Dorm living is exactly what I should be doing right now and right here at Trinity Western University in Langely, B.C. Canada.

Yesterday at 8:30 AM, I awoke with a glowering mother standing over me. Her hair was still wet from her shower and she wore no make-up--somewhat startling for someone to see first thing in the morning.

She was obviously angry.

Dialogue was strewn out and in high, tensified voices. She was "fed up" with my sleeping schedule and upon hearing from my sister that I was still up at 1:30 AM reviewing my blogs, she walked into my room and threatened my driving privileges.

"I don't think I'm going to let you drive to Canada today."

Now, I'm not one to sacrifice myself to humiliation, but at that moment, I could care less. I begged. I pleaded. I threw off my bed covers and was prepared to get down on my knees. However, my cries were enough to sway my mother's decision back to the lighter side of things and she told me I could go.

My entire life, my sister and I have never been friends. Which is correct? If two people are exactly alike, they won't get along very well? Or is it when they are too different from each other? In the case of my 21-year-old recently married sister, we are somewhere in the middle. We are both intelligent and talented, but in our own special God-given ways. We both hate being wrong, but I am always prepared to back down whereas she hates to leave things "unsettled."

After dressing, I took Cassie to the house she would be sitting. On the way there, she noticed I was quiet. I wish now that I had been bubbly and light-hearted, but I allowed my upsetting morning to shine through--probably for her benefit. She asked me what was wrong and to say the least, it turned into a huge battle of words and accusations.

Leah and I talked about it late last night and I confessed how I had never in my entire life wanted so much to scream the words, "I hate you!" than at that moment in the car. I admitted how awful I felt for even considering saying such a thing and I questioned whether or not I hate her or not. Leah said it helps to imagine someone you "dislike" suddenly dying, unexpectedly, and how that image makes you feel. I thought that was funny because that morning in the car, as I tried proving my "hatred," I imagined my sister's life suddenly in danger. Suddenly, in this mini-picture I had created, I thought of me standing in front of a gun to take the bullet or taking a knife and putting it in my own stomach in order to save her from whatever threatened her life.

Leah said, "...That's love."

I honestly hope that everyone has a great Thanksgiving, but I guess that's not true because I don't hope it for myself. I'm not like Chandler from Friends who always hates Thanksgiving because bad things always seem to happen to him every year on that day. And I'm not like the Grinch who stole Christmas because, really, I don't think I'm that bitter.

Did I ever mention the fact that I am an extremely picky-eater?

Once again, allow me to convey the message of this particular holiday: We are thankful. Therefore, we as one giant group of friends and family are going to celebrate the things we are thankful for by participating in a giant feast which may include a very large bird, a juicy pig, a very large bowl of seasoned mashed potatoes, and a pot brimmed with gravy--key to the happiness of all appetites. Well... most appetites.

List of foods I do not enjoy eating:
-steak
-mashed potatoes, (unless they are made by my Dad)
-turkey
-chicken
-ham
-most deli meats
-etc. etc. etc.

I am not a vegitarian. In fact, I enjoy a fishstick every now and again. But most foods do not appeal to me and so I do my best to avoid them at all costs. I am the same way with drinks. No root beer, no egg nog, and cranberry juice or combinations of it with something else.

So imagine me sitting at a very large dinner table, or the pushing-together of two very large dinner tables, to engage in a fantastic meal representing my thankfulness, but knowing I'll be miserable later, feeling like that girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when she becomes a giant blueberry and has to be rolled away to be "juiced." Yes, I'll eat, but only because I have a tremendous amount of guilt weighing down heavily on my shoulders.

"You haven't touched your turkey, Carly. Does it taste ok?"

"Oh yes, it's delicious. I guess I'm just not very hungry."

"Oh... ok... I'm sorry."

"Oh don't be sorry, *name of this year's cook here*. I just don't feel well."

...No reply.

