a vestige of thought...

Mom and I went to see Les Miserables at the Aranoff last night.  It was amazing.  I loved it (not surprisingly).  I love Broadway music.  : )  Plus, now I'm determined to finish the book.

That's party of why I'm happy, but not the biggest reason.  I don't want to post about that yet because it's not quite for sure.  Stay tuned.

Ask me why. : )

I've never partucularly been fond of needles. I'm hesitant to say I'm actually afraid of them, but I have a definite aversion. I used to be able to watch the doctor give me shots. It didn't phase me in the least. As I think back on it, there are a number of factors that have contributed to my current and growing dislike. The first of these occurred when I was ten. Four days after my birthday I went to the doctor for a physical where I was given three shots and a TB test (where they stick you in the forearm and make your skin bubble with some strange liquid). When I walked out of the room my vision blacked out and I guess someone carried me to a room where they gave me some Sunny Delight and an extremely ugly green, oddly shaped puke bucket that would have been much too small if I actually had thrown up. Two years later, when I was in 6th grade, my life skills teacher told the class about how- while sewing her wedding dress- she sewed through her hand and had to go to the hospital to have a sewing machine needle removed from her index finger. I still cringe thinking about it. After that I used the sewing machine for the shortest amount of time required to pass the class and have avoided them ever since. Today I went to the doctor to get the physical required for starting college. I had a total of four needles stuck in me and it was great fun. First they drew blood, which I've never been wild about (but I've never actually had to do it before). Later I got two shots (one in each arm) and a TB test. Once again I very nearly passed out, but managed to avoid it. Two nurses carried me to a room where they made me lie down and gave me apple juice and a South Beach Diet breakfast bar. Now I just have sore arms. And a very strong dislike of needles.

I must be all grown up now. Last time I got a shot I got a Snoopy bandaid. This time all my bandaids were brown. How sad.

Life is... less simple than I would like it to be. I wish it were May 21. No- actually I wish it were the end of August. Here's to trying to survive each day between now and then.

Hopefully a real post soon.

Please, someone remind me that I'm not a completely pointless lump of carbon. Starting this week, off and on through May 20 and then for 3 months until I leave for Asbury I am basically a Chick-Fil-A robot. It's not a bad job. In fact, I like it most of the time. But... it's selling chicken. Selling chicken takes the brain activity of a Milk Dud. BO-ring. Also, I hate suggestive selling. A month ago it was adding lettuce and tomato to a CFA sandwich. I can handle that. Now it's cold slaw. I strongly dislike cold slaw. Plus, it's horrible for you. It's like I'm encouraging people to be fat. I don't like that. Half the time I want to yell at peope for ordering such unhealthy meals. There is a guy who regularly orders a #7 plus cheese, value sized with a brownie. That's a Chick-Fil-A sandwich with cheese, a large fry, a large sweet tea (in this case) a cold slaw and a brownie. That's 2000+ calories and nearly 90 grams of fat, if I remember correctly. Gross! I guess I just need to get used to it. Mom tells me I will. She should know, as she worked at McDonalds for a few years. Would you like fries with that?

A few hours ago I held a book from 1761. Seventeen sixty-one! A book of sermons. It was amazing. I also got to look through a collection of other books, most of which were 100-200 years old. Some of them were in German. It was excellent.

"Every so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in"

*sigh*

This morning at church there was an artist set up at the back of the stage who painted throughout the whole service. At the 9:00 service he painted a picture of Jesus entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and then one of the three crosses on Good Friday. At the end of the service he changed the light that was shining on his paintings to (I think) a blacklight. When he did this the first picture changed to Jesus on the cross looking over Jerusalem and the second, which was mostly black and white and appeared to be during the day, changed to look like dusk with brilliant colors streaking across the sky behind the crosses. It was extremely cool. Unfortunately, my description is not doing the art any justice.

I decided that I ought to read Les Miserables as well.  I didn't realize it was quite so long.  I got it for an excellent deal at Waldenbooks on my break this morning and so far have read 49 pages.  Only 1,414 more to go.  

War and Peace- 1,444 pages
Les Miserables- 1,463 pages

I win.  :)

1. I was going to give a senior recital on May 13th. Just me. I was playing 5 pieces, hopefully all from memory. However, due to an uncooperative wrist, I will not be able to prepare those 5 pieces in time to play them on May 13. This, surprisingly, makes me very sad.

