This day is going so well. I woke up early this morning to a pleasant voice and proceeded to shower, dress, and everything else you do to get ready for the day.

I was about ready to leave when my mom walked into the bathroom, passed me, then shot around, looked at me and said, "You're thin!"

Caught off guard, I simply respond, "Huh?"

"You look firmer! What are you doing??"

"Really? You can notice?"

"You don't feel it? Because you sure look it!"

"No, not yet... I can't feel it yet."

I haven't really talked about this much because I thought it would be best to hold it to myself. But yes, I have been working at losing weight. It started last weekend. I've been biking and/or running every single day since Monday. I work out about two to three times a day and due to the sudden change in activity level, I have experienced a minor side effect--loss of appetite. I don't snack between meals (because I'm just not hungry) and when I do eat, it's not a lot. With lunch and dinner, I try to keep the variety up so that I feel more satisfied by the end of it. Oh yes, and water consumation is at an all-time high.

Ok, so there you have it. I'm working my butt off (literally) and if my mom notices a difference in just one week, I can only imagine what will happen in a month.

"Oh... I can feel it." - Kronk, The Emperor's New Groove

So someone tell me why... why... why...
Do I... I... I... feel stupid?
- "Mad Season" by Matchbox Twenty

I'm happy... And sometimes, that's all that needs to be said.

I finished that song I started earlier this week. At least, it's 98% done. I may add a bridge in later, but I'm not sure yet. I will also do my best to get a recording of it linked in the sidebar for your listening pleasure. It may be a while, but keep hassling me, and maybe I'll actually get the job done.

Seeker

I've got a mind
To let you know
The world seems to think
I'm not welcome here

A secret's been told
And it's about time
Everything you think you know
Isn't right
Or true...

Open your eyes and try to see
Why deny the truth you haven't seeked?

You scream and you run
But no one hears
When you pray for him to come
He is there
With you...

Seeker finds their heart in the end
Future dies when the past starts again

I guess I've been thinking about the last few years and how I've changed my mind about so many things. The best way to explain is to start back at the beginning of high school.

My dad convinced me to pursue graphic design during my sophomore year. I've been drawing since I was old enough to hold a pencil and he knew that if I wanted to, I could be very successful as a professional graphic designer. I took it to heart and between my sophomore and junior years, that is what I pursued.

Sometime during my junior year, I realized I couldn't picture myself designing graphics and logos and be happy at the same time. It didn't interest me and the only time I enjoyed creating art was in my spare time. Ultimately, I could see professional art bringing me down in the future and that was the last thing I wanted.

Soon after that, I realized that I loved to write and the idea of writing screenplays for a living was very appealing. I liked movies (still do) and knew that if given the chance, I could write a movie good enough for Hollywood. For the longest time, all I would do is brainstorm ideas and analyze characters, create plot twists and multiple climatic endings... But I could never finish anything. The more I dwelt on one screenplay, the more I started to hate it and move on to something else. I was never satisfied. I knew that if I ever wrote a screenplay, it would have to be in collaberation with someone else. Writing screenplays still interests me and I hope to do that someday, but not full-time (obviously) and not on my own.

Still, I loved to write. Hence the whole blog outlet starting in November of 2001, near the beginning my senior year. So I looked into the different schools with writing programs that were detailed in a variety of genres. After a thorough search of schools within Washington, I learned there was nothing around here that appealed to me. I knew my parents couldn't afford to send me out of state (within the US), so I decided to check out Canada. With the currency exchange rate, it might not be so bad. After combing through another large sum of universities, I found two schools that would fit me just about right. One slightly better than the other, both still very good. The University of British Columbia (UBC) and the University of Victoria (UVic). However, UVic seemed better to me because of the advanced placement they offer to students with exceptional writing abilities.

Over the summer, I worked a lot on the portfolio I planned to send to UVic during the fall semester. I would continue at Cascadia, earning my two-year degree, and then transfer to UVic the following year (at least I'd hoped to).

Sometime toward the end of August, it occurred to me how much I enjoyed playing music and how I was actually being encouraged to look into it professionally. I started playing the guitar the summer before my sophomore year and by the time I was a senior, I'd written a few decent songs. I was getting better and better by the week with every lesson I received from Rick, my guitar teacher. I quickly started to question whether or not attending UVic was what I wanted.

Fall semester began and most of my friends left for their different colleges and universities. I continued at Cascadia and lived with my parents, still writing and playing guitar, loving them both equally. Leah left for Trinity Western in Canada and started her pursuit for a bachelor's in Communications. Ryan left for Bethany Bible College to major in Pastoral Studies. Most of my friends discovered (almost immediately) what it was they wanted. Not just in school, but in life.

Ryan had started talking to me about the music ministry program they have at the Bible College and over time, the idea started getting to me. Not to mention, a full year at a Canadian school would cost my parents no more than $7000 for an entire academic year. So I started looking into that and I filled out all the app's and made the phone calls and even planned a visit to check the school out for myself. However, just two days before I was to leave, I felt an immense tug at my heart and I knew that I wasn't supposed to go. So I credited my $500 ($700+ Canadian) airplane ticket and turned my back on that whole idea.

Since then, my options have returned to many things. Of course, I've been going to Cascadia this entire time and I am very happy to say that when this summer is over, I will have completed my two-year degree. Whatever university I end up attending will transfer all 90+ credits that I've earned because it is a finished degree. I can go to any university and study whatever subject I want without having to succumb to many (if any) academic subjects at all.