So I am left feeling this shame. Apparently, I've accused the cook of being a bad cook because I didn't eat their delicious turkey--which it is! It's delicious! I just can't eat very much of it! A small slice of turkey breast and three bites of my mashed potatoes and I'm ready to roll over and die.

Although, there is one thing that I can drool over all year round but only see on this particular Thanksgiving Day:

Stuffing.

However, if I filled my plate with only stuffing, what would the remainder of guests think of me? Do I care? Kind of... I'm not sure why. I guess I don't want them to think that I'm pickier than their three-year-old child sitting at the kiddy table fully enjoying his or her cut up pieces of turkey and honey-ham with a side of cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, drenched in sweet sweet gravy. Run-on sentence? Yes it is, but I don't feel like re-writing it, so just go back to where I began with "I guess I don't want them..." and really concentrate.

Think of what stuffing is made out of and what it feels like in one's mouth. It's bread-like, fluffy, soft, and filling. It reminds me of soup. And I love soup.

Of all the drama I could experience, nothing comes close to the drama of my family.

Signs of the approaching holiday season:

1. Frost on my windshield every morning.
2. Filling a jug full of hot water to defrost my windshield.
3. The trees are officially naked. Not a single leaf remains on its branch.
4. Dad's making a "practice turkey" one week before Thanksgiving.
5. Leftover mashed potatoes and gravy take up two shelves in the fridge.
6. My favorite commercial ever is seen on TV: red and green Hershey's kisses are conducted by a single silver kiss, ringing out the melody to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."
7. Twinkly lights start appearing around the neighborhood.
8. Twinkly lights appear at my home.
9. The fireplace has a fire.
10. Christmas album sales at Barnes&Noble.

Acceptance. Listen.

When do parts of my body, particularly my hands and feet, decide to go frustratingly cold when the remainder of me chooses to stay comfortably warm? No matter how many socks I wear or how long I sit on my hands, they stay that way until they feel it necessary to jump on the bandwagon with the rest of me.

I find it's the same in certain relationships. Where my head and my heart are jumping between frozen and hot like girls in pig-tails playing an innocent game of hop-scotch...

I didn't realize this, but as of November 20, this blog is a one year old. Look at my toddler! Look at it! Up and walking on its own, too! Look at it!... ok, I've said enough.

Picture this:

The three of us coasting along comfortably in Travis' car heading south for an out-of-town concert. The sun has set but it's not nearly dark enough to see any stars. Thinking back now, the whole memory looks like it was limited to shades of blue and purple. A beautiful scene, a beautiful night.

Travis looks to his left and sees a yellow moon and says, "Wow, look at the moon..."

All three of us look.

Travis continued, "Hmm, it looks so small, doesn' it?"

As I stared after his gaze, I notice something myself, "Yeah. Slightly misshapen too."

We continued to watch as the moon began to spin to its side, revealing a message I never expected to see...

"SUBWAY - SUBS AND SANDWICHES"

We laughed really hard at ourselves after that. Later that night, we saw the real moon and I was not as taken with it as I was with the Subway mini-blimp. How unfortunate.

Going to a show is a spectacular thing for me. I feel better when I go, and more normal. Listening to a band play live and run around on a stage makes me smile just thinking about it. Whenever I go, I'm inspired by the bandmembers. I always leave wanting to be a better guitar player, a louder singer, an entertaining performer, and an inspiration to others. Could I be? I ask myself. I'm gonna try... I'll answer.

Last Saturday, I saw Switchfoot play a show with Noise Ratchet in Seattle. I went with friends Sarah, Molly, Nick, and Travis. It's been a week since and I still catch myself remembering, dwelling on the whole picture. Jon Foreman, with his shaggy Southern California locks, the red and blue lights hanging above like Christmas ornaments, and my friends faces--all smiles.

