Best quote of the day (I made it up)
Expect nothing and you'll never be disappointed. Expect something special of yourself however, and you can make it happen every time.
Happy New Year's!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wrongly Accused
I hate getting crazy phone calls in the morning.
Today someone called my cellphone number and demanded her newspaper back. She was sure that it was me even though I told her that she had dialed a cell phone number whose address could not possibly be located in any phone book in the United States. When I'd asked her how she'd gotten my number she told me she was "psychic." I told her three separate times that neither I or any of my family members would steal her paper as we get our own. She responded with, "I'm not talking about your family members, I'm talking about YOU!" (Do I even know you?)
She then proceeded to tell me that it was completely understandable to steal a newspaper "for the thrill of it, not because it's right or wrong, just for the thrill." and that she herself would(does?) steal treadmills, not because she needed them, but for the the "thrill" of it. She was either off her rocker or in serious need of her morning cup of coffee. Then this woman had the audacity to call me rude for lying about stealing her paper because she had apparently "seen" me do this even though I hadn't step foot out of my house all morning.
"Well, I think it's rude that you would still accuse me of taking your paper when I've told you at least three times now that I didn't. Especially since my family doesn't condone stealing of any type! Have a nice day ma'me." And I hung up!
I wish I had come up with something better with stronger words but I was too angry at that point and I already knew it was pointless to reason with crazy people due to previous experience. How do I keep getting these phone calls?
Today someone called my cellphone number and demanded her newspaper back. She was sure that it was me even though I told her that she had dialed a cell phone number whose address could not possibly be located in any phone book in the United States. When I'd asked her how she'd gotten my number she told me she was "psychic." I told her three separate times that neither I or any of my family members would steal her paper as we get our own. She responded with, "I'm not talking about your family members, I'm talking about YOU!" (Do I even know you?)
She then proceeded to tell me that it was completely understandable to steal a newspaper "for the thrill of it, not because it's right or wrong, just for the thrill." and that she herself would(does?) steal treadmills, not because she needed them, but for the the "thrill" of it. She was either off her rocker or in serious need of her morning cup of coffee. Then this woman had the audacity to call me rude for lying about stealing her paper because she had apparently "seen" me do this even though I hadn't step foot out of my house all morning.
"Well, I think it's rude that you would still accuse me of taking your paper when I've told you at least three times now that I didn't. Especially since my family doesn't condone stealing of any type! Have a nice day ma'me." And I hung up!
I wish I had come up with something better with stronger words but I was too angry at that point and I already knew it was pointless to reason with crazy people due to previous experience. How do I keep getting these phone calls?
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Gift
A short Christmas story for the holidays :)
"The Gift"
There is a boy who is walking in the snow on Christmas Eve. The wind is biting and cold through his coat. But he keeps trudging on. He has a package that must be delivered tonight. His mother had baked special Christmas cookies that still felt warm in its wrapping. He was heading toward the little house on the hill.
The boy knocked on the door and he was hurried inside. When he saw the family his heart fell. They were bundled up in thin blankets and huddled near a small coal fire. He could see that the stockings each had only a small weight inside and the remains of a meager Christmas dinner sat on the table. He gave them the cookies and the children's eyes shone brightly at the sight of the colored and sugar coated treats.
The parents thanked him and offered him a place by their fire, but instead he said a quick goodbye and headed out the door. His own family would be waiting for him with a hot honey ham ready to eat and the Christmas tree with presents all beautifully wrapped sitting underneath. He didn't like the Christmas he had seen back there in the little home. It seemed too bad that such a good family would go with little that year.
He didn't know them very well. He only knew that they were new to the area and the father had lost his job that year. His mother had sent the cookies as a welcome present as well as a holiday treat. None of his family knew just how bad the situation was for the family on the hill. He could keep quiet and enjoy the bright warm Christmas in his own warm home with its piping hot fire place and warm mugs of chocolate to go around. He could just ignore the family he barely knew. He hurried through the snow, desperate to reach his family before the storm got too much worse. But he couldn't escape the thought. What if that had been his family?
