Shall I write more after that horrid display below? Do you think there could be any other answer besides "yes?"

Want me to tell you an embarrassing story? Ok, ok... But I'm afraid it'll have to be in two parts. Alright, here goes...

Embarrassing Story: Part One

My junior year of high school, I met a guy named Evan. He moved here from Tennessee. No, he didn't have an accent. I met him about one or two weeks after school began in September. He came into the Advanced Drama class and my teacher, who prefered to be addressed by his first name, loved him dearly. When try-outs came about for the fall production, guess who won lead? The kid hadn't been there more than two days, and Hjalmer (yeah, that was my teacher's name) had him pinned for the lead role. Evan could have stood on his head and made fart-noises with his mouth and Hjalmer would have given him anything he wanted. Yeah, he loved Evan that much.

I wanted the bitterness to seep into my veins. I wanted to yearn for vengeance.

How dare he come along on such short notice and swipe the lead role from every guy, specifically the ones who have been working their butts off for Hjalmer for the last two years?

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to be jealous of him. I wanted to sabotage him! But, alas, I could not bring myself to do it. First of all, it's not my nature to do such a thing, and secondly, I liked him. A lot.

Eventually, Evan won everyone over and he became as much a part of our dramatic family as anyone else who had been there since the beginning. In fact, he became the class pet with everyone, not just the teacher. After a while, I felt like the daughter in the family who keeps herself locked away in her room, crouched in a dark corner--an admiring zealot of everyone else in the house. Despite my lack of acceptance amongst my fellow thespians, Evan and I were able to establish a fairly strong friendship. Well, he had the friendship and I had the crush.

Homecoming soon came, along with the football game and the dance. The only football game I had ever attended was to the homecoming game, but I hadn't been to a dance. I wanted to go to a dance. I wanted to dress up and look pretty. I wanted a guy to twirl me around on a dance floor, laughing all the while. I wanted that guy to be Evan.

Erin pushed me on.

"You should just ask him, Carly! I bet he'd say 'yes!' He likes you!"

"You think he would?"

"Totally! Just go for it!"

And I did. Oh, how I went for it... More like dashed for it!

When the bell rang, Evan headed for the door, but I caught him by his sleeve at the last moment.

"Evan, hey--"

"Yeah?"

"Hey, um..."

You wanna go to homecoming?

Evan, would you take me to homecoming?

Hey, I was just wondering if maybe you'd wanna go to homecoming with me?

"Would you go to homecoming with me?"

Awkward silence is the most awful, horrible, terrifying thing humankind can ever experience.

"I--" he finally started, but then stopped suddenly.

"I mean, if you don't want to--"

"No, no... Just... Maybe?"

"Maybe?"

"I kinda... I gotta ask my parents first."

"Oh... Ok! Well, that's cool! Just lemme know! Whenever!"

"Sure."

Quick note: When a girl says, "Just let me know some time" or "Yeah, whenever. Just give me a call." The smartest thing a guy can do is call within 24 hours. I repeat--call her the very next day, if not sooner.

Two weeks later...

I spot Evan talking to Erin in class. She shakes her head at him and sort of shrugs. Evan nods in an understanding manner and looks over at me. I smile upon making eye contact. We took our seats. At the end of class, I packed my things and started heading for the door. This time, it was my sleeve caught by Evan.

"Hey, Carly--"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, I needed to tell you that... Well, my parents are making me take another girl to homecoming."

"Another girl?"

"Yeah, a girl I know from church. She's actually met my parents and they're comfortable with her."

"Oh... Ok."

"Yeah? I'm sorry, it's kinda weird..."

"Hey, Evan. It's totally cool. No problem."

"Thanks, Carly. Ok, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yup, I'll be here."

INTERMISSION

Embarrassing Story: Part Two (finally...)

So, after Evan passed, I ended up asking four other guys to the dance before one of them finally said "yes, if I'm not working that night." It was my friend Josh from the youth group I used to go to and at the time, he had a girlfriend. In fact, I think they're still together. We went together as friends, of course, and we had a fun time. He and Evan hit it off right away, now that I remember. We went together as a group to a fancy seafood restaurant prior to the dance. The two boys sat across from each other and I from Evan's "date" and the four of us got along so famously, you could actually see us swimming around in the "peaches-n-cream." It was really fun. Although, I will confess, I wished like noneother that I was sitting next to Evan instead of the cute, strawberry blonde with the great personality.

A few months went by and the hype for the next dance was building...

Sadie Hawkins, or "Tolo" as we liked to call it at school. Where the world reverses the direction of its orbit and girls ask guys to the dance, something you thought could only happen in the Bizzare-O World. However, due to past events, I have shown everyone that it can be done at times besides Sadie Hawkins. Any normal girl can ask a guy to a dance whenever she feels like it... Or maybe I'm just from a parallel universe and no one ever told me. However, at this point in time, I didn't feel ready to ask a guy to a dance. I knew if I wanted to go to one, it would have to come to that point--where I would approach the guy at the end of the day and "pop" the seemingly difficult question. It wouldn't matter whether it was a girl-asks-guy or guy-asks-girl dance, I knew that in my case, it would always come to that point.

After a miserable time debating over whether I wanted to go to a dance with Evan (which, I obviously did), I finally told Stephanie I was going to do the deed and jump. The day I made this decision was the same day Evan didn't show up to class. When I saw he wasn't there, I was somewhat relieved by the fact that I wouldn't have to ask him that day. However, an evil plot was being twisted and it would seek my demise...

"Carly! Is Evan here today?!"

I turned and saw Laura, the lead romantic interest of our fall production, somewhat ironic due to how the play was "The Matchmaker." I mentioned before that Evan had gained the lead role for that same play. Lead male role, lead female role--what do you think they're relationship was in the play?

"Uh, actually... I don't think he is. I think he's sick today." I was totally guessing and just threw out the first explanation that came to mind.

Laura turned a sharp 90 degrees and grasped her best friend's arm.

"Amy!"

Amy shook Laura gently.

"Tomorrow. We'll do it tomorrow."

Do what tomorrow?

The next morning, it was gorgeous out. It wasn't raining, there weren't any clouds. The sky was a rich blue and a light fog was fading quickly. Frost covered the majority of the cars parked along side the road and the grass we walked on crunched softy under our feet. It was a beautiful beginning to an embarrassing day.

Evan had parked behind me. We both got out of our cars and started the walk up towards school.

"Where were you yesterday?"

"Sick."

"You any better?"

"Yeah, lots. Thanks."

"That's good."

"Anything happen yesterday?"

"Not much, really..."

"So I didn't miss anything?"

"No... I think Laura is plotting something against you."

I smirked in Evan's direction and searched for any meaning in his reaction. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Was this a good reaction or a bad? I'm not good at reading people.

"Plotting something?"

"Yeah... I actually think they're setting you up for Tolo."

"Oh... great..."

"Will you say 'yes?'"

"I dunno... I wouldn't want to. I mean... It depends on with who."

"Yeah..."

"I mean, I was really hoping I could go with a friend this time. Like a good friend."

His eyes shot in my direction. I looked back at him. You know that dramatic part in the movie where the two people catch each other's stares and don't say anything? They just keep staring?

I cleared my throat.

"Hmm..."