Tonight, it will be the same. Strange Occurance, who has a full-page ad in this month's HM Magazine, is playing tonight. I remember the first time I saw the band. It was at a local church who, unfortunately, did not advertise well, therefore the total attendence could not have been more than 30 people. And of those people, only four of them stood at the edge of the platform, enjoying an arms-reach distance of the bandmembers. Of course, I was apart of the four. It was about two years ago and I remember watching Joe, the guitarist, in absolute awe of his talent. Ever since, I have had a deep respect for Joe and have aspired to play as well as he does. He has amazing style; I have yet to find someone who plays in the same way Joe does. I love it.

Now, it's time for a shower, ready to wash away every worry and thought from today except for the anticipation of a fun show.

Jason's Head.

Read the November 21, 2002 post. Ah!

I wonder sometimes if what I blog here is too personal. If maybe I should change people' names so that no one know exactly who I am referring to. But then I convince myself that no matter what I do, people I know are gonna know exactly who I'm writing about--it doesn't matter how vague I make it. I just hope that whatever I write doesn't scare anyone, anger anyone, frustrate anyone, or intimdate anyone.

Whatever you read here is just an outlet of thoughts. You're getting to know me better because you're reading what's going on inside my head. And perhaps, you can relate at times. Perhaps you can't. Either way, I hope you can take whatever is written here simply as a sort of portal into my own heart. Because that's what it is.

I dunno who I'm talking to here... Mainly Ryan and Sarah. Hey guys. I was just thinking about what I'm doing with this... I just don't want anyone to run away.

Uh-oh... I can feel the sadness radiating from this one. That can't be good.

Came home at 12:30 AM tonight, saw the bright moon directly above me, encircled by a glowing ring of light, and decided I would stay outside my house for a while. I played a new riff I came up with on my guitar (recently covered with wild looking poetry by myself) and came up with a few lyrics to accompany it.

"It's come down to this
It's all very clear
I falling hard for you
Right now, right here
Your eyes, your smile
I could look at you
So talk to me a while"

Yeah, they're not very refined, but it's a basic foundation.

I fell asleep upon arriving at my guitar teacher's house today. When I walked in, he was still teaching, so I sat on his sofa to wait. With my guitar propped between my legs, I dozed off listening to the two of them practice this amazing instrumental piece I had never heard before. It was a sweet-sounding lullaby and caused me to drift quickly into unconsciousness. I woke up after I heard, "...to her lesson. Oh look, she's napping. Wow... she's out. Poor, tired girl..." It was one of those sleeps where I could still hear people talking and make out bits of conversation. After hearing him mention how I tired I was, I slowly remembered where I was and opened my eyes. Oh yeah... guitar... practice... learning... Wake up.

I had a nice day today. Of course, like all Wednesdays, the best part of it was CRU. I love seeing my friends and listening to them talk, and laugh, and make fun of each other. Nick kept himself entertained with a napkin and a pen, and after about two hours at it, he finished with (what I remember anyway) a tiny little sun, a boy's head with a "DUNCE" cap on, a flower, and some other squiggly thing. That's it, after all that time... I guess that means he was distracted by people talking to him the majority of the night--a very good thing.

Once again, I must mention how I've seen Sarah grow as a person. There was a time when I had a lot of difficulty getting close to her because for a long time, I always felt like I was walking on glass around her. Although she reads this, I'm not worried about what she'll say because I'm pretty sure she'll know why I say it. Anyways, I've relaxed a lot more when I'm with her and have found that I can truly confide in her. I think I've gained a lot of her trust, and I hope she knows that she's gained a lot of mine.

Fiona and I got closer tonight. She really opened up to me and I was glad that it wasn't just me venting things out to her, but her telling me things. I always feel guilty bringing my problems or issues out onto someone else, but I realized from talking to Fi that it is a really nice thing to listen and hear about other peoples' struggles. I mean, I am a good listener and I'd like to think that I usually have some fairly good advice, but I also know that I release on others a lot, too, and that's not a bad thing. It's healthy. So, as I sat with Fi, I felt really good about being quiet and just being a friend.