However, like I have been saying, if I head into school in the fall, I will burn out before anything in me is ever ignited. I need a break, a significant amount of time spent away from home, family, friends, and everything else familiar to me. I need to get out on my own for a while and experience things for myself. This has always been what I've wanted to do, but I suppose I never quite knew how or what would be the right thing to do.

I am fickle, it's true. But being fickle has a lot to do with my desperate desire to do the thing that God wants me to. Whatever that is will be the right thing and the best possible choice I can make. If it is according to God, then I want it to be according to me also.

Right now, I'm trying to figure out what God wants me to do with my time off. I'm going to work for a significant while, and from there, I just don't know. What I know are vague chunks of information. Details come eventually, but my impatience doesn't help any. I know that I have to work for a while, so I'm doing that. I know I have to move out sometime in the fall, so I intend to save up enough to do that as well. I know I'm supposed to go somewhere far away here, so I will. I will do all these things, but it's the little questions that drive me mad. How much money I am supposed to make? When exactly am I supposed to move out this fall? Where am I supposed to go when I do? And what will I do once I get there?

"Ere go, as you so aptly put it, the problem... is choice." - from the movie Matrix:Reloaded

Remember when I told you I was the most fickle person you'll ever meet?

Yeah... I thought so...

I love having reasons to create art! If I weren't in an art class right now, I guarantee you that I would not be doing anything creative besides scribbling out a few sonnets. Since starting this class (alongside Leah), my muse has been ignited and all these artistic ideas have been flooding my brain!

When I am in an art class, it always helps to have someone guiding me and telling me what he or she wants me to do. Not some uniform idea, but rather a concept provided to me which I take and elaborate on. Growing up in elementary school, the teacher assigns some sort of project and he or she shows you exactly how it is supposed to look. As we grow older and art classes become more advanced, what we decide to do with whatever is given is completely up to us.

The teacher says, "Here's the medium."

I say, "Ok."

The teacher says, "Here are some examples of that medium."

I say, "Ok."

The teacher says, "Now you try."

I say, "Ok!"

And now I must go paint! Ta ta!

Found it! Thanks to whoever prayed! You rock!

I LOST MY WALLET!

And there was a lot of money inside...

Those of you who are the praying type, please commence immediately or whenever convenient. If it is not found, my head will be the next thing mounted on the wall.

Thank you kindly.

Leah and I were riding our bikes back from school today and I looked over my left shoulder and found myself matching speeds with a big, fat bumble-bee. It flew parallel to me and it was almost as if the bee was holding still. So much so that I could see it's little black eyes and yellow fuzzy fur.

I don't know... I just thought it was pretty cool.

A beautiful day, two bikes, one Burke trail, and one nasty spill for Leah onto the curb outside Schuck's Tires... Poor thing is gonna have bruises tomorrow! Good thing she wore her helmet! There's a nasty dent on the right front of it. It would have been the right part of her forehead had it not been for that lovely hardhat. Maybe I should wear one, too...

To help me with the loss of Pro-Voice, I've started working on something new...



Lyrics

I've got a mind
To let you know
The world seems to think
I'm not welcome here

A secret's been told
And it's about time
Everything you think you know
Isn't right
Or true...

Blast! I didn't make the Pro-Voice cut. You can imagine my ultimate shock/let-down combo when I read one of the finalists first name--Carly.

That's alright! Life moves on! In the meantime, I have another job application to fill out for a local art store! Two part-time jobs is the equivilent to one full-time! Let's see what happens!

so once there was this old man who lived in a cabin in the woods and he had lots of cats. WELL, these cats multiplied even more because the old man fed them quality tillamook medium cheddar and soon the old man had to buy a tillamook cow herd to make his own cheese for his 327+ cats. WELL, his cows multiplied because he fed them quality..... grass. yeah.

MORAL OF THE STORY!!!

eat tillamook medium cheddar cheese.

cheese from california is overrated! don't believe the sexy cows in the TV commercials! it's all a lie!!

TILLAMOOK! not sexy cows.

I've got to rant, because sometimes, that's what I do best.

I'm very confused right now. Because I've got so many good things going for me right now. I'm about to start another quarter at Cascadia. I only have 16 credits left before I have my two-year degree. With that, I can transfer to any university and I can start working on whatever bachelor's I choose. I also have a really great job that will probably start increasing in hours in the next few weeks. I love going in and working the register and I love the people I work with and my boss. Everyone is extremely awesome. I've been writing songs and coming up with more music and that has been extremely fun and encouraging.

So many great things!

I'm still confused though because while I do want to take a trip somewhere, I'm scared that if I leave, I'll lose everything that I have here. Permanently. I would hate to give up this job. I'd like to keep it for a good while. I really don't want to go to school here in Washington, but that means I would eventually have to lose the job and go live in some dorm somewhere... somewhere that isn't near my job.

What is funny is how much I love this state. I was thinking about how much I now despise where I lived in California and how I would never choose to go back there. This really is a wonderful place to live, so why do I feel so strongly about leaving? I think it has more of something to do with what God wants me to do than what I want to do. Always a good thing. Follow God, you can't go wrong. Even though it feels like it's bad... I'm just not sure anymore.