Evan, do you wanna go to Tolo with me?

How 'bout going with me to Tolo?

I'd like to go to Tolo with you, Evan.

Take me to Tolo?

Take you to Tolo?

You and me--Tolo.

Tolo, Evan?

"Well, I'll see you at lunch, Evan. I gotta get to my English class."

"...Ok. In the courtyard?"

"Yeah. I'll save you a spot."

Fifth period came, the second to last class of the day, the class which came before drama. I ran to Stephanie and pleaded for her help. I was almost sure Laura was going to ask Evan to the dance and I was sure it would happen before the days' end.

"I've got to do something. What should we do?"

We skipped class and booked it to TOP Foods where I purchased a card, a flower, and I think something else I have since forgotten... But that doesn't matter. What matters is that in the card, I asked him.

When we got back, Stephanie and I got the wicked idea to place everything on his car for him to see when school let out. I just prayed he would see it before saying "yes" to anyone else's Tolo proposals. I should have known otherwise...

We got back up to school about two minutes before sixth period was to start. I got to class by taking the back door into the auditorium, where the class was held. I stepped in at the pivitol moment...

Laura stood at the foot of the stage with a cup of chocolate pudding held up by her hand. Pudding referred to a certain line in the play. Pudding meant adventure. Pudding meant something wonderful. Pudding meant love.

I stood, staring stupidly from the back. I could say nothing. I could do nothing. I just watched knowing was about to happen.

Laura laughed adorably.

"Pudding, Evan?!"

The rest of class looked in Evan's direction. After a pause, they started chanting, "Pudding! Pudding! Pudding!"

With every time they shouted the word, the more my heart became like pudding itself... Chocolate pudding heart oozing down my chest, making its way to my stomach, where it wasn't settling well.

Evan forced a smile.

"Pudding!"

And that basically sums up my embarrassing story--

Pudding.

I really shouldn't be taking the time to write here because my brother needs to be picked up at the Check-&-Ride, but I honestly feel like I ought to because I won't have time later. I'm not going to think about what I'm going to say, I'm just gonna go and let whatever comes out, come out...

I went to the Battle of the Bands my college was sponsoring today and it was... interesting, to say the least. There were a lot of pretty people in there. All male. My friend Rob came up to me and asked if I would be playing today. In fact, he wasn't the only one. That made me feel really good. Because they were all hoping I was.

"Guys, I'm not a band. I'm just one person."

"So?!"

"Yeah, ok, whatever..."

Anyways, much thanks to all who wished to see me up there today. Now I kinda wish I had been.

You should all know that I totally bombed my philosophy test today. In fact, bombed would be understating it. I failed utterly, completely, miserably, to the worst degree... I'll be sure to let everyone know how badly I failed next week when I learn how I scored.

Alright, I realize I haven't really said much here, but sometimes, even when you haven't got much to say, you should write. Writing is good. Writing is fun. Writing is love. Writing is great. Writing and really good for the heart, mind, and soul. It forces you to expand your mind and search what it is you'd really like to say. Yup... I really like to write.

I want to be where there is no school, where there is no rain, where all I have to do is sing and play all day.

I want to be in San Diego.

Ever hear (read?) Jason refer to Mountain Dew as the "nectar of the gods?"

Well, he's wrong...

It's Gatorade Frost: High Tide.

I know Jason never comes to read any of this, so I'm going to say this to him, and I'm only going to say this once:

Go stuff yourself with a Big Red, because you ain't got nothin on my High Tide.

If I'm adding to the noise, turn off this blog!

See... If you had the Switchfoot album, you would know exactly what written above was a parady on. Right... So if you want to know, you'd best go out and buy that album really quick. Or else, you're going to continue to be in the dark of my sarcasm, and that's never fun.

I'm making a list for Alex's "project." If you feel the need to contribute, please do so by emailing me any ideas or suggestions here. I welcome anyone's thoughts and recommendations. Please, do not comment ideas for risk that Alex suddenly decides, spur of the moment, that he feels like visiting jeffersonair. Right, so email me, because he cannot know anything about it. Nothing!

Thanks, everyone.

Three weeks left before I leave for New Brunswick. Three weeks left until winter quarter is over. Three weeks left before I start spring break. Only three weeks left. I have a lot to do before the end of that three weeks, but I am so happy to have these three weeks. I'm not going to neglect them. I won't ignore them. Because they're directly in front of me and that's an awful lot of time to use for great and wonderous things. Like Alex's "project." And working on my duo-scene for acting class with none other than my very own younger brother. To attack homework in areas where I've fallen behind. I'll play my guitar and work on my soloing skills--Rick, I promise I will. To write. A lot. To write a lot.

I'd best get started...

I was looking at my mom earlier today. I was looking for her in my own face. I couldn't find anything. Am I just blind to my what my own mother looks like? Or are there really no similarities to her and my face? Different eye color, different hair color, different skin-tone, different face-shape. Where is she? You tell me. What can you see?

Mom's picture is when she was 18 years old. My picture is from this month. I'm 19.


Why can't I see her?

Growing up, I was always asking my mom, "Mommy, whose eyes do I have? Yours or daddy's?"

"You have daddy's blue eyes."

I don't know what year my nose decided it would rather look like an adult-nose instead of a child's pug-nose, but I do remember asking my mom, "Mom, whose nose do you think I have? Yours or dad's?"

"You have dad's nose."

Every morning when I wake up, I go to the bathroom and I look in the mirror. I'm constantly reminded of the faint freckles scattered across my nose and cheeks.

"Mom, where do I get my freckles from? You don't have them and neither does dad."

"You get those from me."

"You don't have freckles, mom."

"Yeah, but I did."

"And they just went away one day?"

"Yeah, I guess I grew out of them when I was about 14 or 15."

"Grew out of them?"

"Yeah, they just kinda went away..."

"I still have mine."

"Yeah. Funny, huh?"

"Yeah, funny."

Amazing what a little soap and water can do.

First thing's first! I bought the newest addition to the Switchfoot series and I've come l l <--- this close to losing my mind. I've never liked driving, but today, with Switchfoot serenading me as I sit behind the wheel... I've never loved doing the thing I hate more in my life. It's true.

I went to the Spash-N-Dash today and it was incredibly fun. My car is no longer a dingy, dirty semi-white SUV. Rather, it is a brighter version of a dingy, dirty semi-white SUV. The transformation was amazing. I'll be sure to post a picture before the day's end.

Oh yes, and Alex Golden, if you ever read this--A devious plot is about to be unleashed on you.

Could it be true? Am I due for a random tangent? Yes, I think I am...

I felt pretty today. I'm not going to elaborate on that. I'm only stating it because I rarely feel this way and on the days I do, I think it's good to remember it. See that, Ryan! I can feel good about myself! You just have to find me on a good day. Well, rather a pretty day, because everyday is a good day. Just about...

I just found out I have another philosophy test tomorrow and I am so unprepared for it, I'm afraid to go to class. Although, my friend Jen who told me about it also mentioned that she only knew it was happening because she by chance saw it on the syllabus. Our prof has failed to mention it completely. So I wonder whether he'll have the test or not tomorrow. I mean, what prof doesn't warn their students of an upcoming test? He didn't review for it or anything of the sort! Who does that?