John R. gave me an amazing hug before I left tonight. In fact, I was driving away when he waved his hands to stop me. I rolled my window down and asked, "What?" He reached into the car door, unlocked it, opened it and attacked me with the biggest hug I've had in a long time. Of course, the first thing I ask is, "What's this for??" And he says, "Because, I needed to give you one." Then he says that he could fall asleep right there in my arms, and I thought, Wow, that's kinda sweet... When he backed up, he gave me one of those high-five/hand-hold things and said, "Thanks." I asked, "For what?" He smiled, "For being here." I love John and I hope he's as genuine as he seems all the time--I believe he is.

Well, this post started somewhere but ended up pretty much no where, but that's ok with me. Just so long as I write something. Gosh, I'm tired. Normally, I would try and write something witty and thought-provoking... But not right now. Right now, I'm just... Meh.

Newest girls' play-doll from Matel:

"It's... What's-Her-Face!"

Not even remotely kidding.

Once more, I found myself in the right place at the right time today. Class let out early this afternoon, but before I left, I decided I would stop in the Pool Room for a drink and to chat with anyone I might know. After buying my drink, I left--turns out, I didn't know anyone. Go figure.

As I approached the exit, I could see the dark rain clouds hovering outside. I hesitated for a moment, thinking perhaps I might stay at school for a little while longer. Maybe to avoid the likelihood of a heavy drenching soon to be had outdoors. Of course, I knew I didn't have that kind of time.

I strolled down the sidewalk toward the parking garage, and when I looked up, I saw it--an American bald eagle. Wings outstretched, cutting through the air like a ballet dancer on stage, he flew above the school. A fish flopped helplessly in his talons, and I saw the bird peck at it with his sharp, yellow beak. I stopped moving and stared until I could no longer see him. The eagle was so beautiful; he was so at ease; so fluid; so free. I found myself longing to be like him--big, special, independent, beautiful, gliding through life with the things I know will make me happy. Like God's grace and a pen and paper.

Excerpt from an anonymous Chinese playwright:

Li Chun. What's your business?
Ting Lang. To collect the tax on fishing.
Li Chun. Have you the Emperor's permission?
Ting Lang. No.
Li Chun. Well, where did you get your authority from?
Ting Lang. From His Honour the Magistrate.
Li Chun. Be off with you and tell him to abolish the fishing tax. If he doesn't, there's a chance that something incovenient may happen if we meet in the road.
Ting Lang. You talk pretty big; what is your name anyway?
Li Chun. I'm the Dragon that confuses the Rivers.
Ting Lang. You mean you're the stink-bug in a ball of dung.
Li Chun. Just wait till I give you a walloping, you eight days' spawn of a turtle!
Ni (to Ting Lang). Roll back, and I'll gouge out your eyes and boil them to liquor! I'll flay your hide and mix it with dog-skin to make a plaster for carbuncles.
Ting Lang. Stop bragging! What's your name I'd like to know?
Ni. I'm Ni Jung, the Curly-haired Tiger.
Ting Lang. What sort of louse in a mongrel's hair are you?
Ni. Look out for a thrashing, you mouldy spawn of a turtle.
Ting Lang. Just wait, don't be in such a hurry. I'll first take off my hat and gown... (To Hsiao) You hold him while I run away. (He exits).

Is it just me, or did that sound more like a typical John Wayne western, than an ancient Chinese fishing play?

Fourth Grade:

When I stepped onto the school bus that morning, I never thought I would get hurt. I figured it was the same as all other mornings. However, when I searched for her smiling face and familiar shape, usually sitting about four or five seats back from the door, I couldn't see her. I stood on the tips of my toes and looked to the back of the bus, but I still couldn't see her. Suddenly I noticed an empty seat amongst a generally over-crowded bus. Kids sat three, sometimes four, to a seat. Why would this one, single, lonely seat still be empty? Stepping forward, all was made clear in a brief moment. Two girls sat, hunched over with their heads between their knees, hiding... from me.

It was the new girl, Kandace, with my best friend, Leah.