I need a break still. I've been running full speed since high school and I haven't had an ultimately free summer. I've taken at least one college class since my junior year and I really feel burnt out on school. I know that if I don't take at least two or three months off to be on my own and disconnected from school, than there will be no way I succeed at a university. I will run out of gas before I even step through those front doors. It's crystal clear to me, but it's something so difficult to explain to my parents, who are paying my way through school. I want to work hard to honor them and make them proud of me, but if I head straight into school, I know I won't be able to. However, they see that I want to take a two or three month break, and I believe they might interpret that as not appreciating their money or support of my life. And maybe they have a point... But what I say is true--If I stay here, I will never recharge correctly so to kick serious butt in the future. I honestly can't think of anything else I'd like to do but show my parents how much I appreciate what they do for me.

I have hundreds of choices to make and most, if not all of them, have unknown consequences. And it is driving me mad...

Two Jones Soda fortunes. It must be my lucky week.

You are the center of attention.

You must self-pedal your own ideas for now.

Joel provided this fancy little diddy and I find myself vanishing in the dreamery of it all...

Joel: Have you ever seen "Cannibal, the Musical?"

Steph, Ryan, Me: ...No.

Joel. You entertain very well. I was thoroughly amused. Can we do this again sometime?

Today's schedule:

1. Pick up Fez.
2. Pick up bubble tea.
3. Pick up lunch.
4. Drive home.
5. Chill.

I love lazy Friday's...

I've rediscovered a part of me that is goofy and childish and totally free. I've decided to play this card for a bit to see what happens. It's a part of me that never disappeared, rather, it simply became restricted. I've decided to unleash it for the next week or two and find out what happens to me. Of course, there will be times when I need to remind myself of it, but I'm hoping, in due time, I will remember why I always wanted to stay a kid and remember the things that children love to do.

Ultimately, I'm trying to bring back an old piece of myself. The part that wasn't always so afraid or intimidated by others. The voice that always reassured me and made feel like nothing else mattered except God's opinion.

I want to come back, so if you all could encourage me to do so, that would be really great.

We went to see our fifth grader teacher yesterday. His name is Mr. Danielson, but we always referred to him as "Mr. D." He is retiring this year, which is an incredible misfortune to all future fifth graders.

For me, I never wanted fifth grade to end because of how great Mr. D made it. Every morning, Mr. D would write out the class schedule on the white board. He would even set out the times and it seemed incredible to me that he would stick to the schedule perfectly. And every day, Mr. D had a new story to tell and the entire class would be entranced by the way he would deliver each story. He was the best storyteller I ever knew.

Yesterday, Leah, Steph, and I stood behind the high fence, where Mr. D's class were lined up for a last kickball (baseball but with a dodgeball instead of a baseball) game. We watched him be the referree and Leah was first to notice the pair of shorts he wore, a pair we knew from when we were in his class. An 80s style pair that came down to his knees, a wild fish print with stipes of neon green and orange--they could have belonged to a clown. He is a clown.

A girl kicked a pop-fly out to right field.

Mr. D cheered her on, "Go, Diedre! Go!" He clapped his hands as she reached first base. Then he looked over at the three of us (the ones two to three feet taller than the rest of the kids) and said, "And to think I have to take care of all these report cards after this."

Leah suggested, "We could do them for you!"

Mr. D rubbed his bald shiney forehead, "No, no. I can't let you do that. I'd get fired."

Leah, Steph, and I looked at each other. Puzzled, we looked back at Mr. D and chuckled.

"You're retiring, Mr. D..." Leah smiled.

"That's just what I've been telling them!" he nodded in our direction and it reminded me of all the times he joked around with us as little kids. Joking about being 5'1 and an incredible basketball player. About how all his drawings of horses turned out to look like dogs, when really it was the other way around.

We reminded him of the Story he told. It was the Story. The Six Day Story. It took six days to tell and it was all about a dream that Mr. D had over a period of three consecutive nights. Although I have forgotten a lot of how it went, I do remember the "slegna" characters and how much it shocked me when Mr. D pointed out that "slegna" is "angels" spelled backwards. The "Oppressors" were the tendents of Hell and ultimately evil. I remember it had a huge impact on my own personal faith because of the incredible parallel it offered to one's spiritual journey. We all told Mr. D that we believed he should write the story out and publish it in a book. He said he hopes to and I honestly believe he could be the next biggest thing next to CS Lewis. Maybe even better.

Mr. D added, "There's a beginning to a fourth part now, too..."

The three of us were so excited, "What fourth part?!"

"You should see the kids reaction when I talk about it, too," Mr. D said. "I'll say, 'And he saw a woman there.' And the kids will ask, 'Who was she?' and I'll say, 'I can't tell you her name.' And the kids will get so upset and ask, 'Why?!' and I'll shock them when I say..." and Mr. D lowered his voice to a very serious whisper, "'Because if I do... they'll die.'"

I found my hands clinging to the diamond fencing, mouth hanging open. Already, he had captured me and drawn me into his wonderful world. I probably don't even know it, but he could be the reason why I love storytelling so much and why Leah always tells me, "I love the way you tell stories."

I don't remember what I learned in the fifth grade, but I do remember who I wanted to be like. I saw him yesterday and he hasn't changed a bit. Well, except for the fact that he's so much shorter.

I saw the "best" movie I've seen in a long while.

That best movie is Down With Love and I would watch it over and over again until I died (if no one stopped me) because it has a twist in the middle of it that I never, not once, saw coming! No movie does what it did and therefore, I am overly fascinated and intrigued by it.

