Nicole should be the only girl allowed to be part of the Lost Boys in the storybooks of Peter Pan in Never-Never Land. She deserves it.

carly: You're signin name reminds me of something I wrote a long time ago.
People and I have a love/hate relationship sorta thing going on...: that's cuz it's identical
People and I have a love/hate relationship sorta thing going on...: i had to hunt it down
carly: Hunt what down? Something on my blog?
People and I have a love/hate relationship sorta thing going on...: the quote
carly: Your signin name quotes me?
People and I have a love/hate relationship sorta thing going on...: yup
People and I have a love/hate relationship sorta thing going on...: is that ok?
carly: Yeah... It's just a first for me.
People and I have a love/hate relationship sorta thing going on...: haha

Some people blog because they like to talk about themselves.
Some people blog because they like to share their lives with others.
Some people blog because they feel the compulsion to write.
Some people blog because it makes them feel good about themselves.
Some people blog because they like to write stories.
Some people blog because they enjoy receiving comments (compliments?).
Some people blog because they're too scared to express themselves verbally.
Some people blog because they think they could be famous.
Some people blog because they think the world is fascinating.
Some people blog because their words become immortalized online.

People like me blog because my life (my opinions? my thoughts? my dreams? my ego?) is just too entertaining to go unnoticed. And that's just the plain "gash-darn" truth.

Housesitting always causes me to long for my own place. Obviously because, for a brief moment, a house becomes my own. For a few short days, I'm completely alone. I can fully relax. All is right with the world. I realize that were this house actually mine, I would probably be stressing about which bills to pay for and all the things that need repair. But I still consider myself a kid and I enjoy the fact that I don't have to concern myself with those things... yet. Sure, money is important and I need more of it--that's a given. But gas, heat, electric, utilities, whatnot? I'm not gonna even pretend I care about that stuff. Whenever I housesit, I pretend to be a mulit-millionaire who has her own personal accountant (trustworthy and dedicated to me) who takes care of all my expenses. Far-fetched, yes, but like I said before--I'm just a kid!

Class elections are today. Running for Vice President--Martin Smith (I don't know his real name off the top of my head and it honestly doesn't matter all too much). His booth is set up just outside Cascadia's doors. "Vote SMITH for Vice President!" He has candy and cool stickers set out. I always thought elections would go better if, instead of candy, they laid out silver money, and instead of stickers, gave paper bills. What's that you say? Bribery?? Well, duh! Of course it's bribery. And what would you call the candy and stickers? Anyhow, that's beside the point. So Smith's booth is all decked out in cool junk, but where is Smith? Oh... I see him... He's about thirty feet down the sidewalk, leaning against the building, backed turned against everyone, smoking a cigarette... That's how you win the people, man. That's how you get... the votes.

Psychology is a fascinating course and I have to get back to it. Enjoy this lack-of-any-real-theme blog.

I only have one thing to say at the moment...

Jon Johnson licked my eyeball. His tongue. My eyeball. Together as one for about three quarters of a second.

There are a lot of things I need to ponder over, so I've decided to take Tuffy and ride him to a very solitary place. I realize it's late and dark outside, but the facts remain--the stars are out, the clouds are few, and I desperately need to spend some time in silence and seperated from human contact. Even if that time is only a couple short hours.

I'm only praying that after the time is spent, perhaps some of my life will be made more clear to me. Because as of right now, there are too many things all around clouding my mind. A brief moment away, meditating on the individual stars set in the sky, and listening for a silent Voice to sound...

A man wearing a tight black T-shirt and jeans was walking through the parking lot. Steph and I saw him as we pulled in, looking for a parking space. In the middle of our conversation, we both saw him and it immediately effected our speech...

"And then he... was... um... like... er..."

We watched as he passed and noticed how he couldn't pull his arms completely down to his sides, because...

"His muscles are huge! Look at his biceps, Carly! They're as big as my head!"

Anyway... I thought it was funny. When he ended up being in the same ice cream place as we went, let alone the person ahead of us in line... We had to retreat to the bathroom and wait there until we knew we could handle being around the guy. Basically, all I could think about was how he ate his ice cream when his muscles wouldn't allow his arms to bend all the way.

A night out... Singing Queens.

Ewan McGregor, my own personal eye candy.

Time for a free write!!!

I'll walk through the underbrush and I know what I'll see. I know I'll find you, sitting there, rubbing your hands together and thinking... I wonder what she'll do to me if I look her in the eyes... And I'll be wondering the same thing about you. Because I'm not in the mood for losing anything to anyone, even if it is to someone as special as yourself. You feel lost. Well. So do I. In a storm, but instead of dust and rain clouding around my eyes, I can see nothing but rose petals plucked from their buds and prickling thorns that have been freshly shorn from their stems.

You've got the whole world in your eyes. A couple of the surrounding galaxies are hidden comfortably in your pockets. You seem to possess it all. What have I? You are loved and pined after, while I am stuck on the back end of the alligator spine. Scales and green and teeth and hearts that belong to everybody else. Nobody and that's me. At least, I think Nobody to you. Until yet.

For all the embers and all the ashes that cover your heart, I thought there was a time when I could see my reflection burning there. Maybe a minute or two. All my compulsions aside. I'm not sure what matters anymore. I've dived into something bigger than my self and I'm scared it's extinguished the flames. Like salt in your eye, I've turned your heart against itself. One way or the other. I've come to an impass. And waiting. For something. To push me. Passed the line. Of your everything.

PERSONAL FRIDAY!

BOY NEXT DOOR

Confident, reliable, SM (single male), 18, Capricorn,
N/S (non-smoker), enjoys hiking, dancing, bike rides
and more. Seeking true woman, 18-22, N/S, for LTR
(long term relationship). Aberdeen.

Reminiscing over a good book.

"...And I could see this boy at home doing his homework and thinking about my sister naked. And I could see them both holding hands at football games that they do not watch. And I could see this boy throwing up in the bushes at a party house. And I could see my sister putting up with it.

And I felt very bad for both of them."
- the perks of being a wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky

5 Good Somethings

1. It stopped raining.
2. The sun is shining.
3. My headache is gone.
4. "More Than Words" is playing on my stereo.
5. It's Friday and I don't have class.

"All I want is a guy who I can reveal myself to and who will willingly reveal himself to me." - Anonymous

Notice, I don't really talk about dating relationships here. At least, nothing in relation to me. And for good reason!

I tried...

Unsatisfied. I am very unsatisfied with everything. And the more I think about things I could do, the more unsatisfied I become with them. Instead of being fickle, I'm just too good for anything. Rather, nothing is good enough for me. Label me whatever you like, it's the plain and simple truth. At school. At home. With family. With friends. I'm unsatisfied with it all. They're all good and I enjoy them for what they are now, but that doesn't make them any more satisfying. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that no one thing and no one person will ever fulfill me. Even God, Himself, makes it so that He can never be fully attained. While I love Him and desire Him with every fiber of my being, He will never satisfy the relationship we have until the moment I die or a few moments after. To be perfectly honest, it ticks me off a bit. Because with my "I can't get no satisfaction" attitude comes a persistent question: What am I supposed to do? And still, I know nothing. I am never quite at peace with my life and that aggravates me to no end. I guess I'm still just longing for things, big and small, to change. And I find myself growing quite impatient.