Moving on...

I miss somebody. I couldn't stop thinking about him all day today. No, you don't know who he is, but he puts a smile on my face every time I think about him. I felt like such a girl. Like a young girl with a secret she simply can't wait to tell her closest friend, but wonders whether or not she should. Maybe some people already know it simply because I've mentioned certain words. Some girls are great at reading minds. (Hello, Lauren. Hey, Sarah, you're good at it too.) Still, I think I'm going to keep it to myself for now. I'll just continue missing him privately.

Alright, I think that's good enough for now. Lots on my mind now... Will write more tomorrow.

Michelle, you make me so happy. I can't express to you how much this made my day. Seriously, I'm speechless.

As the majority of you know, I love my little brother. Not just a fond, family-type love either. I love him like I love my best friend, because he is one of them. And I'm not saying we're perfect, because we're not. We bicker and sometimes get mad. We never fight, though. That's just something we don't do.

I took him with me to CRU last Wednesday. He's got the week off because his school takes a mid-winter break. Therefore, staying out late with my friends isn't really an issue right now. Needless to say, everyone loved him. He really liked being there, too. He loved everyone.

"I'm so glad I came," he kept saying. "Everyone was so cool."

A couple days ago, he called my cell phone. I was babysitting at the time.

"Carly, where are you?"

"I'm at Susan's. I'm babysitting tonight."

"Oh... Well... When do you come home?"

"Not until late. It's date night for them."

"Like, what time do you think?"

"Somewhere around 11, maybe?"

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh. "I want you to come home now."

"Kyle, I can't--"

"Yes, you can!"

"No, I can't!"

"Yes. You can."

"Kyle--"

"Carly."

"Stop it! What's your deal?"

"I'm bored!"

"You want me to come home because you're bored?!"

"Carly, you have no idea what happened today!"

"What?!"

"You took me to school this morning, I went to school. Dad picked me up, I came home, and you weren't here. I went downstairs, played some Game Cube for like, 30 minutes, and after that, I drew for a while. Then I went up to your room, thinking you were gonna come home soon. I lied on your bed and fell asleep until 7:30. I woke up, made myself some dinner, and then I sat on the couch and watched 'The Simpsons.' It's 9:30 now, and you're still not home."

"...Why didn't you call a friend?"

"I called every single one. No one was able to come over."

"Why didn't you go do something? Like ride your bike?"

"It's not as fun going alone."

"Kyle... What are you gonna do when I'm really gone?"

"...What do you mean?"

"I mean, next fall. What are you gonna do when I go to school and I'm not there at all?"

"I don't wanna think about it."

"I'm serious, Kyle, what are you gonna do?"

"I really don't want to think about it, Carly!"

"Ok, listen, when I get home tonight, you and I can watch a movie, ok?"

"Ok. Cool."

"Ok, see you later."

"Bye."

I'm beginning to wonder what I am going to do without him.

I'm making friends all over the continent. It's the most awesome thing, while at the same time, ridiculous! But in the most wonderful way! People are awesome! I love them all! I feel like my life is so special because of everyone I know. I can't exaggerate this enough! I just love people! They make me laugh! They make me think! They make me want to be a better person! They challenge me! They relate to me! They're my friends! How blessed are we all to be able to say, "I HAVE FRIENDS!" Some people don't, you know? Some people don't have friends. How much would it suck if you didn't have a single friend? I mean, honestly, have you ever thought about it? Well, I have, and let me tell you--I'm the most blessed girl in the world because I have more than one. And they're everywhere! In Washington, in all parts of Canada, in California, in Oregon, in Texas, in Florida... The list goes on! And they're not just acquantances! They're close to my heart and I'm emotionally attached to every last one of them. I'm so wow'd right now...

Are you ready for some premature writing? Some words I have no intentions on piecing together well? Are you prepared to be confused? Do you have the will to go back over back over that sentence you just read to make sure you read it correctly? If you answered "maybe" to all those questions... Meh, that's good enough for me.

I'm tired. I'm friggin' tired. I don't like writing out slang, but because I'm tired, I have a good excuse to do so. I was up till 4:00 am last night and I slept in until 11:00 am. I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. It was dad. See, I was housesitting, which is why he had to call me. I'm looking forward to having a place of my own. Although, when I think about it, I don't really think about having a house of my own. I really don't. I don't think about choosing the right neighborhood or picking a good house. Honestly, I don't.

When I think about my life, all I imagine is traveling. In a bus or an RV. I kid you not. That's what I'm thinking. Right now, that's all I have in my mind. These images of me sleeping in a big RV with a couple friends sitting at a small table playing cards and another one in the driver's seat, humming some new tune he just came up that morning. We're on our way to our next show. That's right. Show. I just want to tour. I think of nothing else I'd rather do. Sure, get married... To the lead singer!!! I want to go to Bible College, gain a knowledge of the Bible I always knew I should have, perfect the skills needed to perform and touch people, and then hoof it into some band with good music and a good message. Now that's what I call an appealing ministry! Talking to people all around the country and learning what they have to think about God and Jesus and Christianity in general. Non-Christians have so much to offer my life. I would rather perform for a large group of non-Christians and have them simply be in the same vicinity as my music than for a bunch of Christians who don't need to hear me say, "God loves you more than you'll ever know." If out of all those non-Christians only one comes up to me afterwards and asks me, "Hey, in that third song you played? When you said blah-blah-blah? What did you mean?" Just one! Just one person who's curious about it! I'll be praising God. Praise God if any lyric or note of mine strikes a chord in someone's heart. Praise God.

I don't want to marry some youth pastor or Christian counselor and then settle down and become the perfect housewife. That's not what I want. I haven't wanted those things since I was 15--the same year I learned how to play the guitar. However, I do want to go to Bible College more than anything else, as of right now. But when I'm done, when I've got what it is I need from Bethany, I think God is taking me on the road. And I don't think I'll be going alone.

The Monologue:

(Sitting in a chair) Cancer? Really? You're sure? Can it be treated? How long? (pause) Brilliant... Well of course you're sorry! You're not the one with the bloody cancer, now are you? No! You're the perfect doctor with the perfect health--a bloody perfect life! Nothing like this could ever happen to you! I mean, you are married, right Doctor? That's right, and I'm bloody alone--just as I always will be. (pause) I should have known something like this would happen... Even after college, my life had no direction. No purpose. You've always known what you were doing right, Doctor? All through medical school, you always had everything planned out? (pause) I had no idea where I wanted to go. I had no idea what I wanted to do. I could never imagine myself getting married or having a baby. Even when I tried. Not that I wouldn't want those things, because it's true--I would enjoy either one. I look back now and I can see how I took for granted the opportunities that were laid out before me. (pause) I had a fiance once. His name was James. I had never truly loved a man before James. He was amazing. A really good person, you know? We met in that small pub down on the corner of Bill's Grocery, you know the one? Yeah... He came in all handsome-like. Sat down at the bar next to me. Well, to make a long story short, we fell in love, he proposed, I said "of course," then I buggered it up and now I'm here with you. I have no idea where he is now--he could be in bloody Africa for all I know. It's just that I wonder... Had I not let him go... Had I not been so scared... Like if James were here with me right now... Then maybe my life wouldn't be threatened. (pause) No matter how many times you say you understand, Doctor, you will never truly know what I'm going through. I don't care how many other patients you've had--they could never know and neither could you because none of you are me! You don't know what I'm thinking! You don't know what I'm feeling! So don't sit there in your leather chair and nod your head at me like it's comforting, Doctor, because I guarantee you--all it does is reassure me that I am going to die! (pause) I mean, let's be honest with each other--this is what you do for a living! You sit people in your office with the window curtains pulled shut only to remind people of how much darker their life is about to become! Well, I don't want a dark life, Doctor! (pause, stands up, crosses to window, pulls window curtains open, pauses at the light shining in) Whatever time I have left, I'm going to fill it with light. (pause) And no cancer can stop me from doing that. No one can stop me from doing that.