There was a time when I wanted to write movies and Down With Love inspires me to write them once more.

Again. The best movie.

A night of wonderful messenger...

steph: Man...
carly: I'm telling you...
carly: Brian is the only great guy around here.
steph: haha
steph: tru dat!!
steph: :)
steph: except
carly: except huh?
steph: sometimes i kind of feel bad talking to him
steph: cuz he's YOUR friend
carly: WHAT?!
carly: NO WAY!!!
carly: Partake!!!
steph: haha
carly: Talk to him all you want!
steph: well, know what i mean, though?
carly: I could not possibly hog him to myself!
steph: hahahahaha
steph: i know you wouldn't
steph: :)
carly: Seriously... He's too good to keep all for my own. It just wouldn't be fair.
steph: hahaha
carly: We're right though.
carly: He's the only guy who treats us like princesses.
steph: seriously
steph: if he were a pimp
steph: we would totally be his ho's
steph: ;)
steph: hehe
steph: jk
carly: No kidding!
carly: I wouldn't mind it at all!
carly: You know what he should do??
steph: what?
carly: Brian should teach a How to Be A Gentleman (aka Prince Charming 101) class!
steph: YEAH!!!!
carly: We come up with the best ideas.
steph: seriously
steph: we should be famous

Later...

carly: You should call Steph and tell her... Um... Oh! Call her a "Chinese Whore" and then hang up.
carly: I'm not kidding, she'll pee her pants laughing.
brian: I wouldn't call anyone that!
brian: Especially one of you
carly: DO IT!
brian: Carly
brian: N
brian: o
brian: I will NOT call her a whore.
carly: DO IT!!!
carly: PLEASE!!!
brian: NO!
brian: seriously
carly: WHY NOT?!?!!?
brian: Because
brian: I
brian: Will
brian: NOT
brian: Call
brian: her
brian: a
brian: whore
brian: no way
brian: Not even joking, babe!
carly: you don't understand.
brian: I know. It's funny
carly: It will make her sooo happy.
brian: But I just don't do that
brian: I know it would probably be ok. But that's not cool to me
carly: Fine.
carly: Ok.
brian: Nothing against you. Just.. you have to understand me on this one
brian: k?
carly: Call her and say... "WHAT'S A DEAD SQUIRREL DOING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!?!" and hang up.
brian: LOL
brian: You
brian: are
brian: SO
brian: precious!
brian: You reminded me of like a 3 year old right there.
brian: "MoM?! Can we ride the elephant?!"
brian: "No, sweetie"
brian: "Ok! Can we ride the pony?!"
brian: hehe
brian: No more calls tonight
carly: Dude! Call her and say, "WHAT'S A DEAD SQUIRREL DOING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!?!" and hang up.
carly: just that one thing.
brian: I already called like three times
carly: Just one last time.
carly: If you want to hear her laugh.
brian: ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok
carly: YAY!

A few seconds after...

carly: Did he call?!?
steph: yes
steph: i
steph: DIED!!!!
steph: that was the best thing EVER!
steph: especially
steph: cuz he said it
steph: like he was exasperated
carly: What do you mean?!
steph: like he wanted to get it over with
steph: but he still wanted to do it
steph: it was great
steph: and he said to tell you to leave him alone
steph: hahaha
carly: Hahahaha!
carly: I told him first to call you and scream, "CHINESE WHORE"
steph: HAHAHAHAHA!!!
steph: i would have peed
steph: right in my chair!

And lastly...

carly: Exactly!
steph: :)
steph: it's like we share a brain
carly: You know what??
steph: what?
carly: We should go to a scientist and ask him to make a brain-child from our two.
carly: We should have a brain-child together.
carly: It would be the funniest person known to man.
steph: SERIOUSLY!!!!!!
carly: And we could name him or her Steve Steven Carl Carlson.
steph: this is SERIOUSLY the best idea you have EVER had!!!!!
steph: that should go in blogger!!!
carly: You read my mind!!!
steph: :-D
steph: i know!

I love my life.

He is so great!

You won't believe this!

I put the eye drops in my eyes a little while before I went to sleep last night and I woke up this morning not being able to open them! My lashes were intertwined and I had to pull them apart!

The drops glued my lids together!

Who else finds this funny?!

This cheers me up a lot. To the 1000th degree.

Superpowers...

I always felt like if I asked God to help me with something, He would. Simple as that. Whether it was with school, grades, family, friends, or a certain temptation which inevitably lead to sin--God has been the sound parachute I could break open whenever I found myself falling.

Sailing through a clear sky, I can usually see the ground coming up fast. The distance between the dirt and my face is perfectly visible, so I reach for my godly pull-string and jerk it down, saying, "Sweet! With my God-parachute, I'm perfectly fine!" But the simple and obvious truth is that even though God allows me to float safely down, I still end up landing in sin.

But I've managed to establish a connection.

I forget that to receive help from God is also to provide my best effort in helping myself. It's a collaboration of work. Between God, who ensures my safety no matter where I land, and myself. And what I contribute to this partnership is very plain as well as spectacular! You see... I choose where I plant my feet.

Advair Diskus Inhalation Powder (1)
Proventil Inhalation Aerosol (1)
Nasonex Nasal Spray (1)
Patanol Eye Drops (1)
Zyrtec Allergy Tablets (1 week's worth)
Allegra Allergy Tablets (1 week's worth)

And NOW I should feel a whole lot better.

Question: Why don't you tell me who you think I am?