This morning, on the Today Show, this woman, her dog, and her veteranarian were being interviewed.

Define resilience:

The woman's dog, named Doshey, was let out one morning so she could do her "business." After about 10 minutes, the woman went out to call her dog back out only to discover a chaotic scene not too far away. Doshey, her beloved, had been hit by a fairly large truck. A police officer was nearby and saw what had happened. After examining Doshey and assessing her condition based soley on his own understanding, he decides to put Doshey "out of her misery" and shoot her. From about five feet away, he puts one bullet through her head and calls it good. The woman, now arriving to the scene, exclaims, "Why did you shoot my dog?! We could have taken her to the hospital!" In reply, the police officer says, "We didn't have that kind of time." Doshey, a boxer-type dog, lay limp on the street until a group came to haul her away. She was taken to the nearest animal hospital where she was quickly declared "dead" and placed in a, excuse the pun, doggie-bag. Her body, in the bag, was placed inside... the freezer. Basically, the doggie-morgue. About two hours later, one of the vets opened Doshey's door and to her surprise, found Doshey sitting upright from within the bag!

Let's re-cap!

1. Hit by a truck.
2. Shot through the head (apparently not well).
3. Placed in a freezer for two hours.

Reporter: "What do you expect from Doshey now that she's on the mend?"

Veteranarian: "We expect a full recovery."

I wish it were that way with my cat. The infamous, plotting, devious, German-accented, gray feline--Derby. May she fly in heavenly space, plotting my family's demise throughout eternal bliss.

My first...

Audblog update: The system is down... or something. Because I cannot get it to work. I have contacted the audblog people to see if I can't get any help, so far I haven't heard back from them. Trust me, I'm working on it. It will work. I promise. Until then, I'm still thinking of things worthy of writing about.

Here's something--

I was with my dad this morning in the car. We were at the post office. As we drove through, I noticed the car in front of us had signs taped to the back windshield. Both homemade, probably written on typical printer paper. The one on the left read, "LET'S BOMB SUDDAM!" and the one to the right read, "GIVE WAR A CHANCE!" And I didn't know quite what to think about that, except for how much I felt bad for the guy driving the car. Because I figure lots of people against the war aren't very kind to him after reading those signs.

Coldplay "Clocks" has the "number two" spot on VH1's "Top Twenty Countdown" and it's playing as I write this out...

One day, I'm going to be sitting on the piano bench next to Chris Martin while he plays that song. And believe me when I say that I could die the moment after that and be completely happy.

I am having a good day. Let me provide you a list as to why:

1. Took a shower.

There's something about an early morning shower that is more gratifying than anything else during the time you are in the shower. Sure, there are other things greater. But when you're performing the act of showering... At that moment, nothing beats it. Not one single thing.

2. Honey Nut Cheerios.

Dry cereal. No milk. Crunchy goodness that makes for excellent breakfast snacking. Measured out and poured into a small tupperware to tote to psychology class where we talk about brains and the human psyche. Munchables as class wears on, providing a sweet taste in your mouth making it (at least, during psychology class) the best thing you'll ever taste.

3. Compliments.

My dad still knows me. He still remembers who I was when I was three, four, and five and he knows who I am now. And when he reminisces about when I was five years old with long blonde hair... And when he tells me how I was nicknamed "the fiend" because I was always plotting something, thinking of different ways to do a certain thing... And how I got a very distinct "fiendish" look on my face whenever I was in "fiend-mode"... That moment is one I wish would keep going, so I'll push him to talk more about it, "Am I still a fiend, dad?" And he says, "Yeah, but just not as devious as you once were." And I ask, "Do I still plot things?" And he says, "I think you do, but they're more of just plans now..." And I ask, "Do I still get that fiendish look on my face?" And he says, "Sometimes, I can see it. In your eyes." And then we both laugh and tease each other about other things, too.

4. New email.

Who doesn't hold their breath the moment just after they've signed in to their email account? Who doesn't bite their bottom lip in anticipation, hoping to see that someone, somewhere, wants to make contact with you? I know I do. My breath is locked inside my chest and my lips are pressed shut, and when "1 (sometimes up to 8) New Email Message(s)" appears on my screen, and when everything in me is released... That's the greatest feeling I could have sitting there, just then. At that moment, nothing tops it. Especially when the computer connection is broadband. All that much sweeter.

5. Talking to my best friend.

Even though it was for a short while, it was wonderful to see her name back on my buddylist again. She has "lented" from Messenger for about six weeks now and I have missed our conversations terribly. Today, her name appeared and I swear, I gasped. There are several moments that can't be beat in this one... You can't beat it when she says "HI!" You can't beat it when she says "yay!" And you can't be it when she ends the conversation with "LOVE!" along with some shibboleths no one else could ever understand because "you weren't there when it happened."

6. Naps.

Nothing's better than the moment I click the "Post & Publish" button so to go to my room and collapse in bed for an hour or two. Nope. Not one single solitary thing is better.

I think this pretty much says it all.

Something has washed over me in the last couple hours... I feel renewed. And what better day to feel as such than Easter Sunday.

I just finished having dinner with my family. My mom, my dad, my brother, and me. Sitting at a dinner table. Together. For the first time in months upon months. However, because today is Easter, daily routine no longer applies. Mashed potatoes are made, dad-style. There's a roast. Rolls with butter and jam. Ah yes, and macaroni salad. Even the nice dishes have been set out. This is a big deal, people. It's an event. And I was dreading it. In fact, just prior to the meal, I locked myself in my room and played my guitar, in hopes to drown out what I knew was the inevitable. While I wish my family ate dinner together more often, I also don't enjoy it when we do. Mom and dad end up talking business and if Kyle or I want to discuss something, it usually turns into some sort of family controversy. I don't know how to explain it. Dinner-table conversation. It's hardly pleasant. I realize it could be much worse. My parents could be fighting and my brother and I could be trying to kick each other underneath the table. Knocking over glasses and rolling eyes. All of that. Believe me, I know I've got it pretty good. And guess what--I've got it even better...

Because dinner was wonderful. Family was wonderful. Everything was nice and friendly and no one was in a bad mood. It was a fabulous hour and by the time I was finished, full with a well-cooked meal, I was happy. Full and happy. Prepared to make some changes and start breathing some fresh air. In the next couple months, I'm going to start embracing life as it draws more and more near. Participating in my own life, because I think I deserve that much.