I performed my monologue today. It was really fun. I hadn't performed (acted) for anyone in two years, so when it was my turn, I wasn't sure how ready I was. However, the result was great, my teacher loved it and so did the rest of the class.

The monologue was about a British girl who is told she has cancer by her doctor. She's sitting in the doctor's office and basically she just talks about how she feels about it. Obviously, it's a dramatic piece. I wrote it, but I didn't want my teacher or my class to know. So I didn't say anything. In fact, I was very "mum" about the whole thing. However, my teacher became curious, which I had hoped to avoid.

"So tell me--who wrote that? I've never heard it before. It was beautifully written. I mean, wow..." and she went on and on before I could even answer. So I felt like a real airhead because there she was, praising my work, filling my mind with wonderful thoughts about my work, and I was about to tell her:

"...I did."

Let me tell you, I have never experienced what I experienced today. Sitting in a chair in the center of a classroom, surrounded by well over 30 pairs of eyes, confessing to be author of a short piece of literature, and have everyone all at once lean forward about two feet in my direction. I never understood the fear of small spaces until that moment.

Anyways, it was great. Got a bunch of pats on the back. It was fun. I hope to do it again sometime.

My entire life, I've come in second place with men. Ok, lots of those so-called "men" were still "guys," but nonetheless... The fact is, whenever I've had a romantic interest, I was always dropped for another girl who they had been interested in all along.

In the ninth grade, it was Kris--that's right, spelled with a "K." I liked him a lot, and he liked me, but he also liked my cute, bubbly friend Briana. He came to me, asking if I knew what she thought of him. I knew for a fact she didn't like him back and she was also moving to Arizona in about five months. Despite how unrelated it seemed, I told him the latter part, but omitted the former because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. About a week later, he asked me to be his "girlfriend." I accepted. It was about a week later before he actually spoke to me and it took a random friend to grab both our hands and place them in each other's--if you call that a dating relationship, you've got one twisted mind.

About six weeks later, I broke it off. I knew we were still friends who just happened to hold hands. He would try to kiss me, but it was like kissing plywood--flat and numb. I actually tried avoiding it whenever I could. When he would succeed, I'd smile at the fact that he was trying. Nonetheless, whatever he was doing, it wasn't kissing. He was really upset about breaking up, but he couldn't have been too heart-broken. Briana became his target once more and that's when I realized I had been his second choice. That kind of stung.

About one or two months later, I met Richard... Oh wow! I just heard a bunch a growls come from the testerone side of my friends. Stop grinding your teeth, gentlemen. Richard and I are still friends.

I had started going to church regularly with Leah. She introduced me to everyone, including some people I'd met before. However, I'd never known Richard, but after I saw him, I certainly wanted to know him. What can I say? He was the youth group "hottie." Every girl knew it. I honestly thought he was unattainable because of how good-looking he was, so I just introduced myself to him and left it at that. Not to mention, when I learned he was "in love" with a girl named Jessica, he became more than unattainable--rather, he was untouchable. So, since I knew I couldn't get a crush on him, I was a lot more outgoing about becoming his friend. Mostly, we'd chat online and email each other back-and-forth because he lived about half an hour away from me and neither of us could drive. We only saw each other twice a week, Wednesdays and Sundays, and most of that time, Richard would be with Jessica. I didn't mind in the least because I didn't like him like that. Although, most of you know now that it didn't stay that way.

Apparently, my outgoingness was quite appealing to him and he admitted to having a big crush on me. I challenged him on the Jessica-factor, but he blew it off like it wasn't a big deal. After he got all his feelings out, he had me convinced that his relationship with Jessica wasn't all too important. After that, he started acting a lot more like a boyfriend than anything else. However, it was all secret. Well, of course, none of that stays secret for long. Holding hands underneath the table in Sunday school and putting his arm around me whenever no one was looking. He never kissed me and I fell in love with him. As infatuated as it may have been, he had so much of my heart. One day, out of nowhere, he told me he didn't want anything to do with me and that he would always love Jessica. Hear that ripping sound? Yeah, that would be him tearing my heart out.

After a nine month recovery, I was able to look him in the eyes again. When he got his driver's license, he was the one who drove me home after worship practice. Just me and him in his Nova and Carmen blaring on his tape-deck. Hard not to become friends again after that. Still, I don't forget how I came in second with him.

I went out on my first, real date this school year. Remember Nick, people? On the first day of November. We had a lot of fun. In fact, I thought he would ask me out again. When he didn't, I was ok with that. I liked him a lot and I wished he had reciprocated. But he obviously didn't feel the same way, despite how it felt at times that he did. Turns out, he's officially together with a friend of mine. She and him had been friends before I really met Nick, so you can see how, in some ways, I feel like I took second place again. Maybe that's reaching, but look at it this way. He knew two girls who liked him, he went after one.

I'm fine with being single. I'm at peace with it. I can serve God so well as a singleton. However, if a guy shows interest, I don't overlook it. Some people I know refuse to get into a dating relationship because they want to perfect their relationship with God first. Of course, God's got some quirks to work out of me, but that doesn't undermine the fact that I'm happy being alone. So when a guy shows interest, I don't ignore it. For all I know, he could be the one God wants me to be with. If I ignore that, I could be making the biggest mistake of my life.

However, thus far, every last guy I've ever known to show interest in me, ends up dropping me for a girl they've known and liked before. I'm noticing a dreadful pattern. It's happened at least two more times since Nick. I'm honestly beginning to think there's something terribly wrong with me.

There must be, or else I wouldn't be second.

I saw J. Lo at school today. She was at the elevator, slirping up a tropical punch Hi-C pouch and was dressed in her J. Lo best. I saw her later coming from the parking lot. A group of guys watched as she walked passed and they yelled out her name but she didn't look back. This time, she was dressed appropriate for a leisurely jog. Matching brown velvet sweats with a matching zip-up cardigan. Let's not forget the pink pin-stripe that started at the shoulders and followed completely down to her heels. I spotted J. Lo again in the computer lab. I forgot to see what she was wearing, but I know she was dressed again in her J. Lo best. Not to mention, by that time, I didn't really care anymore. I can't keep track of every J. Lo that crosses my path. I can gaurantee you one thing though:

I'm never going to be mistaken for J. Lo. Thank God.

I don't understand my dreams. I dreamt last night that the lead character from "The Producers" (the play I saw two Thursdays ago) was my boyfriend. All I remember is going to meet his father who had long white hair and then leaving to the Seattle coastline to go jetskiing. I remember always holding his hand. I remember feeling really happy because someone wanted to hold my hand.