Because quite frankly, I don't think anyone knows.

You may now comment.

I only have five minutes before I have to leave for work, but I feel really compelled to say that I love it that people read my blog. And I love everyone who does read my blog. I simply think all of you are so cool and the fact that you take the time to read what I have to say really does make me feel genuinely special. I love to write and I love to talk. Knowing all of you who read and listen only fuels my desire to pursue these things.

So now that the cat's out of the bag, I am now going to bolt.

My first day at work and it was great! Everyone seems to really enjoy their job and I felt very welcome there. After going through the typical how-do-you-do's, I was placed behind the cash register. I watched Petra, an elderly lady with a wicked sense of humor, work the register two times through.

"You got it?"

"I think so..."

"Ok! Then I'm going home!" Petra reached for her purse, gave me a wink, and left the store.

Thankfully, I still had Darla keeping me company and helping me whenever the register decided to act dysfunctional. Lucky for me, that was a rare occasion. I worked that register like none other! It was like I'd done it hundreds of times before. Darla kept saying, "You're doing so great!" and kept commenting on how awesome my quick ability to work the register was.

I looked forward to when anyone came into the store. I just loved helping the customers and the fact that I knew nearly everything people had questions about was a huge confidence booster.

Sue really got a chance to see me work, too. She quickly made schedule adjustments with the other employees and now I have a regular work schedule. On Saturday's, I'll work from 2:00-800 pm and on Sunday's, from 11-3 pm. It's a total of 10 hours, but I'm beginning to think that I'll be called in often to cover people who can't come in. I guess it's a common theme with the people who work there. It doesn't matter how often a person misses work, so long as he or she calls in beforehand, then it's ok to not show up. Even when someone can't be found to cover the shift. All that matters is calling in beforehand.

The day's summary: Morning was miserable. Allergies suck. My new job rocks. I love working the register. I enjoy going to sleep early, so I will. Goodnight.

I wasn't out in the brush more than two hours before my allergies decided I could go no longer.

My nose feels like someone rubbed Elmer's glue all over it and then dried it with a blow-dryer...

I just heard one of the best "old saying's" of my life.

Me: Yeah, our neighbor is a pretty grumpy guy.
Nate: I noticed. He kinda reminds me of my dad.
Me: You're dad?
Nate: Well, my dad wasn't... uh... wasn't one to believe in the old saying, "You can catch more bees with honey than with vinegar."
Me: ...
Nate: If you know what I mean?

I hate allergies... I hate allergies... I hate allergies.

I. HATE. ALLERGIES.

In Today's World News, the headline read:

MERMAN CAUGHT FROM THE ATLANTIC!

With a subquote, "There must be thousands of them down there!"

This is one of the best songs I've ever listened to...

I'm Still Here
by Johnny Rzeznik


I am a question to the world,
Not an answer to be heard,
or a moment that's held in your arms.
And what do you think you'd ever say?
I won't listen anyway:
You ignore me,
And I'll never be what you want me to be.

And what do you think you'd understand?
I'm a boy, no I'm a man.
You can't take me and throw me away.
And how can you learn what's never shown?
Yeah, you stand here on your own.
They don't know me 'cause I'm not here.

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They're the ones that stay the same.
The don't know me,
'Cause I'm not here.

And you see the things they never see
All you wanted, I could be
Now you know me, and I'm not afraid
And I wanna tell you who I am
Can you help me be a man?
They can't break me
As long as I know who I am

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They're the ones that stay the same.
They can't see me,
But I'm still here.

They can't tell me who to be,
'Cause I'm not what they see.
And the world is still sleepin',
While I keep on dreamin' for me.
And their words are just whispers,
And lies that I'll never believe.

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can they say i never change,
They're the ones that stay the same.
I'm the one now,
'Cause I'm still here.

I'm the one,
'Cause I'm still here.
I'm still here.
I'm still here.
I'm still here.

I will always be known for mixing up dates.

I thought I was supposed to go to Greenway today to volunteer planting trees and pulling weeds and like activities. I'm not sure why I thought I was supposed to go today. I honestly thought today was June 14th, the day of volunteering. I was up really early this morning, preparing to leave for Issaquah when it suddenly occurred to me that June 14th is on a Saturday. Why do I always do that? As soon as I figured the puzzle out, I crashed in bed once more.

And now I'm not sure what to do with the rest of my day...

I start working on Saturday at 2:00 pm! Mom's giving money to go buy "nice" clothes. So I'm heading to the Classiest of Classy! Good ol' Target!

When I went in for my interview last week, I told my mom I wanted to dress nicely, in a skirt and nice top, because I wanted to make a good impression. My mom said that Sue wouldn't care how I dressed and would probably rather see me in a casual pair of jeans and T-shirt. My mom has known Sue for several yeras now and I took her word for it and showed up to the interview in a T-shirt and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees. Apparently, Sue wasn't all too impressed by that, but my mom took the fall and said it was her fault.

So, to prove to Sue that I don't always dress like a hobo, I'm heading off to the prestigous Target to buy some new things that are cute, feminine, and above all, conservative. Wish me luck! Shopping is one my most dreaded experiences.

Fez called me yesterday and we talked for about 2.5 hours. Halfway through the conversation, we decided it would be cool to hang out the next day. He wanted to hear me play guitar and I thought it would be nice to keep the guy company since he can't really do much outside the house. Nearly losing your arm can basically make you prison-bound in your own home.