A list is on its way. Things I want to see change. Things I want to add. My life, my changes, in hopes to see a vast amount of results. Happy, splendid results. Becoming the person I feel called to be. I'll give it as soon as I'm finished. Until then, just having the support of friends is wonderful and encouraging. Whether they be near or far, I enjoy their words. It is especially cool since so many friends are coming home so soon. And will be here for a healthy amount of time. My friends are better than any prescription medicine you could ever receive. Even in the smallest doses.

Happy Easter, everyone. May God bless you this holy day. And every other day, too.

Audioblogs. Soon to come. Be ready.

PERSONAL FRIDAY SATURDAY!

I had to post them both. They were just too good.

LOOKING FOR

...long term relationship w/ big white female,
40 to 60, narrow waist, big hips, pear-shaped
kind of figure, for togetherness, affection, din-
ners, communcation & travelling. Call me.

RUSSIAN BRIDES

Family oriented ladies seek LTR (long term
relationship) or marriage with American men.

I wrote a new song.

Your Own Stars
by carly bishop

No one can tell you how to change
It has to come from your heart
Like when you see an angel's wings
Reaching inside for your own stars

I know you're searching, I can see
I'd like to say I think you're right
Truth be told, you've got what it takes
Stand back up; the sky's not blind

[chorus]
Up high where you can see
For you, that love is never far
For you, that place will always be
A place to keep your own stars

Never known, but picturesque
In your eyes, mysteriousness
Dreams at night will hold you down
Release your breath, and fly away

[chorus]
Up high where you can see
For you, that love is never far
For you, that place will always be
A place to keep your own stars

[bridge]
Your own stars
Your own stars
You've got to keep your own stars

Today, my Jones Soda fortune read, "You have artistic talent. Do something creative."

So... I did something I haven't done in well over a year. A self portrait.

PERSONAL FRIDAY!

...Will have to wait because I didn't get the personal ads this week. Be prepared for a doozy sometime tomorrow.

Those wild and crazy kids...

Babysitting today. It was time for lunch.

Elise: Car-Car? What are we having for lunch?

Me: We, Esie, are having hot dogs!

Elise: What are hot dogs??

Me: ...Esie. You know what hot dogs are.

Elise: Oh, "Hot dogs!" I thought you said... Umm... "Hoss Togs"...

Me: Hoss togs?

Elise: Yeah. Speak more clearly next time.

Me: Ok.

Allow me to explain my last post. I have, in so many words, run head first into a wall. I am smashed, pressed... Basically, I'm just one big mess.

Wednesday morning, my alarm went off. The time was 8:00 am and I was supposed to begin preparing myself for my psychology class. Did I? Absolutely not. I turned the alarm off and rolled over, and happily did so. I knew it wasn't a smart idea and that it wasn't in my best interest to miss class. I still didn't get up. Reason being, I just didn't care. I had no desire to care, either. I took pleasure in knowing that I was being lazy and lacked any motivation. Because for the last seven months, I have been working on school; I push myself to complete as much as I can, the best I can, as quickly as I can. For the most part, I've loved it. I haven't regretted a single thing. At least, nothing that pertains to school. I am overworked, nonetheless, and now I think I've pushed myself into a sort of sickly state.

I've been having these heachaches. Chronic and localized in certain parts of my head. Moving too quickly brings a throbbing pain. As do bright lights. Tylenol, Excedrin, anything that contains caffeine--nothing seems to really help. So (and you've probably noticed as of late) I start thinking irrationally. I wonder if it's like a brain tumor... And I start to worry. About myself and about everyone else I care about. The concern I have for myself and others becomes overwhelming. I wouldn't say it takes over, but it does have a strong influence on my overall well-being.

I've hung myself. In a very short time, too. School started again just slightly more than two weeks ago. And I've already found myself stifled and hindered by self-imposed stress. My outlook does not look good. Not unless I change something, and immediately. I thought I was making things simpler. I let go of my guitar lessons, sadly. I've turned loose the semi-burden of giving horseback riding lessons. I've removed 1/4 of my belongings from my room and plan to sell them by the month's end. What I felt was the stripping away of unnecessary responsibilities was only the opportunity to fill those voids with more unnecessary crap. I have got to stop.

I talked to my sister about it tonight. Her words that struck me most were, "Breathe some fresh air."

My nose is presently clogged. Dad said, "Your allergies, Car. Spring has come. It's your allergies." But I don't think that's it at all. I've clogged my sinuses with a stifled and inactive life. The world is my playground and I've put myself in a "time-out." Well, no more of that crap! I'm tagging myself back in the game!

Because when it comes to touch-football, I've been known to make a few touch-downs...

Sometimes, I wish things of the past never happened so that I wasn't so afraid of them now.

I fear death. And I fear signs of iminent death. And I feel so pathetic when I'm too scared to find out if it's anything serious. So ridiculously pathetic.

Have you ever found yourself worrying about something for no particular reason? Nothing has tipped you off. You haven't heard any bad news. It's just like if you'd had a dream one night, could have been good or bad, and then about two days later something happens in your life that makes you say, "That's weird... I had a dream about that just a couple nights ago..." Mere coincidence? Maybe. Devine intuition? Maybe. I never quite know what to think whenever it happens to me... Right now, I'm just a tad bit aggravated, because I'd like to think about something else. I'd like to bring my focus back to where I am right now, but a certain someone won't leave my mind and I'm starting to think there's a reason why, but no one's told me it yet.

On a better note! I got my paper done and sent it to my online prof. Hopefully, it meets her requirements. She wasn't too clear as to what those were, so I gave it my best shot.

Oh yeah! And even better news! Clay is still in the running on American Idol... I realize that's rather shallow and vain... But what can I say? I just think Clay is a gangly version of Superman.

I just did an extreme amount of research in a very short amount of time. Just shy of three hours and I think I am now intellectually prepared to write a paper dedicated to a somewhat engaging subject--the reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone National Park. However, despite how I've researched and kept track of my sources, and though it be true that I love writing almost as much as I love to breathe... I still don't want to write this paper. Why? Because let's face it. Research papers are not fun to write. They require no real sense of creativity or style or voice. It simply wants facts taken from other sources to support a thesis, which in most cases is very boring and/or trite. For this reason, I believe I would never do well as a journalist. I'm not interested in the facts. I'm not interested in who won what court case or who wants an appeal. I simply like people and I enjoy the stories they have to tell.

But who wants to hire someone who writes stories about herself and/or the people she comes across? Who would pay me to have fun?

"You enjoy this work? You enjoy writing about yourself and the people around you? Very good. Here's your weekly paycheck for a rather large sum of money."

That would be too wonderful to be true. Don't you agree?

I'm getting into You
Because You got to me
In a way words can't describe
I'm getting into You
Because I've got to be
You're essential to survive
I'm going to love You with my life

-relientK, from their newest album, Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right, But Three Do

Has anyone ever reached a point in their financial life where they felt infinite? Or limitless? Like it didn't matter how much you spent, you'd always have enough and you'd always have more coming in? I have felt that way for the last two months and it all stopped today. Two months ago, I was secure and had saved up a healthy sum in my checking account. I'd even contributed quite a bit into my savings and I was very proud of that.