2. Ever since I got rear ended several weeks ago I get a bitter taste in my mouth any time something startles me. Is that weird?

3. A large group of my friends left me today to go to Europe. I'm working on forgiving them for leaving me to work my ENTIRE spring break. One of my managers had surgery today, so I'm working extra to fill in for her next week. Joy. If you are my friend and you ARE still in the country, talk to me.

4. I went to Lisa's dance and choir recital today. The choir was pretty good. The dance part was extremely long. There were three groups who basically just had a half hour class (each) in front of the audience. The teacher is an older woman who has very skinny legs and wore a green, turtle-neck leotard that zipped up the back, and black leggings. I had never thought about it before, but I am now of the opinion that love handles and leotards do not mix. This teacher has been teaching dance for a long time. From the sound quality of the music, I would guess that she's been using the same cassette tape for as long as she's been teaching. (Fortunately, she seemed to be a very good teacher. Even the 3-year-olds knew what they were doing, even if their dancing wasn't as graceful as it will be in a few years.)

5. The church where this recital was had an espresso cafe called "Wholly Grounds." I found this very amusing, although the rest of my family didn't appreciate it quite as much.

6. I graduate in 43 days.

7. I like that my new purse is big enough to carry a notebook in. Now, providing circumstances allow, I can write down my observations as they occur rather than storing them in my brain and more often than not forgetting about them before I get to my journal.

8. I do not get to sleep late a single day of my "spring break."

9. "Remembering, everything, about my world and when you came. Wondering, the change you’d bring, means nothing else would be the same. Did you know, what you were doing, did you know. Did you know how you would move me well, I don’t really think so." (stuck in my head)

10. I'm going to see a for real Broadway show at the Aranoff! It's not Wicked, but I'll settle for Les Miserables. I really have tickets this time. No more "someday, I hope..." : )

11. And that's all there is. There isn't any more.

I am so sick of chain letters/emails/bullitens. For example:

PLZ GO TO MY PARTY
THE BiGGEST PARTY EVER iS WHEN YOU GET THROUGH THE GATES OF HEAVEN BECAUSE YOU'LL BE LiViNG ETERNALLY WiTH GOD!!

98% OF TEENS WON'T STAND UP FOR GOD...
REPOST THIS iF YOU'RE ONE OF THE 2% WHO WILL


Jesus also said if you deny me in front of your friends i will deny you in front of my Father

repost this as "Go to my party"

Somehow I don't think that when Jesus said that he was talking about filling email inboxes and message boards with spam. My goodness, people.

Or this one:

DO NOT OPEN IN FRONT OF PARENTS...5 PPL ACTUALLY GOT KILLED BY NOT SENDING THIS PIECE OF MAIL.THE CREATOR OF THIS MAIL HAS A PROGRAM THAT WILL TRACK DOWN UR ADDRESS. WHAT DO U HAVE TO LOSE? UR LIFE. PLZ REPOST! THANK YOU AND HAVE A MEANINGFUL REST OF YOUR DAY

Sorry, but because u opened this you will die in 3 days. sorry. the only way you can reverse this is by reposting it within 5 minutes. good luck

By opening this chainmail u have been given bad luck for 2 months. If u repost this message then the bad luck will turn good.

Here are the rules.

Give the bulletin a name that has nothing to do with a chain letter because this letter is a trap. The more people that you trick, the better luck you get

It's a bit too late to tell people not to open it in front of parents when they must have already opened it to read the order! Also, if opening this without reposting in 5 minutes means death, why bother with the 2 months of bad luck?

I would like to point out that the rules clearly state that the tagee must write "a blog." However, it is not mandated that this is a MySpace blog.

The Game: The first player of this game starts with the "6 weird things/habits about yourself" and people who get tagged need to write a blog of their 6 weird habits/things, as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" in their comments and tell them to read yours.

1. Sometimes, when I can't fall asleep, I imagine that I'm sleeping in a different places, such as a log cabin or an igloo.