How many of you can understand and appreciate a nice, hot bath at the end of your day?

Ok. So how many of you can understand and appreciate a nice, hot bath that includes powered jets located at all sides?

Oh, the joys of housesitting.

We're awfully popular today.

I love men's sweaters and/or sweatshirts. I think it traces back to wearing dad's double-XL t-shirts for pajamas. In junior high, my favorite winter piece of clothing was my dad's gray hooded sweatshirt from Old Navy, which I soon convinced him belonged to me. Something about how it came down to about four inches above my knees and how the sleeves were so long, my hands disappeared about three inches before the hem. How I loved to flip the hood up when it started to rain. I would tilt my head back, so to peer just underneath its edge. It was warm, it was comfortable, it was safe.

Insight.

Received an interesting message today. It came to me written on the back of a one-dollar bill.

St. Lazurus Anyone receiving this bill will be Blessed with lots of money if they write this message on ten other bills.

Should I follow the instruction for the sake of superstition, or simply to help other people laugh as hard as I did?

I've been fighting for an answer all day. The meaning behind Valentine's Day. And I have just discovered it:

Chocolate covered strawberries. Scrumptious.

CLARIFICATION: These are not items I received from a Special Someone on Valentine's Day. No, these are items my friends handed to me in the local Starbucks while I waited for my hot cocoa. Then the picture was taken.

I can't not do this.

Have mercy on me.

There's nothing like the feeling of relief, the lifting of weight off one's shoulders, the dismissal of unwanted burdens, the release of uncomfortable pressure. What I once thought was 30 credits left to finish in school has depleted down to 22 credits, officially proclaimed by the nice, chubby counselor lady in the admissions office.

Happy Valentine's Day to me!

I've purchased my airplane ticket. Just to be safe, I've checked the items not allowed for carry-on:

Generators - not allowed
Portable power tools - not allowed
Soldering irons - not allowed
Wheelchairs, battery-powered - not allowed
Cattle prods - not allowed?

Kyle and I took the 405 highway into Kirkland today. I was in the passenger seat.

No worries though. After he parked in the Costco parking lot, I found my heart again and put it back where it belongs. Oh yes, and the shaking only lasted about four minutes.

I have so much respect for my parents right now, you can't even begin to understand.

It's a go.

Both my professors from my Acting and Philosophy classes, have agreed to help me finish this quarter early. I'll be taking my last Philosophy test a day early and my Acting prof is going to allow me to do a completely seperate final than everyone else. While everyone works on a final performance, I'll be working on something totally independent from it. No one to consider, no one to argue over what would be best, no one to tell me what I ought to do. Just me. This is going to be one fantastic finale to the quarter.

And sometime in the evening of March 19th, I'll be on a Canadian airplane heading east. They'll serve me a tiny pack of trailmix with my choice of drinks. I'll be happy as the sun disappears quickly behind me, losing four hours of time but gaining an incredible sensation of hope. Hope for a future. Hope for fellowship. Hope for closeness with God.

Congradulate me. I'm extremely happy.

I give you my Introduction to Logic class:

At the table to my left are two guys. One in a white fleece who is diligently taking notes and often likes to ask questions that requires the professor to repeat exactly what he just said 30 seconds ago. The other is a guy dressed in his finest Nordstrom attire. He rests one cheek on his right fist and stares menacingly at the overhead. He thinks, I could be shopping right now...

To my right is Luke, working on the homework from last night. He rubs his forehead with his left hand while occasionally flipping back a couple pages in his text. His mouth is always turned up in a teeth-baring smile, similar to that of Jerry Seinfeld, and I'm beginning to think it's because he's always nervous about whether or not the professor is going to call on him for an answer.

In front of me is a wide variety of characters.

The first I see is a hefty male with a bright shirt that has a drawing of two chipmunks humping each other. On Tuesday, he wore a kilt--I'd say today was an improvement. Across from him is a younger looking guy, trim with really nice hair, who has a shirt with the phrase "Mullet Boy" written across the chest. He has no mullet himself and I am thankful for this.

Behind them is a table of four girls and one guy. The guy clings desperately to the edge of the table, trying to appear detached from his female company. In attempt to appear more independent and manly, he only appears awkward. One of the girls with him looks as though she just woke up, a feeling I can relate to immensely. Another girl could be ready to walk the runway, all she's missing is the Versace gown. The third girl is a woman about 35 or 38 in age and she is dressed in a mint-green sweater with knitted sleeves and with her hair pulled up in pig-tails. And the fourth girl looks normal, like the type who works at the local Starbucks. She likes her job and she doesn't seem to mind this class--life is good.

Lastly, there is a table of four guys, all generically similar in looks. However, one stands out above the rest. His name is Julian.

Julian is my favorite class member. Well-spoken and intelligent, he dresses sharp but with a casual style. His elongated face compliments his beautiful white teeth. His dark-brown skin makes his eyes stand out all-the-more. Everything he says is well-thought-out and precise, while he's not afraid to ask a question, revealing his uncertainties. He's humble, he tries hard, and I have so much respect for that.

These are the observations I made in class today. Random yes, but that's what I do.

I feel rather foolish at the moment. Most of you know that I am an avid Jason Kill enthusiast. He posted something yesterday supposedly tongue-in-cheek, however I took it rather seriously. How dare he even propose the idea of changing the format of his blog?! Even if he had no intensions to do so in the first place, just thinking about it makes me mad. So of course, being me, I don't restrain my tongue (or fingers, for that matter) all too well. With that as my excuse, I commented this pathetic, girl-with-a-crush confession for everyone to read. At the time, I didn't care, but now I'm ready to crawl into fetal position and not blog for... a week? Maybe two?

Just the other day, I was writing a note to a friend and I was complaining about how my writing professors don't critique or offer enough suggestions as I'd like. I want to be as great at writing as I possibly can be, but how can I expect improvement without proper instruction? So, as I wrote to this friend, and complained and ranted, I mentioned something that totally caught me off guard.

"I mean, I'm glad I seem so perfect when it comes to voice and having correct grammar. But c'mon! I'm NO Jason Killingsworth!"

Why do I feel like I've just released yet another embarrassing confession?

Poetry Class


Prof. Jared: Don't forget! There's no class on Monday so everything written on the board is for Wednesday.

Carly (turning to Angela): There's no class on Monday?

Angela: No. It's President's Day.

Carly: Oh, yeah. President's Day. I can tell you exactly how I'll celebrate that one.

Angela (laughing): No kidding?

Carly: Sleep in 'til noon, lounge around the house a bit, maybe go see a movie.

Angela: Yeah, I'm working.

Carly: Perhaps I'll write a letter to the President or something.

Angela: Even though I hate President Bush. Well, not really hate, but...

Carly: At least he's a Republican.

Angela: ...

Carly: ...

I don't understand.

This is Seattle!!!

Don't hate me because I watch the The Preacher's Wife in the middle of February.
Don't hate me because I get teary-eyed when Whitney Houston makes even the King of Athiests "believe in miracles."
Don't hate me because I wish Denzel Washington was my own personal guardian angel.