Wow. Just as soon as I finished that last sentence, my mom called me.

"I've been meaning to tell you..."

"Yeah, mom?"

"You went a little crazy on your cell phone while you were in California."

"...yeah?"

"You owe me $105 dollars in cell phone charges."

"...Ok."

I can't afford that. I have less than a tenth of what I had two months ago. And now I can't even pay back my mom for the fees for which I'm due. However! There is some good news. I'll be babysitting this Thursday and Friday and housesitting two weeks from now. Everything I have lost spent will come flooding back to me somehow, all credit to God, because I know it's Him who provides it all to me. I also went back to that espresso drive-thru stand and talked to one of the ladies who owns it. Her name was Lynn and she was very friendly and was very interested in my appeal to work. Apparently, my name and phone number, which the girl had written on the white board last week, had been erased and no one was able to get a hold of me. So, persistence, as my sister has been trying to tell me, is key. Lynn took my name and number again and said she or her sister would get a hold of me by the end of the week.

Hopefully, that will become a good source of income. She said tips range anywhere from $60 to $200 a day. That, to me, is incredible. Any tips are good tips.

So, while I'm completely freaked out about money and worried it's all going to go away, things just start flooding in or the potential of things, anyway. Not to mention, there's another cafe stand at Home Depot I've been thinking about. However, I'm only going to keep it in mind for when I think I can work two jobs instead of just the one espresso stand. When I can go to school full-time, work part-time, and be happy at the same time... maybe that's when I'll actually think about getting a second part-time job.

Basically, I'm worried about finances and savings and everything that has to do with money. At the same time, I'm not concerned about what will happen to me or what it's going to take to survive on my own. I feel completely confident in who I am and what it's going to take of me to do well as an independent adult. I realize I'm going to make mistakes and probably find myself in some very difficult situations, but I'm ready for it. Even if I'm not ready, I know I'll get through. Because God won't stand by and watch me sink. Maybe I'll get stuck, but I know He won't let me sink.

Time to take my guitar down to that corner at Starbuck's and see what change I can't collect from people passing by.

I took my brother and his friend Miles to Game Crazy today because they both had things to trade in for money. I saw something on the display and I picked it up. It was a cube-like structure that could open and close, just like a cell phone or a mini-laptop.

"What is this?" I ask.

My brother quickly states, "That's the newest Gameboy Advanced SP."

"Oh..." I open it and note all its features. Four buttons on the right side and the normal button shaped like a plus-sign on the left. It looks no different than a regular Gameboy except for the fact that it can open and close. "What makes this better than a regular Gameboy Advanced?"

"Uh... Well..." my brother stammered. But lucky for him, the Game Crazy employee guy was able to answer my question.

"It's got a light!" the man says with a big grin.

"A light?" I ask.

"Yeah! It's got a LIGHT!" he says again, emphasis on the word "light."

A light. That's it. A light. All the difference. One-hundred bucks for a Gameboy with a light.

"That's it? A light?!" I say, eyes wide.

"Well... It's a really nice feature to have..." he tries.

OH! Well then! Here's $100 and a big fat smile! I've been DYING, just DYING, for a Gameboy with a...

Light.

Usually, I have something to say around this time of day. It's a little after noon, I left my psychology class early, checked my email, talked to a couple friends online... Yet nothing. I've nothing to lend this rather "pointless but ongoing" published piece of literary work hobby. One of two things is occurring. Either a) nothing's on my mind or b) too many things are on my mind. I tend to believe it's the latter. Whoever has nothing on their mind must surely be dead.

It's times like these when I realize, I just need to... FREE-WRITE!!! Be prepared for a good time.

My alarm went off at 8:00 am this morning, which was funny because I had set it for 7:45 am. So I really don't know what happened or whether or not I turned off my alarm and just continued to sleep or if it had never happened at all. It's never easy to to tell.

Duck.

I've been thinking about birds. And now that I have my old car back, which me and my friends nicknamed "The Duck" way-back-when, I think about birds all-the-more. I don't think we ever really called it "The Duck" very regular either. It was just "The Duck" but really it was "Carly's Car" or "Carly's Corolla" or "Bishop's ride" and other things similar to that. So birds. There were two this morning. Canadians. Geese. Staring at the cars going by and I thought it would have been somewhat funny and somewhat evil if they decided to fly across right when a car went by. I know, I can be really cynical and disturbing sometimes.

I think it comes from hanging out with my brother too much because he watched japanimation cartoons a lot and those have a lot of violence, even though it's kind of mild. My brother has Spring Break right now, but my Spring Break was two weeks ago. So I have to keep going to school while he has to stay at home. At the same time, it's ok because he doesn't have a car and can't go anywhere. On the other hand, I do have a car and I chauffer him around all the time because we are friends and what are big sisters for, right?

I have lots of homework to do and I feel kinda crappy about it because I'm only taking 12 credits at school now and it should be rather simple. But it's not. And I'm beginning to see why everyone thought I was so crazy for taking 20 credits every quarter instead of a normal 15. I'm glad I took 20 credits though, because otherwise I wouldn't be graduating from community college this summer with a two-year degree. It's so weird to think about the fact that I went to community college my senior year of high school, because I'll be graduating from Cascadia the same time as the kids who are 2001 high school graduates. And I'm a 2002 high school graduate. So I guess that means I'm ahead of "the game". What is "the game", anyway? I never really knew, but I guess everyone else understands when that phrase is used and I figure I understand enough to make it count.

I don't miss high school, but I miss the course load. And the teachers were, for the most part, a whole lot more easier. Like my english teacher, Mrs. Clark. And my art teacher, Mrs. Saad. And even my US History teacher, Mr. Maegher, who no one liked. Although, I liked him because he said I "set the standard" when it came to projects for the class. And I guess that made me "class pet" and everyone didn't like me because that meant they had to work even harder to "meet the standard" and no one really wants to work hard to get a good grade. Everyone would much rather lounge around and turn in a couple papers every once in a while. I can understand that.

Alright. I figure 15 minutes of free-writing is enough. Hope you can make some sense out of it. There's an obvious difference in style and voice, that I can see. And now, I must go eat. Maybe I'll go find myself a mince pie.

It doesn't take long to discover whether or not a commentor's blog is infinitely an enjoyable read.

This excerpt is something I found particularly hysterical. Thanks Richard, for the laugh.

"Next time i am wearing a suit and i see someyounglady equally well-decked, i shall declare 'We are beauuutiful people', triumphantly, I think. I feel it is on a par with the ole trick (yes, that old chestnut), the one where you write: 'If you werent so attractive i would introduce myself' on a Post-It and stick it on some hot bird's back and continue to walk in the direction you were intent..." - Richard D. Bartlett

I just LOVE music-related debates!

BUT...