Sometime near the end of our conversation, we started talking about foreign countries and accents we like and I said, "British accents are my favorite, but I also like the way people from Wisconsin talk."

He replied, "Actually, my favorite accent is the Spanish accent, but that's probably because my girlfriend is from Spain."

How I wanted to respond? "What the #$%^@& *!#$% &*^! #$%^&@*! and you're $% &*^! #$%^&@*!???"

My actual response? "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, " he said, "I didn't tell you that?"

#$%^@& *!#$% &*^!...

"No, you didn't."

"Oh... I thought I did..."

Why do I suddenly feel like Cameron in Ferris Bueller's Day Off when he discovers how many miles have been added to his dad's car? Like the whole world needs to hear me scream.

He has a girlfriend...

Praise God for my Jones Soda fortune!!!

Financial security is just around the corner.

I seriously feel so much better.

Me: Steph, you and I are the funniest people I know!

Steph: I know! Me too!

And we mean it.

And to think I almost emptied my junk-mail folder! Like I'm some vicious animal mindless stoopid-head!

Technically, I'm done with my psychology class. However, my prof has made it perfectly clear that if I don't show up on Wednesday, she will surely remove 5 points (or more?) from my overall grade. I despise pointless threats... Still, I will go to class.

I haven't been called to come to work yet. Sue (my new boss) said she would let me know when she has the schedule figured out. That was four days ago. Still no word back. It might be a smart idea to give her a call. I hate to pester, but technically it has been a while since my interview which declared me "employed."

This morning, my laptop decided to freak out and not do anything. Hence why I was 15 minutes late to class. The first time in weeks that I would be on time and my laptop goes burzurke. Technology--my best friend and my worst enemy.

I wore a pink sweater to class for our presentation. We're graded on how we present and dressing nicely is one of those things my prof pays attention to. I'm desperate to change out of this thing. I need a T-shirt and shorts... like now... How do girls who dress classy every single day do it? When does the desperate need of feeling comfortable ever become so overwhelming that they simply cannot go another day wearing low-rise jeans and a pair of heels?

Oh yes... And thanks to Leah, I've discovered this fancy little site with fascinating images that depict dreamy storylines. Enjoy yourself.

This is how long my break from class was. Yeah. I'm talking about this. What your reading. This is how long my break was.

Photo Album Post



A beautiful day in Seattle; the start of a wonderful evening.



I decided the best idea would be to scare the pigeons... So I did. Thoroughly.







We rode on an indoor carousel! It was incredibly fun for something so simple as moving up and down for a period of three minutes.



This is a jaw bone of a sperm whale, but I just wanted to say that I feel bad that a whale has to be named after sperm...



Leah met a Christian clown who has a ministry and specializes in the art of inflatable expression.



We watched an elderly couple chase each other with around a fountain, flinging bottled water at each other and teasing each other wildly.



We met "Bud" and bought his friendship with the crust of Sarah's PB&J sandwich.



I thought this sign was funny...



Our view from the ferry...



Gazing back at the water...



They're on their prom...



Here we all are waiting for Switchfoot to start playing.



Switchfoot is great simply because it's Switchfoot.



These kids started moshing and I laughed at them a lot.



Sarah took this picture of Jerome. He's totally workin' those keys.



Yes, that's Austin and he really IS having a good time.



They just never stop being cool...





And Jon is such the rock star...



...especially when he sings "this is your life" into his guitar.



These girls think I'm taking a picture of them, but the only real thing I care about is the face that which is encircled. Hi, Erin.



Great show, boys. Great show. Into the night, as the sky became darker and darker, you kids just shone brighter and brighter.





The poor WRX got a flat tire on the way back home.



Aww, Trav... Sorry, man!



It's true. We thought the whole thing was pretty entertaining...



Yay for flat tires!

Blogger was interesting to begin with. Austin was the one who introduced it to me and I know for a fact he's very proud of this. He has preached the gospel of Blogger to countless people and I'm amazed at how many Blogger followers now exist within the core of whatever "circle of friends" we are part of.

When I started my own personal blog back in November of 2001, I didn't really have any sort of goal. I simply ranted aimlessly about nonsense and wondered if anyone besides Leah actually read it. I loved it though because when I was little and kept a diary, I always wished someone could actually read it and treat the information with absolute delicacy. Blogger allowed that wish to come true.

By some amazing mishap, I came across Jason's blog and several things occurred to me. 1) I loved his writing. 2) I wanted to write like him. 3) He had a function called "comments" that I'd never known existed. 4) My blog was pointless. 5) I became driven to improve as a writer. After that, things changed and I'm sure for the better. Before, I rambled stupidly and never felt accomplished for anything I ever wrote. There are still times when I feel as though I'm writing in vain--readers often miss the point or I don't really "capture" a reader in the same way so many of my mentors do.

I'm not even sure why I'm writing this all out now or if it even matters. I just know there are reasons and whether they're good or bad has nothing to do with it. Therefore, I write.

So my blog has been updated to BloggerBasic. I didn't choose for this to happen, however I think basically everyone's blog has been updated to this format. I'm still figuring things out, but I figure it'll become easier as time progresses.

Last night was crazy, as you might tell from all the audblogs. However, we all made it home safely and with wonderful memories. Poor Travis, though... And his poor WRX... Let's hope that situation turns out for the best. Time will tell...

Getting towed...

Flat tire...

Reminiscing over a great show...