ABC Family. The only reason I watch television. Well, that and Whose Line is it Anyway. Go Wayne Brady.

Time for a list! You must realize by now that I make lists when the Creative Cola in my glass has gone completely flat.

Top Five Favorite Things to Hate:

5. Having a computer with a dial-up connection.
4. People who have computers with a broadband connection. Or DSL, or Wi-Fi, or pretty much anything besides dial-up.
3. Pumping gas.
2. The noise my CD player makes when it's changing CD's.
1. Cleaning the stables outside.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a date with a shovel...

Let's see who can come up with the best penname for myself using all the letters from my real name, only scrambled so they no longer appear to be my name. Here you go:

CARLY NICOLE BISHOP.

Whoever comes up with the most convincing, believable name using all and only these letters, will win and I will send that person a delicious cookie as a grand prize. The name you invent can be male or female, I honestly don't care. Each letter in my name can only be used once. So, since there's only one "P" in my name, you can only use it once. However, you can put it anywhere. It can be part of the first, middle, or last name--that doesn't matter. I think you basically get the picture.

And if you have no desire for a delicious cookie, do this so to please/entertain me. Besides, I need a penname for this monologue I'm writing for my acting class. Thanks, everyone! This shall be fun!

I have a philosophy test in about fifiteen minutes.

If those of you are willing to, would you mind saying a quick prayer for me? I'm not the logical type and these tests sometimes go against my natural thinking.

Thank you much.

I have this driving wish to be tolerant of people. Especially to those who irritate me like you can't even imagine. However, when it becomes too difficult to smile, to nod in that person's direction, or to be polite and acknowledge them for being whoever it is they are, I can do one last thing--ignore them completely.

A girl walked into my poetry class today with the phrase "DON'T STARE AT ME" written on her forehead in big, blue letters. She sat two seats down from me. I couldn't even bring myself to tilt my head in her direction. Not only was she telling me what to do, but it was with her forehead. Everyone else who read the billboard written on her face turned and asked her what it was all about. Of course, she delighted in telling the story. I refused to listen.

It's not the deed that deserves attention and respect, it's the heart. Don't try to entertain me; I know what is worthy of my admiration and it's simply this--genuinity.

After coming home from taking Kyle to school, I went back to bed.

When I woke up, I actually remembered what I had dreamt about and I was disturbed by what it had been.

In my dream, I was watching a historical documentary hosted by a very young looking Michael Cain. He narrated the history of men who beat up their mothers with large umbrellas and provided ancient documentation revealing how "as a custom," the practice has maintained its cultural dignity. I even saw old footage from the 1930's where a man turns and beats his 60-year-old mother with her own pink umbrella.

Why?

Kyle entered my room this morning. Again.

"Carly, let's go to school."

"I can't believe it..."

"...Can't believe what?"

"It's just laundry."

"What?"

"It's only been two days since we did our laundry."

"Okay?...Can you take me to school?"

I roll over to my left side and look up at him.

"Maybe if you keep hovering over me like that, I will."

"Ok, now you're awake..."

"...What?"

"Nothing."

You want to know about my life? You want to know every scrappy detail about it? You desire nothing more than to see every last bit and piece of my story, of my mind, of my heart, of myself?

What is wrong with you?

Fine. I'll concede. I'll give you the moments of my life that stick out in my mind right now.

On January 16, 1984, I was born in Long Beach, California--it was the rainest day of that year in the southern California area. My dad kept the newspaper delivered on that day. He did the same thing for my older sister, who is now 21 years old and married, and my younger brother, currently 15 years old and learning how to drive.

My best friend's name was Jason Kacura and when you say his last name really fast, it sounds like a sneeze, pronounced "Kuh-chur-uh." When I was six years old, I told him I was going marry him and he told me likewise. The last time I saw Jason was two years ago in May when I flew to my hometown for my cousin's bridal shower. I had arrived to California in a state of sickness. I had a consistent fever between 102 and 104 degrees the entire time I was there. Despite how miserable my body felt, I went to Jason's doorstep, unannounced and completely "out of the blue." The look on his face when he saw me (the first time in six years) is permanently etched in my mind. Priceless. During the four days of my visit, I saw him at least once each day and usually several hours at a time. We went to see the Disney movie, "Dinosaur," together, which neither of us found any more impressive than "Little Foot" and his reptillious companions. Among the things we did: went to the park and had a picnic, took long walks around my old neighborhood, and went to the beach. And although I was pitifully sick, I was desperate to go to the beach, not having been since I moved away in 1993. Jason never knew how sick I was, so when I proposed we go to see Seal Beach, he didn't protest. When we arrived the weather turned strangely cold and grey clouds drew across a beautiful blue sky. The ocean lost its friendliness and was less than 50 degrees. We jumped in. Actually, I jumped in and when Jason didn't, I pulled him in with me. That was a really fun time.

I graduated from high school last year on June 12th. That night I wore a really cute white skirt with a blue strappy-tank-top. It was was the first time Ryan had ever seen me dress in anything girlish or fancy. He had a crush on me for that one night. Good thing it didn't last. He was really nice to me when we were hanging out, too. I was the only girl and treated me like one. He gave me his sweater to wear when I got cold and I thought that was a very gentlemanly thing to do.

"As It Stands"
The Juliana Theory

Everything I have in my head
It begins to fade away
I search for it, I long for it
And now I know it’s gone
Everything has slipped away

I’m so overwhelmed
Everything that rests upon my shoulders fell
I would like to tell anyone who has depended on me for themselves,
"I’m sorry."

And everyone I’ve held in my arms
I believe I pushed away
I would be there if I could be there
But as it stands, I’m gone
Everyone has slipped away

And don’t be overwhelmed
Everyone that loved me more than I could tell
"I’m sorry."
There’s a private hell for anyone who lives to only love themselves

Everyone has slipped away
Everyone has slipped away
Everyone has slipped away
Everything has slipped away.

Pure goodness. What are you waiting for? Buy it.

I got the new Juliana Theory today.

I am a happy girl in the midst of potential fear. I'll try to explain more later. Right now, it's not a smart thing to write when one's thoughts and feelings are battling a war for understanding.

I need a public opinion.

I have several on-campus student employment options at Bethany Bible College.

They are the following:

Bookstore Clerk - to assist in all aspects of the bookstore operation including sales, cash, cleaning, inventory control, etc.
Computer Lab Monitor - supervise the use of the computers during lab hours.
Janitor - Dusting, cleaning the floors and washrooms, the collection/removal of garbage, etc.
Library Worker - to assist with various aspects of the library.
Mail Delivery - deliver and pick up mail. Must have use of a vehicle. I won't have that use, so ignore this one.
Office Worker - to assist in various aspects of office operations.
Security - unlock college buildings in the morning and lock up at night checking doors, windows and thermostats.
Cafeteria Cashier - collection of appropriate funds for meals served plus maintaining accurate records.
Cafeteria Server - serving the noon and evening meals plus some cleanup duties.
Concession Worker - serving/preparing various snack foods plus some cleanup duties. Responsible for the collection of funds and maintaining accurate records.
Dishwasher - washing all dishes/silverware after every meal plus cleanup of tables, waste and dish washing area.
Pot Washer - washing all pots and pans after the noon and evening meals plus cleanup of the pot washing area.
Mopper - cleaning the floors in kitchen/cafeteria area.