2. I keep a collection of articles from newspapers and magazines and websites and such in a binder in my room.

3. I fell off the stage of the Finneytown PAC a few months ago and now I have a genuine fear of the edge of the state.

4. The way to my heart is through jelly beans. (Ok, it would take more than that, but jelly beans help a lot.)

5. I'm playing in a string quartet for a harp concerto at the May orchestra festival. My highest note is two F's above the staff, which is absolutely insane.

6. I should be doing my literature homework right now.

I tag (can I only pick 6?)... Mae, Caitlin, Brandae, Kelly, Christina, and Jane.

This morning in orchestra Miss Johnson announced, in her serious and sometimes overdramatic way, that last night Finneytown sophomore Chevis Jackson was shot and killed at Galbraith Pointe. I'd never heard the name before and, though it was sad, the whole thing didn't mean a whole lot to me. I felt more than a little heartless sitting there in orchestra trying not to smile while everyone else was crying. I wasn't smiling because I thought it was funny, but just because that's the way I react to this sort of thing. When my parents told me that my grandpa died and I went upstairs to tell my cousin I was smiling. For some reason my first reaction to grief (in most circumstances) is a smile. It definitely doesn't mean I'm not sad.

The rest of the morning was so surreal. We got out of orchestra early and I walked with Becky to the office to sign in (she has senior leading first bell), like I do nearly every morning. Walking through the halls was incredibly unsettling. It was dead silent except for the sounds of crying. Everyone was scattered in little clusters trying to comfort each other or just sort of staring into space. The grief in the air was almost palpable and completely overpowering. No one was moving quickly, so I couldn't either, but I bit my lip until it throbbed (again, trying not to grin) and would have run out of the building if I were able.

I had always thought it kind of odd when someone, especially someone young, would die and suddenly everyone would act like their best friend had died. I think I understand that a bit more now. It's incredibly affecting when a person one has connection to dies, especially if the person is young. It's affected me and I'd never even heard the name Chevis before 7:30 this morning.

It's weird how things don't stop after things like this happen. It feels like there ought to be a world-wide hiatus or something. But there's not. I just got called to come into work early. The cycle goes on.

11. People who hurt people that I care about.  If I were a black belt and wouldn't get in trouble (I'm such a wuss) I'd go beat up such people.  As it is, I just write vicious things about them in my journal.

1. Laugh tracks
2. Reading over people's shoulders
3. Overuse of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!
4. And question marks?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!??????
5. And, commas, which, I too, am sometimes guilty of
6. Those tank tops with one strap
7. Purse fashion. Purses should be made to last forever so that they never fall apart and I never have to buy a new one.  As it is, purses are very cheaply made (at least the ones in my price range) because fashions change so often that most people change purses... a lot more often than I do.
8. Music with screaming in it ("screamo" or anything else)
9. not replying to emails that expect a reply (especially if you are a Cafe leader)
10. Letting your dog poop in other people's yards.  Even if you clean it up.

One of my goals in life (ok, so it's not really, but I just decided to say it is) is to invent the perfect sandwich. I realize that, as my favored flavors change almost daily, this is something of an impossible task. I suppose, then, that my goal is to simply come up with an interesting sandwich for whatever seems best on a given occasion. Today I invented the Grilled BAP[P] (Banana, Apple, Peanut butter [pretzel]) sandwich. Peanut butter is quite possibly the greatest food invention ever. The BAP[P] sandwich came into existence when I started to make a peanut butter and banana sandwich for my dinner this evening. (My family went to the Swanks for dinner, but I was left behind.) I decided that peanut butter and banana was a little boring and became curious as to what would happen if I were to heat up the peanut butter and banana in a sauce pan. Half way through my heating I thought it would be good to add apples to the mix. So I mixed up my fruity/peanut-buttery stir fry and spread it (it was kind of mushy) between two pieces of bread. After the first bite I decided that the excessive mushiness was a bit disturbing. To remedy this I squished a few pretzles (a trick I learned at Plunge) into the BAP spread (do you think I could patent that?). This solved the squishiness problem, but the taste was off. Next time I think I will try crispy bacon (making it a BAP[B] sandwich). My mom likes preanut butter, bacon, and banana sandwiches.

The clock says 10:51, but I know that unfortunately soon it will jump an hour ahead and an hour of my sleep will be gone. Phooey.