I've decided that the comment thread was way too long. If you're interested in music debates as I am and are adament about the importance of quality music, I suggest you check out Jason's post on April 12th and read through the comments. Amazing how unyielding people are sometimes... Including myself.

I slept from 7:45 pm last night through to 4:45 am this morning and I have no clue as to why. I guess, sometimes... these things just happen. Like a bug in your salad, like no wood for your fire, or more like 10 bucks in your back pocket when you thought for sure you were broke.

Often times, a knife is held to the throat of my concious, threatening it, exclaiming, "Magic is dead! Admit it!" But then a song plays and the grip presently wrapped around my reality is released, and I feel all that much better about everything.

Summertime
by Mae

Summertime, summertime
Brought me back to thinking you were mine
All those times.
We laid it down and left it all behind,
We were blind.
Oh, the summertime.
We could ride, we could ride.
Take my hand and watch the world go by.
Laugh or cry,
Well we need to try, get off the line, time to fly.
Oh, the summertime.

Go on ahead and let it fade away.
No looking back, you know the past will stay.
It's you and me, we could get out of here.
Jump in and go and we could drive for years.
We could feel alive...

Here we are, here we are,
Windows down we see a falling star.
Stop the car.
Wait for nothing but our beating hearts, going far.
Oh, the summertime.
So feel the air, feel the air,
Take the map and point to anywhere.
I don't care.
Fingers through your hair, the sky I've seen is blue and green.
Oh, the summertime.

Driving away, leaving it all behind. Driving away, just driving away.

For the first time in my life, I had a dream where I found myself saying to the people with me in my dream, "This can't be a dream. This is just too real."

And then I awoke with a mouthful of disappointment.

PERSONAL FRIDAY!

LIFE'S TOO SHORT

Muscular SWM (Single White Male), 84, Capricorn, smoker, enjoys
camping out, waterskiing. Seeking passionate, energetic, outgoing
SWF (Single White Female), 21-45, smoker, for possible LTR
(long term relationship). Chenois Creek.

I just had to describe the moment that just happened. It made me cry, but in the good way.

Dad's been working on the barn all morning. Actually, he's been working on it for months, but that's beside the point. So, dad's been working hard all morning and he developed quite a thirst. So he came to me with five bucks bucks and asked if I would drive down the street to the gas station and pick him up a few bottled lemonades.

"Do you mind, Car?"

So I came back from the gas station with three lemonades and two bucks change. I took them out to dad and saw that he'd just finished a wall. There was no wall yesterday. Now there's a wall. The man can do anything. It blows my mind. He stapled his finger earlier and came in the house to rinse it with soap and water. He wasn't upset or complaining about the pain. He simply said, "Stupid staple gun..." and proceeded to scrub away the dried blood from his index finger. Afterwards, he went back out and finished building the wall. Hurt and swollen finger and all... He just keeps going.

I handed him a lemonade.

"Oh man! Thanks, Car! Would you put the other two bottles in the fridge?"

"Sure, dad. Here's your change," I said, handing him the two dollars.

"Oh. Just keep it."

Sweet! Because any money is good money.

With a pleasant grin, "Thanks, dad."

I started walking away, but stopped when my dad said, "Hold up a minute."

"Yeah?"

He was sitting on his knees and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet, the one he's had since '71, and opened it up. He pulled out $20 and handed it to me.

"Here ya go," he said. "I love you. You're a great kid. Gimme a kiss."

I gave him a peck and hardly knew what to say. It wasn't like him to do something like that. My dad isn't numb to affection, but he's not one to ask for the kiss or the hug. If I'm willing to give it--the hug, the kiss, the back-scratching--he'll take it without a hint of hesitation. But when he asks for it? It means an incredible amount more.

Basically, my dad is the greatest. And that's that.

Nathan and Alex--I miss them so much, it hurts me.

Because I am bored and because I'd like to write something, but can't really think of anything to write:

A random collection of words located randomly around my bedroom...

The future is ALWAYS new

THE WORLD WILL BE MINE!

Your partner will be proud of you.

Ooh that feels nice -- MB

The Novelist's Notebook

BELIEVER

Fight the good fight.

You will seriously consider a move by year end.

I believe in you! Love, Leah

SWITCHFOOT - Admittance One

IMPORTANT PHONE NUMBERS:

Umm... you're a rockstar now and I feel quite sheepish when I'm around you...

Hide for a few days.

Carly... I'm your biggest fan! ...Joe

Get excited over nothing.

If I can dream it, imagine it, I do it.

GOOD NEWS!!!

Alex and Nathan are alive and perfectly fine!!!

I just received the most relieving email of my life, from Alex:

"ive been grounded, plus moving plus grounded again, miss ya carly! ill write more once we get the phone line plugged in!!!
-alex, the ever wandering"

The fact that nothing's capitalized and there's not a single apostrophe only affirms my love for that boy.

On with "The Alex Golden Movement!!!"

I've been practicing my typing skills with the new keyboarding software I ordered from the University Bookstore. The average typist can write 35-50 words per minute. Anything above that is exceptional.

I played this game. It's about a one-minute test of skill.

End score: 114 words per minute.

"Good Job!"

So I stopped by this small coffee drive-thru place which is located right off a main road that goes through town. It's this really cute little building (kind of like a shack) and people pull in and drive up to the window and get their coffee. It's a pretty sweet deal. So I was nearby and I thought, Hey, my sister told me about this place once. I wonder if they're looking to hire anyone? Now, to be perfectly honest, I'm not a big fan of coffee. In fact, I don't like coffee at all. I think it's gross. If I go into any sort of coffee place, ie. Starbuck's, Tully's, etc., I'll only get a hot chocolate and maybe a cookie. If they're lucky, I may even purchase a various artist CD or something by Ray Charles, but that's as good as it gets.

So I pulled in, parked, and a little girl came popping out the door, obviously curious as to why I parked instead of pulling through. I stepped out of my car and immediately put on my, "Hi there! I've got a great personality and I really need work!" face. I just went for it...

"Hi! My name is Carly and I was wondering if you were looking--"

And she cut me off, "Work?! Come on in! We are definitely hiring!"

Imagine a heart with a little pair of butterfly wings attached and flapping ecstatically... Because that's the best way I can describe how I felt.

I told her I had no experience with coffee and I'd have to be trained and the girl said, "That's totally fine! I will train you! It's no problem!"

She ended up being a really nice girl who happened to graduate from Woodinville high school and the same year as me... A 2002 grad from WHS. Did I know her? No. Did I ever see her? I think I may have. Did I recognize her? A little, but barely... I always thought I'd recognize every last person in my senior class, but in this case, I didn't. And I felt bad... Although, that did not stop us from making a connection! It was great!

"This is so awesome! I'm going to tell Cheryl all about 'this really great girl, Carly, who's totally awesome!'" she exclaimed as she wrote my name and phone number on the white board in big green letters.

"That'll be so great! Thank you so much for being so helpful!"

Totally awesome. I'm really excited.