Which do you recommend? Which do you think I should express interest? Help a girl out.

Strangeness Uniqueness runs in the family.

Ridiculousness. A girl about 15 years of age, dressed in clothes way too tight for her body frame, was running about The Roxy tonight yelling, "Free hugs! Who wants free hugs!?" However, there was something about her that made one hesitate to do so. She was covered in suds. That's right, bubbles. The girl was dowsed in clumps of soapy, foamy, pine-scented bubbles. She pranced about, swinging her pudgy arms, and rubbing up against whatever guy she could. I felt such pity for every male who was unable to defend himself from a mouthful of soapy inconsideration.

Did she really think it would be cool to act in such a manner? Did she really think the guys would suddenly find her appealing and attractive because she was covered in wet bubbles?

The night ended and we left to catch the early ferry back home. As we passed through the Roxy's doors, I suddenly thought to myself, How was that girl able to do that, anyway? Where are the bubbles?

We walked about ten yards down the street whereafter I saw the fountain. Bubbles were produced at such a rapid rate, much of the foamy white suds were beginning to pour over into the streets. They had taken Dawn or some other dishwasher liquid and squirted the material into the fountain's statue, whose form I could not identify due to the fact it was covered in bubbles.

Bubbles. I don't think I've ever said the word so many times in one night. Bubbles. It's quite a funny word when you think about it. Bub-bles.

Girls, I tell you now, guys won't like you if you're covered in bubbles. Just smile and look them in the eye--that's all the attraction you need.

No matter how hard I try, I just can't stay away...

Yet another not-well-thought-out post:

I had an excellent talk with Ryan tonight. It was about time, too, because I haven't talked to that kid (or any of the Bethany kids) for well over a week now. This long-distance communication thing is becoming emotionally draining. Most of my friends are at this school and the majority of them I've never technically met before. Yes, very odd indeed.

Hello special people, Ryan and Kate, who I've actually had physical contact with! Hugs are an amazing thing, aren't they?

Long-distance communication isn't just tedious with the kids from Newbie but also with friends closer to home, but just not close enough. Steph in Tacoma. Leah in Langley. Evan (although we're not as close as we used to be...) in Indiana. All people I love dearly, all people that require a long-distance plan.

Indeed, Jets, down with money. I put $10 on my phone card tonight. I used up nearly half of it. There's just no way around this--money sucks and I will spend my life managing it and using it.

Well then, it comes down to this and in the amazing scheme of things, this is all that matters:

I have God.

From my Valentine.

I don't have have never had a boyfriend and dating is no fun, but sweet candy hearts certainly are great.

Random post consisting of unedited thoughts:

I've decided to just write without thinking or trying really hard to be creative or anything of the sort. Sometimes, when you take those English classes, your teacher will say, "I want you to write without thinking for this-many-minutes. Just let your pencil touch paper and don't think. If all you do is write 'I don't know what write...' then that's fine. Just so long as you're writing. So go."

So here I go. I'm writing. What to write? What to write? Sometimes it's hard to be creative on the spot. Most of the time, I have to premeditate on things and make sure when it comes out, it's totally awesome and fun and entertaining. I was thinking last night about how cool it would be to get published. Or if I died or something and my parents went through my room and found my journals. Or the books I've written to friends. Prayer journals and the like. There's so much. What would they do? There would be an entire Carly series, and most of it would be garbage. Seriously, most of it is unfinished stuff. Screenplays and ideas. Most of the time, I never complete them. I jot them down and then my mind becomes so cluttered with ideas, I can't think straight and then I never finish. It's quite sad really.

Anyways, got distracted. Totally lost where I was going. Now I have to start all over. What to write? What to write? Ok, so I was thinking about my friends and how I love them and how I care about them and how much I wish we could all live in one big house and eat breakfast together every morning and play games all day, like one big family. Except, none of us would have to work or make money and all we would do all day is talk about stuff and hang out. It would be the grandest life ever. Except of course, everyone would want to eventually get married and then there might be lots of drama and such and that's not cool...

Ok, like I said. When I don't premeditate this stuff, I totally write randomly. It drives me nuts. I feel so boring. In fact, I know this must be boring. So I'm going to stop. Besides, it's been five minutes now, and I figure if I was in an English class right now, it's about now that my teacher would say, "Ok, find a place to stop and perhaps we can have some volunteers read what they wrote..." And I guarantee that none of what I have written here just now would be something I'd read aloud.

So boring.

Later, all.

ANGST!

I want to do this because I miss this, but I can't because of this!

SO MUCH ANGST!!!

I studied this week. I dove into my work. I soaked it all up like a sponge. Geology, the study of the Earth and it's incredible characteristics. The sun is just another star in the sky. The most important part of land erosion is running water. The most commonly known drainage pattern is the dendritic pattern. Eighty percent of an iceberg's mass is submerged in water. Chapters four and five--I know my stuff. I've got "mad skills."

Quiz time.

My Resulting Score: 67/100.

What happened?

I look back at the quiz title.

"Week Four, Quiz Three - Chapters 3 & 4."

I wondered why I didn't know what they meant by mass wasting... Yeah, because I hadn't even read the right section.

Ditz.

"The truth is no one can prevent you from obeying God's will. When God tells you to proceed, no power on earth can thwart God's intentions. The world may tell you the door is closed, but you never know that for sure until God says so. While it may appear a door of opportunity for a job or place of service has been closed to you, God promises that no one can close the door of access to his presence. As long as your access to God is intact, every resource of God remains available to you.

When we are in the midst of bewildering circumstances, that is not the time to make conclusions about what God is like... We ought always to assume that God loves us and is in control of our world. Based on those truths we can approach him with confidence and wait patiently for him to reveal why he is allowing us to experience our present circumstances... We generally learn far more about what lies within our hearts when we experience hardship than when we are receiving a blessing. We also tend to rely more on God's grace when we are enduring trials than when we are enjoying comfort.

... Do not try to understand God based on your circumstances. Go to God and ask him to help you see your situation from his perspective... If there is no clear instruction, wait and do the last thing you know God told you to do. Waiting is not inactivity but continuing until God speaks.

... How do you choose which doors of opportunity to enter? Have you entered doors you should not have? Have you assumed a door was closed before you sought a clear word from God?

... Are you alert to God to recognize his voice in the midst of your circumstances?"

Hearing God's Voice, Henry and Richard Blackaby

February 5, 2003: A lesson well-wrote.

The reality of graduation is starting to make itself known. There are few things that can get under my skin, and this is one of them. Not only does it dwell underneath, but it seems to hibernate within the very fibers of my flesh. I can feel it. It's different. Not irritating, no. It's one of those things where you know when it happens, your life is going to be different. Permanently.

After this quarter, I will have 30 credits left to complete for my two-year degree. I'll be taking 25 of those next quarter. That's a lot of class. A full load here is 15 credits. I'll need to take the remaining 5 credits this summer.

Then I'm done. I'll have my degree. And shoot--I'm only 19. I think that's pretty swell.

Which John Cusack Are You?

Good. I really enjoyed that movie. But really, you cannot go wrong with any John Cusack character. Even when he was in Con Air, he was sexy and desirable... Shutting up.