I don't remember everything that transpired between us. I remember asking, "What's going on?" At one point, I believe they were laughing. But to this day, I can still see a faint touch of worry in Leah's eyes as she looked at me, smiling, chuckling girlishly. She has always been that way. She never wants to hurt anyone, but if she thinks she might have, her remorse is clearly apparent on her face. As I stared at her that morning, my heart pleading for an explanation, I also felt as though I had done her wrong, despite how my own feelings were currently bruised. Trust me, her gaze can be that convicting.

Since that day, two incidents happened during my relationship with Leah. The first--Kandace moved away that same year she had come. The second--Niether Leah or I ever moved. So we've been best friends, kindred spirits, two of a kind, peas in a pod, and whatever else you might say to describe to friends who love each other. Of course, we've had our up times and our down times. There was a time when Leah was mislead by another to believe some untruths. She was told that I smelled and never showered. Who told will remain anonymous, and besides, it wasn't true. However, it did cost our friendship several months with which we could have spent together, having fun, enjoying life, laughing, and smiling.

However, none of those "down times" are really worth mentioning, because obviously, they did not succeed in separating the two of us. I care more about what Leah thinks of me than any other of my friends. Upon reading this, I know that anyone will understand because they know it is true. With one downcasted eye, she can make me want to weep with shame. If she leaps upon seeing me come toward her front door, that simple action will have "made my day."

Knowing her, she will probably read this and tell me later how sorry she still is for that whole incident. I actually enjoy that memory--I thank her for it. Nothing has changed and nothing ever will. I do send this warning, however: don't sit next to her on the bus if you know I'll be on it too. Otherwise, you're just asking for a beat-down. And trust me, I can take you.

In a large crowd of onlookers, our small party of five was the flavor added to what seemed to be a very plain, very bland combination of people. Nonetheless, last night was incredibly fun and great and generally speaking, beautiful. I loved every minute of it.

Noise Ratchett opened, playing six incredible compositions with lyrics I could clearly hear, despite the bass on overdrive and the guitars heavily distorted. I bought the CD and a button. I was thoroughly impressed.

Switchfoot came out and like a giddy teeny-bopper, I jumped up and down at the sight of them. They played an amazing set and came back with an encore of two songs. They ended with Underwater, a fantastic song from their first album, my favorite album.

My friends were incredible and I fell more deeply in love with each of them as the night wore on. I'm not quite sure as to why. Suddenly, I was thinking about how much I cared for each of them; how wonderful they are; how much more fanstastic they make my life by being in it; how they all have qualities that make me want to be a better person.

The show was a good one.
The night was a clear one.
The dinner was an unhealthy one.
My life is a blessed one.

As self-absorbed as I think it is, I just spent the last hour reviewing this blog. Reading posts from the past, commenting to myself, "Gosh, that was stupid" and sometimes, "Carly--that was good. I don't know where that came from... but man, that was good."

Well, I was thinking about some of the key people in my life right now and I thought it might be a good idea if I described them in short, but clear, detail.

So, in no particular order, I will begin with:

Sarah: she went with me, last minute, to see my little brother's play at the high school. Everyone else had other plans, but Sarah, she was right there for me. After getting home, we talked for nearly two hours online about things we have never cared to discuss before. I've known Sarah since she was in the third grade, although we didn't really start to hang out until the end of junior high. Leah is her older sister, but that's totally unrelated. I've watched Sarah grow so much in the last year... In the last two months, actually. She amazes me every time I talk to her. I learn something new. I gain some sort of wisdom; a piece of knowledge; and growth in my own faith.

Ryan: simply put, I've never met anyone like him. Not even close, actually. He's gone to New Brunswick for Bible College and I miss him "right good." Nevermind, only he'll get it--he's practically the only one who reads this darn thing. I definitely miss Ryan a lot and he's helped me work out a lot of my recent issues. He's used up at least two phone cards talking to me about how stupid I'm acting and how badly I need to relax and practice the faith which I supposedly have in Jesus. I'm SO excited for him to come down for Christmas Eve Eve Mudfootball at my house. I've already got first dibs on him! He's on my team! Tap tap! No erase-ies! Ha!