Something a friend said has been echoing in my head for the last three days.

"I mean, I love you, but I miss the Carly you used to be."

I know. Wow, indeed.

Twenty-four oceans
Twenty-four skies
Twenty-four failures
Twenty-four tries
Twenty-four finds me in
Twenty-fourth place
Twenty-four drop-outs
At the end of the day
And I'm not who I thought I was
Twenty-four hours ago
Still I'm singin'
Spirit, take me up in arms with You

- Twenty-Four, from Switchfoot's latest, "The Beautiful Letdown"

So the guy who asked for my phone number last Tuesday night? He called. Care to know why no one won the bet? Here's the explanation.

My phone rings. The name says "Fez aka 'Joel'" on the face plate. Quite frankly, I was rather stunned.

Me: Hello?
Fez: Hello? Carly?
Me: That's me.
Fez: Carly, this is Joel.
Me: Right. Fez. How are you?
Fez: Good question. I wanted to call you and tell you why I didn't call you the other night.

At this point, I recognized his voice as somewhat feeble and weak.

Me: Don't worry about it.
Fez: Well, I wanted to call, but I'm kind of... well... I was in the hospital.
Me: The hospital??
Fez: Yeah... Actually, I still am.
Me: Oh my goodness! What happened?!
Fez: Um... A couple days after we met, I got locked out of my house. So I decided I'd try to climb in through a window. What ended up happening was my arm went through the glass and the glass... the glass went through my arm.
Me: Are you serious?! Will you be ok?!
Fez: Yeah, I'm going to be fine. I went through five hours of surgery, though. The doctors say I can't drive for 6-8 weeks and that I'll need therapy to get the function in my left hand back.

That's when it occurred to me how incredibly devastated Fez probably was. He's a guitar player and to lose the ability of an arm or hand would be very traumatic.

Me: Do you need anything? Does your family need help? My friends and I will glady offer our services if you need it.
Fez: Uh... Well, not really. I mean, thank you! But I think I leave the hospital tomorrow. But I'll definitely let you know if anything should come up.
Me: Tell you what. I'll call you on Monday to see how you're feeling. If you're feeling better and if you're up to it, maybe you can come hang out with me and some friends like before. I don't mind giving you the ride.
Fez: You're pretty far up north...
Me: It's totally fine. No one can go 6-8 weeks without hanging with some friends. So I'll call you on Monday?
Fez: Yeah. Definitely.
Me: Great. Feel better ok? And call if you need anything.
Fez: Ok.

Maybe I like him. Maybe I'm hoping to get to know him better. And maybe my intentions are undertoned with romanticism. In any case, if I nearly lost my arm in an accident such as that, I wouldn't mind the help from nearly-perfect strangers. And something tells me that he would have done the same for me. And that's all that counts.

It's a small shop at Redmond Town Center called The Eastside Dog. They sell dog products such as treats, toys, leashes, and big poofy beds for the family canine. Thankfully, there are no actual dogs. Don't get me wrong--I like dogs very much. However, I deal with dogs every single day at my own house. If I have to go work and deal with more dogs, I'm sorry, but I'd rather sharpen pencils all day long at Kinko's.

I met with Sue, the shop owner, yesterday afternoon and we talked for more than an hour. She asked me questions like, "Have you ever suffered from depression?" I told her "no" and she was very relieved. She has gone through three employees already and they've all suffered from the condition. "You don't smoke or drink?" To which I answered, "Nope. Not once." This came as shock to her, but I get that a lot from people. "If you worked Saturday nights, your dating life wouldn't suffer?" This question made me laugh very hard and she took that as her answer. Sue is a very kind, easy-going woman and I'm really looking forward to working for her.

She plans to schedule me for three-day weekends, Friday through Sunday, which will get me about 20 hours a week. It's perfect because that's just the right amount for someone who's working part-time and going to school at the same time. I know tons about dogs and all the aspects that include dogs--I have been around them my entire life so it kind of inevitable. It's even more worth it because she's starting my pay at $9.25 per hour. Definitely awesome.

The long-term benefits are even great. Once I've worked at The Eastside Dog for a significant amount of time, I'll have the experience in retail that will impress any business I apply to. At least, I hope it's impressive. Anyone with retail experience has a better chance at getting hired some place else than someone without that retail time.

So there you have it. The details. Anything else?

Job update:

I got one.

Pet Peeves

10. Do not pat the top of my head. I am not five.

9. Stop checking yourself in the mirror. You've looked four times already. The fold in your shirt is not going to stop bunching. It's time to let it go.

8. When I say "I'm not sure" or "I don't know," please do not respond with, "Why aren't you sure?" or "Why don't you know?" Spare me from having to repeat myself.

7. Why must you laugh obnoxiously with friends and say "Nothing" when I ask you what's so funny?

6. If I send you a generously written email, I'd appreciate a bit more than a simple "ok" in response.

5. When I say, "your mom," please don't respond with something that is not even remotely funny about your actual mother.

4. If you wear a striped T-shirt from Ross, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

3. When you say, "Just pray about it," and I say, "I have been," in reality, what I wanted to say was, "Shut up! Oh please, please, please! Just shut up!"

2. Do not mess up my hair. It took me 30 minutes to straighten it. Have some respect and don't touch my hair.

1. If and when you enter my room in the morning, do so quietly. Even if I have slept in! Pulling the door off its hinges is no less a surprise at 11:00 am as it is at 6:00 am. Any time, it'll throw me out of bed and into bad spirits. And no one likes to wake up in bad spirits. So help a girl out and open the door gently.