Job Update:

I think I got one! *passes out from excitement and joy*

Michelle inspired me and here it is. Enjoy this interview in all its vanity.

Quit guitar today. Temporarily... maybe? I honestly don't know if I'll ever go back. It's a lot of money and I'm not as far along in my skills as I wish I were. Not my guitar teacher's fault. No way. However, maybe his teaching method works for some people better than it does me. Don't get me wrong, because I adore Rick and I've really loved having him for my teacher. I just don't know if it was ever right. I've come a long ways and I've grown a lot since I started two years ago, but I think I should still be a whole lot farther... But I also think it's just me.

So, it's begun. The simplification process. I honestly feel like a huge pressure has been lifted off me already. Because guitar has ranked one of the highest on my priorities list. It was a big part of my life. Still is. Only now, I'm accountable only to myself when it comes to the consistency of practicing. That'll be nice. Practice when I feel like it. Work on things that not only do I need work on but also enjoy. Let me tell you--pentatonic scales and arpeggios are going on the "Wait List" for a while. Ugh...

Continuing on in this process of simplifying my life...

I'll be calling Debra tomorrow afternoon to tell her I won't be able to give her or her daughter horseback riding lessons anymore. They take two a month. I say it again... Two days. One month. A whopping $100 total, and even so... It's a very unreliable source of income. Things come up, schedules change, people get sick and can't show up or can't teach... It's something I can no longer depend on for even simple petty cash. An even bigger reason as to why I can't give the lessons anymore is the biggest factor of them all and will have the strongest effect on me emotionally:

I have to sell Tuffy. My beloved. No, I don't ride him regularly. No, I don't really compete with him anymore. But that doesn't make him any less mine or stop me from loving him all the more! I love my horse. I really do. If I could, I would keep him forever and give him to my first child to ride. Because by the time I'd have my own kids, Tuffy'd be an old geezer who couldn't move very fast in the first place--perfect for little kids. But the fact is that he's worth a lot. And my education is worth even more. I hate to say that, but I know it's true. The money I'll receive for him will go straight into my college savings and it'll help my parents out immensely. There's just that nagging fear that something horrible could happen to him if I'm not there to stop it. Responsibility for the love and care I have for Tuffy... And all that...

To simplify one's life is to benefit it in the long run, but I must admit... It's not so simple to do. In fact, it's incredibly hard. I don't like doing it at all.

Goal: to make everyone more important than myself.
Goal: to love everyone genuinely more than myself.
Goal: to see people the way God sees them--beautiful.

Hard, but so right.

What girl out there never had a Guy? Do you know what I'm referring to, ladies? The Guy?

Ok, allow me to clarify.

I think every girl has had a Guy they have secretly adored from afar and loved without a cause, usually starting sometime in elementary school and usually lasting all the way through high school. Up until the very day she graduates with the rest of her senior class, she has had dreams and thoughts about that Guy and fantasized about what being with him would be like. It doesn't matter how many boyfriends the girl has throughout her educational career. If the Guy is still going to the same school, then she still thinks about him whenever he passes by her in the hall. Whenever his name is announced over the intercom because he made the only goal during yesterday's soccer game. Whenever she sees his girlfriend at the dance, dressed down in her beautiful dress and him in his tuxedo, attached to her arm. The thoughts just continue and don't ever seem to cease...

So you ask, Who was Carly's Guy?

I'll tell you.

It was Matt Phillips. Matthew Christopher Phillips. That's right. I know the Guy's middle name. And I don't think I ever asked to know it. I just do. I loved him from fifth grade on through my freshman year, and although the "strong" feelings for him seemed to stop after that, the thoughts remained. They never went away. So long as he was within the same high school brick walls and playing on our high school's football and soccer teams, so long my dreams pursued themselves. His smile, his tall, lengthy figure, and above all else, his laugh... Unforgettable. I have so many stories. I could write a book on that one crush. Because let's face it--he was the Guy.

So I ask you now.

Who was your Guy? What was his name? And give one reason as to why you'll never forget him for so long as you live. Because these are the people we never forget, whether bad or good--we cherish them because they ultimately changed us and somehow effected who we are today.

And for you Guys. If you've got that Girl, go for it. I'd like to know her name too.

"You know the world is changing when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese, the Swiss hold the American Cup, France is accusing the USA of arrogance and the Germans don't want to go to war." - Chris Rock

Courtesy of Jesi.

I have been writing all morning long in notebooks. I feel very productive. Writing keeps my mind occupied during those times of boring lectures and discussions about politics, history, and the evil that is commonly associated with the "white man".

Cinema 211, World Film, is taught by a man who has very strong opinions, most of which are all about himself and where he stands concerning the "issues" of the world. That's fine. I respect that. But I also don't have to listen to it. Especially since I walked into class today wanting to learn about film and the different aspects of film, but I left knowing nothing about it. Rather, all I knew was how much this particular prof hates the NRA and disagrees with America as a whole. He said we're not humans and that we're all animals and we congregate in herds... Film related? I couldn't make the connection.

Anyhow... I've decided to drop the course and take something less... ridiculous? Like ART maybe, which is more of an independent course. Group work always frustrated me. Because usually, I will take on the leadership role, whether I volunteer to or feel obligated due to my other classmates' lack of enthusiasm. Independent work means I only have to rely on myself. If I fail myself, there's no one to get frustrated with but myself. And I can deal with that just fine.

I'm trying to figure out what I want to do. In general. Basically, I'd like to know what course my life will take after I'm finished with my degree at Cascadia. The last couple nights have been overwhelming because of all the "figuring out" I've been trying to accomplish. To no avail. However, today, I started compiling a list of smaller things/aspects that will hopefully help me to determine an overall result.

That list is the following:

1. Get a job.
2. Finish with Cascadia.
3. Move out.
4. Take a year off.
5. Write.
6. Play music.
7. Travel.
8. Meet people.

So... Those are the things I know are the right things to do. However, I can't quite sum it up in one ultimate goal. Not just yet. However, that's not up to me. God will provide the answer. He only requires patience on my part.

Had to get this down really quick because it makes me laugh.

Psychology 101 is great. I like it a lot. It's interesting. The prof seems nice and she's really young, which kind of makes things easier because she doesn't seem like this on-high authority. Did I ever talk about Awesome Brandon from my drama class? I'm going to have to check back, because if I neglected Awesome Brandon... I apologize to you all.

Awesome Brandon, a Tom Cruise look-alike, was in my drama class last quarter and we hit it off straight away. Very laid back. Very easy-going. Very comfortable in his own skin. Before I left for California, he was the one person I returned for my drama class for. I wanted to say "goodbye" because I knew I would hardly see him around campus and I wasn't sure about the likelihood of us having another class together.

So I walked into class this morning and who do I see?

Awesome Brandon.

His reaction upon seeing me?

"You've got to be kidding me," with a huge smile.

So, we're sitting there at this table, grouped with about three others. One of them is a guy named Ryan and we, as a group, are asked to come up with some reasonable guidelines for the classroom. Rules and limitations, if you will.

