun-ness of the American people as well as the pocketbook of candy companies: Why not market the regular sized candy bars as "Fun" size, the smaller bars as "Not-Quite-As-Much-Fun" size, and the large ("King Size") bars as "Definitely-the-Most-Fun" size? If this were the case and I were in mind to buy a candy bar, my thoughts during a trip to the store might go something this:

Where the heck is the office supply aisle? Pasta, canned sauce... no wrong aisle. Who decided we needed a bigger Kroger anyway? I knew where everything was before. Dog food... no. Popcorn... baby stuff... half-off Halloween supplies... wine, no that's too far. Back up. Ah, there are some backpacks. Perhaps they put office/school supplies by the backpacks. Backpacks, posterboard... birthday cake? Why is the birthday cake by the backpacks!? Oh! There we go, school supplies. Black pens, black pens, black pens... There! Five dollars? I'm not spending five dollars on a few pens. Ah ha! Ten black BIC "crystal." $1.39. Excellent. How convenient of them to have put the school supplies right next to the candy aisle. I imagine little children often wander over here and beg their parents for candy. Yum, I love Milky Way Midnight bars. I probably shouldn't buy one... I want to go to Smoothie King before work. Aw, what the heck. Just a little one. There- "Not-Quite-As-Much-Fun"...? Not quite as much fun as what? Oh, as the "Fun" ones. Ha. That's a pretty dumb thing to put on a candy bar. Reach for "Fun" candy bar. What's this? "Definitely-the-Most-Fun." Hehe. Maybe if you're looking for a stomach ache or want to become one of those 1,000lbs people who never leave their house and have to have their doors ripped out of the frame to get them into an 18-wheeler so that they can be transported to the hospital where they have to be put on a bed indented for walruses and put on a strict diet so they can have surgery that will allow them to weigh only 700lbs, but their skin will still be all stretched out and gross... On second thought, maybe I don't want a candy bar after all.

The teenage years are exciting in that new privileges come with each birthday. Except the final teenage year- 19. Of course, I don't turn 19 for another 8.5 months, nor am I in a particular rush to finish being 18, but it occurred to me recently that turning 19 is boring. Observe:

age 13- You're a teenager! Hurray! You throw have a big birthday party to celebrate the fact that you can now only order off the adult menu at restaurants, you have to pay full price at places like the zoo and the museum, and you can go to PG-13 movies by yourself.

age 14- You can now get a job! Child labor laws prevent you from doing pretty much everything, but you can get paid minimum wage for standing at a cash register (during certain, regulated hours) and taking people's money!

age 15- You can rent a pedal boat from Winton Woods and go out on the lake without an adult. Bwahaha. And in a mere 6 months you can start driving!

age 16- Sweet Sixteen. This year you can get your driver's license, do a lot more stuff at work, shop at the dollar store without an adult, and probably some other stuff that I'm forgetting.

age 17- You can get into R-rated movies by yourself. (I intended to do this once during my 17th year, but never got around to it.)

age 18- You're legal! "Adult!" You can vote and get a driver's license without taking drivers' ed and smoke (though I don't recommend that) and buy lottery tickets and [again] probably other things I'm not thinking of.

age 19- nothing. There's nothing new at age 19. Seeing as many 19-year-olds are new, overwhelmed college freshman, this is probably not all bad. Just boring.

I have good news and bad news.

The good news is that I got an acceptance letter from Asbury yesterday(!). They certainly reply quickly, because I just sent in the application last week! I'm going back down for a preview weekend and to see Heather. Yay!

The bad news is that I'm out of creamer for my tea and I have to endure it with either regular milk or only sugar until Mom goes to the store. Or I suppose I could go to the store myself.

The other bad news is that Scott's getting his wisdom teeth out today. Well, that's not so bad for me, but it's very uncool for him. I'll try my hardest to be nice to him for a few days, though I can't let my sisterly duties slip for too long. ;)

This afternoon I completed filling my 26th journal. And I started my 27th. My new one is incredibly cool, as you can see by the picture on the left. That letter on the cover is the first letter in the Greek word for Christ (I think) and the design is from theGospel of Matthew in the Book of Kells (a Celtic scripture book). The binding is very cool too. But that's beside the point.

Many, many times I have been asked what it is that I write so much about. So I shall fill you in. I write:

• about the days events (often in great detail)
  
• poetry
• about anything that has stuck out to me throughout the day: something someone has said or a movie I watched or a book I read
• letters I don't intend to send (this is a great way to vent anger without making anyone else angry)
• philosophical musings
• prayers
• "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Rom. 7:15. Recently this has taken up a big chunk of my writings. I write about the things that I do or do not do and try to discover my motives behind them. It is my hope that if I can understand why I do things, I can prevent myself from doing them again.
• talks for Cafe
• Bible verses that are especailly applicable to me at a given time
• song lyrics that I like
• inside jokes
  
• snippits of emails or IM conversations
• my reaction to things I have heard, read, or seen
• descriptions
• memories and dreams
• I have other people write entries at sleepovers and camps and such
  
• possible blog entries
• probably a myriad of other things that I have forgotten at the moment

There you have it.

Quote of the day:
Mom: Some guy from Spring Grove Cemetery called today to see if we were interested in buying burial plots.
Dad: Did you tell him to drop dead?