When I was little, kids used to stop me in the middle of recess to ask me the same question.

"Were you in a fight?"

It's true. I'm not sure what you're thinking at the moment. Perhaps you're trying to piece together information as to why children between the ages of six and thirteen were asking me this question on a regular basis. Whatever conclusions you're coming up with are probably better than the ending of this story. You think I was a rebellious kid? Always picking fights with older bullies who picked on my friends? Maybe I was mean and always fighting with kids, so other students always wondered whether or not it was true? No no... It was none of that...

"No..."

"You weren't?"

"Uh-uh. Why?"

"You have black eyes. You look like you got punched in the eyes."

The circles under my eyes used to get so dark, children actually thought other kids had punched me in the face. In reality, instead of children attacking me, it was actually my own body. Allergies. And I was allergic to basically anything. Grass seed, pollen, dust, the teensy bugs that lived inside the dust, weeds, and even stuffed animals... My allergies would get so bad that my nose would clog up causing the extremely dark bruising around the corners of my eyes.

When I moved to Washington after the third grade, my allergies seemed to lighten up. I didn't ever expect it since there's a lot more grass, dust, pollen, trees, and whatever else here. However, I didn't suffer nearly as bad as I had when I was living in Southern California. But that changed last summer at Creation Fest 2002.

The night we had arrived to the Gorge in George, Washington, I lay on my cot, not breathing. I woke up about 25 different times in the night because I'd stopped breathing. That morning, the girls woke up at about 5:30 am and I got up with them and we went to the showers. I hardly slept at all that night. Something in the air at night caused me to have one of the worst allergic reactions of my life. I barely slept at all that entire trip. A total four days. Instead of sleeping, I would walk around wrapped in a sleeping bag and I would clean the campsite. I'd stack chairs and throw away trash or put cans in the recycle bag. I kept myself busy until I felt I could sleep. However, sleeping became somewhat of a risk since I would wake up gasping for breath.

Spring has come and I'm afraid my allergic reactions to things are as bad (if not worse, I can't really remember) as when I lived in California. The other morning, I was shocked when I looked in the mirror because I finally saw what those kids could see. I looked as though I'd been in a fight.

I went with my mom grocery shopping this evening. It was a moment I tried desperately hard not to laugh out loud. Somehow, my mother, the grocer, and a 40-year-old bag-boy got to talking about Austin Powers: Goldmember...

Grocer: Last night, my son and I watched Goldmember for about the fourteenth time.
Bag-Boy: Which one is that again?
Mom: That's the one with Fat Bastard.
Grocer: Well, the second one has Fat Bastard in it too.
Bag-Boy: I'm not sure if I've seen that one.
Mom: Fat Bastard is in the first and third ones I think...
Grocer: Actually, I think he's in the second and the third.
Bag-Boy: Which one is the third one?
Mom: In the third one, Fat Bastard loses all that weight.
Grocer: That's right! At the very end! He loses all the weight! He goes on the Subway diet!
Bag-Boy: Subway diet?
Grocer: I also love the Goldmember character.
Mom: Who was he?
Grocer: He's the skater character. What ethnicity was he, though?
Mom: Swedish?
Grocer: I think he was Dutch.
Bag-Boy: Which one was this?
Mom: I love who played his father in the last one.
Grocer: Oh yeah! He's a great actor.
Mom: Yeah, he is.
Grocer: ...Shoot. I can't think of his name.
ME: Michael Cain.
Mom & Grocer: That's it!
Bag-Boy: I don't think I saw that one.

I want to go back to Hawaii... so bad...

I wanna be where the people are
I wanna see, wanna see 'em dancin'...

I have a weird, random obsession with the televison show Seventh Heaven... I just have some questions.

Why is every child in the family obnoxiously beautiful? Especially the girls?
Why are none of the kids physically similar in looks? Did the casting crew try hard at all at finding young actors who appear believably related? Or was "Are you pretty?" the only eliminating question on their casting sheets?
What is so extraordinarily cool about these girls' characters that they should have a brand new love interested every other episode? And why must each and every new boyfriend be as equally attractive (if not moreso) as the teenagers themselves?
Someone please tell me why the youngest boy's hair is freakishly blonde and his eyebrows are black?!
Why does the mother cry every... single... show?
And what Reverand (father of seven model-esque children) walks in on his two oldest daughters making out with their present boyfriends, interrupts them for a moment, but quickly brushes it off, "Don't mind me. I was just going to my office?"

You see? This show raises so many questions! While they drive me insane, I also find great entertainment in the whole messy, unbelievable--emphasis on unbelieveable--show. What's hilarious it's only been in the last month that I've noticed Seventh Heaven. I remember having friends who adored it and never missed it, but it never appealed to me. Now having seen about three or four episodes, I totally understand it's appeal. It's ridiculousness is the appeal. The vast amounts of ridiculousness is something I simply cannot resist.

You know what's sad? What's sad is when I get jealous of a dog who's romantic life is obviously more active than my own. What's sad is when I catch Rudy, my sister's dog, snoozling the neck of Dory, a dog presently staying at my house while her family is away.

"It's sweet but in a kinda gross way..." as my sister so appropriately put it.

"There is only one trick that marks the writer. He is always watching. It's a kind of trick of the mind and he is born with it." -Morley Callaghan