Awesome Brandon is great at taking charge.

"Alright, I'll write them down as we come up with them. Cool? Ok. How about... 'Come prepared to class?'"

We all nod in agreement. But Ryan...

Ryan laughs similar to that of Butthead, "How about... When we sleep, we can't snore?"

Long pause amongst us all...

He continued, "Or! Or! How about?? How about?? When you bring drugs, bring enough for everyone?!"

I think he might be high... Because about five minutes ago, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he had a big grin on his face. Maybe he just really enjoys psychology?

There's an aching on my heart. I've been feeling it for the last two days and I'm scared. This horrible idea has seaped into my thoughts and I'm terrified. Genuinely terrified. I can remember the last time I was this afraid. Probably my sophomore year when I learned that my close friend's dad discovered he had a brain tumor and would die, but no one knew how soon. I loved my friend's dad, Dave. As much as one of my other friends. Dave was an extremely cool guy and I enjoyed talking to him all the time. Loving, caring, funny, and an overall good person. The only thing he lacked and I had wished for him more than anything was a personal relationship with God. He passed on more than a year ago. I never knew where he was or how his heart felt. God knows and He is the only One I can trust. First learning of that situation, however, brought me to a place in my life I never wanted to return. Fear. Doubt. Loss. My room has felt the wrath of my tears, of my fists slamming against the walls and the doors, and the silent cries--sitting there on my floor. That's where I would unleash my emotion. Where my nose became red and wet, where the breathing became painful, where desperation was my plea to God. Praying for a miracle.

I haven't heard or seen any sign of life from Alex and Nathan for a long time. So long, I can't remember the last time I talked to either of them. Online or through an email. Phone calls are too expensive and we forget. So the Internet is our form of communicating. But they're not around. No "bloop" of a sign-in on Messenger. I know for a fact that they are both Net-savvy and frequently online. So where are they? Why aren't they there?

If you recall my post about Alex and Nathan after returning home from Creation Fest 2002 back in August, you will remember how much I adore these kids. I love them. I'm crazy about them. If I could love them any more, there's no doubt in my mind that I would explode. Literally. They mean that much. Their friendship is that genuine and great. Our friendship, rather.

I emailed them both two nights ago. I wrote them a greeting, wondering how they are and how I've missed them. I hesitated before sending it, for fear of what message I may receive in return or worse, receive no message at all. What if they're hurt? What if they're in pain? What if they're... I won't dare say it. I could never say it. But I'm thinking it. The possibility of IT. And I want to cry. Because right now, at present, I am in the dark and praying to God for an answer--a good one. A good answer to continue on with "The Alex Golden Movement," which I've been planning these last couple months.

My heart is in torment. I feel tortured and uneasy. I have this pain in my chest and I know it's my heart. If I press my hand over the place of my heart, I can feel it pounding, but it's not the normal kind of beat you associate with a perfectly functioning heart. It's the beat of a heart that can't stop worrying, caring for, and loving these people. I'm not lying. I'm not overexaggerating in any way. If I were to go into a doctor's office and have him listen in, I guarantee you he would tell me there was something wrong.

I can see the pulse of my heart. And it won't stop, because the graphic images of my friends--they keep reappearing in my head and I can only pray that they're a lie. I never wanted my thoughts to be so false in all my life. Pray for my friends, Alex and Nathan. This isn't a favor. Rather, it's a plea. Because I'm afraid for them right now. More afraid than I think I've ever been. Even worse than when I found out Dave would die. Much, much worse...

The day has finally come. The movie Kyle and I saw advertisements for months and months ago is finally playing in theaters. In fact, we noticed as we left church this morning (which takes place in the town movie theater) that the movie would be playing in the same theater we meet for Sunday service. Sweet. That movie is?

The Phonebooth. Totally intense, totally original, totally looking forward to watching the drama unfold.

I'll give my review shortly. Until then, enjoy the rest of your day. And God bless.

Church this morning. Half an hour late. Missed the worship, sadly.

Talk:

"God can be and is our guide during the confusing times of our lives. There are several things that can be considered 'guide-posts' used by God. The Bible. The Holy Spirit. People. Despite whatever confusion may be overwhelming you, God is always there, listening, knowing. The truth is, amongst everyone's cries and desperate screams, God can identify you because He knows you and is the only One who can guide you along the right path."

Due to recent life changes, I could relate immensely.

This was my room, as of three hours ago.



Since this picture was taken, I've removed all the garage sale stuff which is the majority of that sitting on my floor. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?

Now to clear off the bed...

Haloscan has decided to start working again. After some major prompting on my part. But there ya go. Go nuts.

Boxes. I need lots and lots of boxes. Because I have so much stuff in my room, I don't know what to do with it. Most of it are things I'd like to sell in my garage sale, the one I've been meaning to have since... January? Or February? My room has, shall I say, become worse since the night I got home on Wednesday? Remember that my room was rummaged through and ransacked and wrecked while I was away in California. Well, I've made desperate attempts to clean things up, but have only seemed to make things messier.

I've come to this obvious conclusion: I own too much stuff. But it's so hard to part with so many of these things. So many childhood memories and sentimental pieces I've received from friends and family members. Hand-me-downs and precious items that once belonged to someone I knew when I was growing up, but somehow became mine along the way. Plastic rings and bracelets that could be purchased from one of those ridiculous stuff disspensers with a mere 25 cents. At the time, they were cool! They looked like real pieces of jewelry! And friends would ask me, "Where'd you get that beautiful ring?" And I would tell them proudly, "From the jewelry machine at Godfather's Pizza!" And the "oh's" and "ah's" would follow thereafter.

Books, papers, old birthday cards, letters, art supplies, magazines, and way too many journals. Too many for my own good. Too many for anyone's own good.

Steph comes home in about four weeks. We're well overdue for some quality time. I'm looking forward to having her back home. Remember that Steph is the one that brings out a side of me no one else can. Hence why no one quite knows how to respond when they're in our presence, since we tend to forget anyone else is there. So Steph is coming home and we both lack money and both desire jobs. We've decided to hold a "shared" garage sale at her parents' home. She has things she needs to rid herself of and I have my own stuff... Together, we will hold a garage sale like you've never seen in your life.

I'm thinking about what it'll be like the day I'll strip my room of everything. The walls bare. The ceiling, completely windchime-less. No bible verses stickied above my bed for me to read as I go to sleep at night. No artwork adjacent to my windows. No picture frames. No music articles or guitars hanging on the wall. Closests empty. A dismembered bed, prepared to be hauled away to its new home; my new home. My room will, in less than three months time, be completely naked and unrecognizable. Kyle will, without a shred of doubt, claim the room his own and his room downstairs will become my parents' first ever "guest room".

Boxes. I think their might be some in the garage...

Ok... Is it really 4:08 am?

Once again, I'm reminded of the power that is with a Frost poem.
Pure magic.