Stephanie: far, far away at Pacific Lutheran University in Tacoma. She going through a lot of unnecessary drama right now and I feel terrible because she really doesn't deserve any of it. I'll be honest, but I feel like she's making all the wrong decisions and no matter what I say to try and steer her in the right direction, things just won't go my way. I love her dearly--she's one of the only people I know who has the same sense of humor I do. With a large group of people, if one of us is laughing, so is the other, but 98% of the time, no one else in the room is.

Honestly, I was hoping to write more... but it's nearly 2:30 in the morning and I'm really starting to feel the sting in my eyes... I'll add to the list later today.
Good night.

My neck hurts, my eyes hurt, my arms hurt, my ankles hurt... everything hurts.

Tonight, my body was thrown around, battered about, squeezed, tightened, and pulled--and it was all done by me.

It was awesome. Opening was a band called Str8 & Narrow--I hate the way they spell their name, but what can I say? They were all very talented; basically your typical Hoobastank/Incubus wannabes, except with a Christian foundation and worshipful lyrics. Very nice. Second up, PAX217. I actually got them on film. The video is going to be gruesome and painful, but that's not my fault. I couldn't hold still. Not for that. There's no friggin' way I would be able to control my body for that one. It was incredible. And lastly, the OC Supertones. They were fine. I've seen them do it before. Usually for a bigger crowd. It was still great. The lead singer is definitely fun to watch. Got lots of their stuff on film too. I figure Leah would have me hanged if I didn't get some footage of them.

Oh Bremerton,
How do I love thee?
Allow me to count how many shows I will see in your borders, and that's how much I love thee.
Especially Charlotte Ann's restaurant next door. I highly recommend the meatball soup. Yum.

Lauren is extraordinarily cool. I have lots of fun hanging with her. We're already at the point where if neither of us is talking, it's ok. No big deal. No one needs to be talking. We'll just travel along in silence. You know that point? Where your comfortable level becomes fulfilled in some way, that by just sitting or walking together in silence is enough. No words necessary.

Travis is great. Love Travis. Couldn't love that boy more. He's gonna make a great husband someday. Whoever he marries will be incredibly blessed/lucky to have scored him. He's so good. And I know most guys hate this statement, but: he's such a nice guy. Beautiful heart.

I miss Ryan. Ryan, the only one who "comments" on nearly all my recent posts. Usually, he would be with us going to these shows, or hanging out at Travis' new place, or doing whatever. He would normally be there. I wish I would be ok with him not being here, but I'm really not. It's not ok. I wouldn't be surprised if I cried when he comes back home. As I see him come out of the airport tunnel, I'm gonna break down. I'll be smiling, of course, but I know I'm gonna break down. I'm not completely made of stone. In fact, I think I'm rather soft and mushy.

One of the things that I love the most, I cannot do, simply because I don't have a guy friend who would do it with and still be appropriate. I love cuddling. Cuddling with guys is such a nice thing for me. Rarely done it, but when I have... I love it so much. But if I did that with some guy friend, people would either think we were dating, or the guy himself would think I liked him. Well, I am here to say that I just like that act of cuddling, not the guy himself. Of course, I wouldn't cuddle with some guy I despised, but if I know him, and he's a friend, then I would like to... But still, I can't. And of course, with a guy I DO like then things are definitely looked at differently in the whole cuddling genre. Did I just use the term "genre" with cuddling? Dude, it's really late... I need to go to sleep.

I miss Leah too. I just saw her last weekend though, so I've had my dosage for the month. However, I still miss her like all-get-out. I can't wait to go see her over Thanksgiving. That's gonna be awesome.

Anyways, I'm off to bed. It was a late show, and a late night, and I have an early life... So, good night, and dream sweetly.