I've written a lot today and I'm actually kind of burnt out on the keyboard. I am going to take the rest of my day and spend it completely seperated from blogger. Uh-oh is correct, my friend, and it's not even 4:00 yet.

However, if you are desperate for conversation, or you simply haven't talked to me in a while, just give me a call. If not, I'll entertain myself with a box full of toothpicks.

Until tomorrow!

The birds at school, I kid you not, are suicidal. I don't know what type they are or how long they live, but I know they think they're invincible and they freak me out. They dive in front of cars passing by, escaping a very brutal, but very blunt, death by about a quarter of an inch. Not only will they do this individually, but they'll also do it as one big flock. If a car so happens to hit a couple, the birds seem to enjoy the challenge.

"Well, guys, that's four out of... How many of us are there? 200?... Pretty good, everyone! But maybe next time, we can get that down to one or two. Let's split that number in half, ladies and gentlemen!"

And when I walk outside the campus building and start walking the quarter mile to my car, I look up and to the right, where the evergreens reach higher than I'd like to imagine. Everything is quiet, no one else is around because it's raining outside. Slowly, steadily, the screeching of a mass population of teeny fowl rises out from the trees. They taunt me, they torment me, and they're questioning whether or not they should dive in front of me next...

Ever see the movie Birds? Yeah, don't.

I am officially the happiest girl on the planet right now. I don't have to wait until February 25th to hear everything off of Switchfoot's newest, "The Beautiful Letdown." Not that I'm not going to go straight out and buy it for myself when it is released! It's just great, because now I'm going to know all the words to every song before anyone else does.

Sometimes it's ok to be fanatical about something. Just so long as it doesn't become an idol in my own life. Everything I participate in must benefit me in my relationship with Christ. My family does that. My friends do that. Even my education at Cascadia Community College does that. And yes, of course, music does that too. Because they're all helping me to become more reliant on God rather than on people. Switchfoot's message is one that challenges me to pursue God with a passion, with a fire burning in my heart. And not long from now, the Bible will challenge me in that same way. I never understood why I couldn't (rather I wouldn't) connect with the Bible or understand it very much. It didn't take long for me to become afraid of it--fearing that whatever I may read inside was going to condemn me straight to hell. I know with a professor guiding me through it, showing me verses, asking me difficult questions, and teaching me, I'll come to appreciate God's Word so much more. I know I'll finally begin to accept what it has to offer my life, which is what I've desired since I was eight years old.

Right now, Jon is singing, "I'm on fire when You're near me... I'm on fire when You speak... I'm on fire burning at these mysteries..."

Keep on, Jon... Keep on.

The Many Faces of Kyle: substantial proof my little brother is a living cartoon character.

I have nights where I just can't get to sleep. My thoughts keep me awake. My fears. My sins. My faith. I can't just close my eyes and slip peacefully into unconsciousness. No, I must shoot out of bed a couple times and begin some sort of activity in efforts to redirect my own thinking.

I'm starting to think it's caffeine.

The majority of my class time is spent reorganizing my backpack. Pulling out papers I know I don't need anymore. Putting assignments back in my binder in correct order, chronologically by date. Disposing of every last pen that hasn't a dot of ink left. Ridding myself of the pencils that just don't look new anymore and have basically used up their existence. My professors are content because they see me taking notes, they see me turn the pages of my textbook, they understand me, despite my preoccupied clutter taking up two desk spaces instead of one.

Except in my philosophy class. While everyone works at perfecting their Venn diagram skills, I'm busily writing out Switchfoot lyrics--they're the only thing that keep me sane.

Correction: Forty-seven days left until I leave for New Brunswick, Canada. Not forty-eight. Forty-seven. Just so we're clear. That's less than seven weeks away.

*and the angels in Heaven rejoiced.

Friday night was an event I started preparing for the moment I said "sure" to Austin and Seth's proposal. A total 30 minutes in the spotlight and I was finished. All the hype beforehand was overwhelming. So many friends came--so much more than I expected. My family came--unbelievable. The kids I babysit and their parents--incredible. People I know were coming at me left and right and from behind. Later, when you watch the video of the moments prior to my performance, you'll see how distant my mind really was.

"Carly... Carly... Carly... Carly... Carly!" Kyle, my little brother and best friend, was about six inches away from my face. I finally look into the camera lens, suddenly hearing my name for the first time.

People were calling out my name so much Friday night, I fear I was oblivious to some very important people who came to support me. I'm not usually so distracted, separated, or inconsiderate--at least I try really hard not to be. No one is more important than the other. No one deserves more attention than the other. I know it's true, but how do you distribute equal amounts of recognition or consideration? How do you not make someone feel left out?

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was not my intention to do such a selfish thing! All I remember is she came, even though she was sick! And not only did she come, but she brought her sister. When I saw her sister had come, my heart was blessed. I know her sister can sing like none other, but she wasn't singing that night. I was. Although I wouldn't have minded in the least if she had. I remember seeing them for about two minutes and that's it. I don't know where they went and I didn't see them after I played. I should have gone running about in search of them, but like a jerk, I stood in one place while everyone came up to me and gave me their own version of a pat on the back.

"Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it," I rehearsed this phrase after speaking with Dan from Red Virginia.

"You'd be insulting someone who loved your show by saying something like 'Yeah, right!' or 'Shut up! I was awful!'"

"Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"That's all you gotta say," Dan may be the most sarcastic human being I've ever met on the face of the earth, but he still has intelligent things to say.

Honestly though... I really suck right now. I owe her a serious apology. I wish I knew what she thought about the show. Her opinion is one I really respect, but I obviously didn't show her that on Friday night. Like I said, I really suck right now.

A very special moment when I laughed until I started crying hysterically. Once the stomach cramps started to really hurt, I had to stop reading halfway through. After catching a few extra breaths, I finished the rest of the piece and proceded to fall out of my chair. Please tell me I'm not the only one who finds this extruciatingly funny. Please.

I've had some of the best conversations with my sister in the entire time of our relationship, and they are unique for two very specific reasons: 1) they all happened today in less than a 24-hour period, and 2) they all happened over the Internet, in little text-message boxes.

She and I have decided to become a support group. We both have this incredible desire to lose weight and have always, always, always struggled. Mostly, it's genetics. For those of you who have seen my dad, you know what I'm referring to. Lucky for us, he married my mom, 5'1" and 130 pounds. Between the two of them, Cassie and I came out average.

Average.

But I think we've decided today, we don't want to be average. We want to be knock-outs. We want to feel good about how we look.

Cassie said, "I wanna wear a bikini by this summer!"

I'm thinking, I just wanna know what I look like by this summer.

I always thought one of the coolest feelings in the world would be to get picked up by one of my guy friends and know that he didn't have to struggle to do so...

Pray for Cassie and me. We've decided to revolutionize our bodies.

Exclusive:



I'm still getting over it.

Tonight could not have gone better. Actually, I take that back, it could have... But it was so much better than I ever imagined it could be, and nothing tops that.

I give my thanks to everyone who showed so much support tonight. You're prayers, thoughts, and encouraging words are what put me on that stage. You and God's amazing grace which He has so willingly given me. I loved being up there.

I gotta keep doing this. Exactly this.