Wind and Window Flower
by Robert Frost

LOVERS, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.

When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cagèd yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,

He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at dark.

He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.

But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.

Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.

But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.

I'm introducing a new feature to jeffersonair, called "Personal Fridays".

Every Friday, I will be posting a personal ad I find interesting, fascinating, good, and above all, entertaining. Because people are all those things and more.

BIG MAN WANTED

DWCF (Divorced White Christian Female), 51, 5'7", hugs in the kitchen,
all weather picnics, wine, conversation, smooth jazz 98.7, fire-places.
Exploring drives, beach walks, hide-n-seek in the dunes. Puyallup.

Cascadia is incredibly unclear about what classes you take and how you go about getting to them. Especially when it comes to online courses and BIT classes, like the ones I'm signed up for now, including keyboarding and digital imaging. What? When? Where? Why? And, please, tell me: How?

I had the most interesting train ride home. It went straight from San Luis Obispo to Seattle in 32 hours time. A pretty long trip. After about two hours on the train, I made my way to the "Cafe" where they serve anything from hot sandwiches to ice cream. They pretty much got it all. I reached into my purse and found something missing--my wallet. I had no clue at the time what had happened to it. Of course, I immediately think I had left it back at my seat. After rummaging through my bags, I found nothing. After that, I assumed I'd left it back at the SLO station. I was without money and the old man behind the cafe counter wouldn't accept my checks.

"Traveler's checks. Only."

"Uh. I don't have traveler's checks." Do I look like the type who carries traveler's checks?

"Sorry."

The man who was in the seat next to me, named Jules (short for Julian), was... talkative... to say the least. An interesting fellow who (Brian will know what I'm talking about here) thinks he possesses the funny gene. Fairly early in our trip, he grabbed one of the small pillow cases (the ones the attendants give you when you first get on the train) and tossed it over my head, saying, "There. Now you look like a French maid." Oh goodie. However, he soon learned of my dilemma, and caught me completely off guard later that evening when he brought me a cup of chicken noodle soup. I hadn't even asked him for it and he brought the best thing I could ever desire: soup.

"Are you serious? You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, but I wanted to."

Jules, for whatever real humor you lack, you make up for in good taste in food. Because, and the rest of the universe can confirm this, I love soup. I ate that soup and I even finished off the broth. So satisfactory and so "hit the spot".

As the trip progressed, I learned a lot about Jules and of the rest of the people whose conversations I overheard. Amongst five addicted smokers, I was one non-smoker. Every single time the train came to a stop, I heard the same relentless banter:

"Do you think we can step out there and smoke a while?"

"I'm not sure. Did the conductor say anything?"

"I didn't hear anything."

"It's been over an hour since we last stopped and had a drag."

"I'm gonna lose it if I don't smoke soon."

"Maybe we can stick our heads out a window and smoke that way. Think they would mind?"

"We should ask."

"You ask."

"No you."

"I could have smoked an entire cigarette in this amount of time."

"I hate this addiction."

"I keep trying to quit."

"Cold turkey's the best way."

"That's true. I've done it twice now..."

And on and on. And every single time they went out to have a "drag", they would come back reaking of nicotine. Of course, the woman behind me, Charlene, had to try and cover it up by dowsing yourself in this rich perfume, which was worse than the cigarette smell. The combination of both made my eyes water. Nice people, but it was hard to overlook that horrid, disgusting habit. They were constantly talking about it too. At one point, I actually thought they had put me on the "Smokers Car" because it seemed as though every time the train made a "smoke stop", everyone on my car left. It would become deserted! Except for me, sitting there, staring out the window, watching the clouds of smoke rise from their nostrils and the ashes falling to the cement. Jules must have gone through at least a pack from when I got on in SLO up through the point when he got off in Portland, Oregon. To me, that seems like a lot. But I'm not a smoker, so I honestly don't know.

Shortly before Jules got off the train, I found my wallet. Sometime during the hustle at the SLO station, I managed to toss my wallet in the bag carrying my video camera and tapes. Lucky for me, when I got bored and pulled my camera out to watch some of the home video footage, there was my blue Snoopy wallet with the ductaped edge resting comfortably atop everything else. Of course, I wouldn't tell Jules that it had been there all along. I was too embarrassed. Besides, I'd already written him a check for the dinner and the breakfast he'd paid for, so whether or not he knew if I got my wallet back didn't really matter.

The best part of the entire trip was Oregon. We went through this incredible snow storm and it was beautiful. The combination of the trees and the lake and the freshly fallen snow--picturesque. And I took a lot of pictures. Although, I'm unsure as to how they all turned out. I'm hoping some did because I'd like to post them. I was captivated the whole time. Especially with Coldplay serenading me through my CD player. Coldplay is excellent snow music. Good choice.

I arrived home at about 12:15 am. I was happy to see my dad. He was waiting for me outside. It was really funny as I walked up. He was surrounded by several other people waiting to greet the other passengers, so I was trying to distinct him from everyone else. It was quite difficult at first because he had his hood pulled up around his head and his hands were stuffed in his pocket. He looked like the average onlooker, bundled up due to the rain and the cold. But the moment he took out his left hand and waved, I knew it was him. He has the most distinct wave known to mankind. I can't even describe it. I saw it and knew without a shred of doubt that it was my dad. I think I might wave just like him, too, unknowingly. I wish I knew.

It was a lovely drive back home. With the rain and everything. I did end up missing the Switchfoot show. Of course, I did get there after midnight. No way the show went on passed 10:30 or 11:00 pm.

I was very much looking forward to entering my bedroom and collapsing in a neatly made bed. I assumed it would be neatly made because Norma (mom's cleaning lady) would have been there on Thursday, and I hadn't touched my room since Thursday. Therefore, it would have been just as though Norma had been there that day. I could hardly wait. But it didn't happen. I walked through my bedroom door and found a disheveled, ransacked, torn apart bedroom filled with crap. My bed was pulled away from the wall. My hope chest was too. The stuff for the garage sale I want to have is not so neatly piled around my floor. My laundy was tossed about. My dresser drawers were all open and gone through. Does anyone have any idea how invaded this can make someone feel?

I mean... What the heck!?

So, after coming upon that scene, I decided it would be best if I came downstairs and blogged a while, to get it out of my system. It's now five minute to 3:00 am and I figure I should head back up there and see if I can't clean up a bit. I have no idea what happened in there, but I'll find out. As soon as I do, I'll keep you posted.

Just promise me something. Don't ever go through someone else's room and leave it in such disarray. I feel very disrespected right now. I'm sure you can imagine.

Alright, I'm finished for the evening (morning?). Although, I do want to say this one last thing:

Thanks, Brian, for showing me an awesome time. Your family is awesome, your friends are awesome, the whole town was incredible. Unforgettable. Really. And the Tia Juanas...

I'm really going to miss the Tia Juanas.

I'm passing this along for a friend. If you're interested, cast your bid.