Oh yeah, and I miss Alex too... But I think I'll talk about him later.

I wondered this morning how much it would take for me to afford to move out. I realize it would be an asinine thing to do simply because I could continue to stay with my parents and live for free, but I question whether or not it's worth it. As stupid and ridiculous and cliche as it may sound, I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I enjoy every minute I have away from the house. Usually, the time I spend outside is with friends from CRU, although not this night, I'll be spending with Leah and her Canadian friends who have come down for the weekend.

Basically, I've been having these dreams lately, both during the day and when I sleep, of living on my own or with friends in our own apartment. The indepenence and freedom I feel when I think about it is nearly enough to cause me to make the whole image come true. Get a job. Or get two jobs. Maybe. But... I just can't. Although I get irritated to where there is nothing more I'd like to do than scream at the top of my lungs, I just can't leave.

Believe me, if I were a thousandaire, then yeah... I would by flying away. Maybe someday soon.

At the end of a very long day, we sat in the same restaurant from last night and felt too tired for normal conversation. I was thinking about the entire day's events. Besides an hour of class and an hour spent for lunch, we had spent the our Thursday helping Travis move out of his apartment and into his new place across the parking lot. It was an amazing amount of work. At dinner, I was incredibly tired but I still felt obligated to entertain and make certain people laugh. I tried really hard, but semi-failed--I just wasn't in "the zone" tonight. For the most part, we all talked about relationships. I don't know if we learned anything from each other because of it, but many things were vented about what we hate about what the opposite gender does. Apparently, guys hate the messages in their high school yearbooks that say things such as, "You're such a nice guy!" and the worst one, "Don't ever change." Of course, I released my anger towards the fact that I'm so often seen as "one of the guys" by all my guy friends. The fact that I never got asked to a school dance was also mentioned. The biggest part of our conversation dwelt upon the number of serious crushes we've had in our high school careers. I counted six. Travis counted eleven or twelve. Barry counted one. Nick counted thirteen, I think. It was during all this conversation of crushes and dating that I found myself looking back at Nick a lot. I guess I was searching for meaning behind the looks he gave for every comment made. I'm at that point where I find myself looking at him all the time and I worry that he's noticed. Does he like it? Does he wish I'd look away? Does it confuse him? Does it scare him? Does he read my thoughts? I cannot describe how much I wish I could have read his thoughts tonight.

Honestly... what am I thinking??

Another pointless personality test:

Once again... vanilla. What makes Vanilla friendly? I mean, really? You know, if I had my way, I'd be... sour apple. Oh c'mon--you know they taste good.


What flavor Jelly Belly are you?
This quiz was created by Dollie Designs

The amount of time I have spent fretting over Friday night can be summed up in one, obvious word: ridiculous. I over-analyze everything and O, how I know it! Everyone I talk to tells me the same thing, but still, I worry. About everything that transpired between us, I dwell on them and critisize myself for everything I said and how I could have said things differently. More sly, more cunning, more romantic, more sweet, more flirty, less truthful. Ok, truth--I'm not talking about lying or manipulation. But by some amazing power, I just cannot hold my tongue sometimes. No matter how much I know that by completely admitting something to this amazing guy, I know I am putting myself at high risk. If I freak him out, or reveal too much, or catch him off guard, or whatever! Something! Anything! I'll say it, and I fear it will drive him away. He's the best thing that's come into my life so far this school year, and I would hate to lose him for something completely stupid and foolish that I would say.

Oy... I just wish I could eat something.

Today was so boring, I'm going to take a nice hot shower to clean away all the boringness that seems to be glued to my flesh. Good night, everyone.

5 things that make boring Sundays:

1. Sleeping in until 10:30, but refusing to leave bed until 12.
2. Visiting Costco and coming away with dog food, just dog food.
3. Finding extreme entertainment in watching Karate Kid III.
4. Having a sudden urge to clean/organize the house, specifically my room.
5. Desiring to take a nap, simply for lack of better things to do.