He burst into their kitchen out of breath and told his family in a rush the state of Christmas for the family up on the hill. It was like every member knew exactly what to do. No one had to discuss it or say anything. The ham was neatly wrapped, coal was packed and the presents were stacked and each child held a Christmas burden in a sack.
They came quietly to the house, stacked the present and the ham, then as the family hid the smallest member knocked upon the door before hurrying away to hide. The father's face lit up in surprise, the mothers dissolved into tears. The presents were brought inside, and as the boy's family walked slowly back to their warm home with their empty tree they could hear the songs of praise raise behind them in the little house. And the boys heart was full.
The End
Christmas is so much more then getting, it's about giving. It always has been ever since the first Christmas. My favorite thing to do at Christmas is the "ding-dong gift ditch." Mainly because it's fun to try and not get caught, but also because we're giving a gift to someone and they don't know who its from. That makes it all the more special. (Mathew 6:3) What's your favorite Christmas thing to do? Hoped you like the story, I really just made it up.
Merry Christmas.
"The Gift"
There is a boy who is walking in the snow on Christmas Eve. The wind is biting and cold through his coat. But he keeps trudging on. He has a package that must be delivered tonight. His mother had baked special Christmas cookies that still felt warm in its wrapping. He was heading toward the little house on the hill.
The boy knocked on the door and he was hurried inside. When he saw the family his heart fell. They were bundled up in thin blankets and huddled near a small coal fire. He could see that the stockings each had only a small weight inside and the remains of a meager Christmas dinner sat on the table. He gave them the cookies and the children's eyes shone brightly at the sight of the colored and sugar coated treats.
The parents thanked him and offered him a place by their fire, but instead he said a quick goodbye and headed out the door. His own family would be waiting for him with a hot honey ham ready to eat and the Christmas tree with presents all beautifully wrapped sitting underneath. He didn't like the Christmas he had seen back there in the little home. It seemed too bad that such a good family would go with little that year.
He didn't know them very well. He only knew that they were new to the area and the father had lost his job that year. His mother had sent the cookies as a welcome present as well as a holiday treat. None of his family knew just how bad the situation was for the family on the hill. He could keep quiet and enjoy the bright warm Christmas in his own warm home with its piping hot fire place and warm mugs of chocolate to go around. He could just ignore the family he barely knew. He hurried through the snow, desperate to reach his family before the storm got too much worse. But he couldn't escape the thought. What if that had been his family?
He burst into their kitchen out of breath and told his family in a rush the state of Christmas for the family up on the hill. It was like every member knew exactly what to do. No one had to discuss it or say anything. The ham was neatly wrapped, coal was packed and the presents were stacked and each child held a Christmas burden in a sack.
They came quietly to the house, stacked the present and the ham, then as the family hid the smallest member knocked upon the door before hurrying away to hide. The father's face lit up in surprise, the mothers dissolved into tears. The presents were brought inside, and as the boy's family walked slowly back to their warm home with their empty tree they could hear the songs of praise raise behind them in the little house. And the boys heart was full.
The End
Christmas is so much more then getting, it's about giving. It always has been ever since the first Christmas. My favorite thing to do at Christmas is the "ding-dong gift ditch." Mainly because it's fun to try and not get caught, but also because we're giving a gift to someone and they don't know who its from. That makes it all the more special. (Mathew 6:3) What's your favorite Christmas thing to do? Hoped you like the story, I really just made it up.
Merry Christmas.
Monday, December 13, 2010
I Love Creative Buzzes
I was so encouraged by my peers and friends reaction to midnight manor I've recently planed out a whole series! O.k. so it's a trilogy, but it's a GOOD trilogy, full of fantastical monsters, a healthy dose of adventure, scar fair, and yes, a slight bit of romance.
Here's the plan, I'm expecting a list of literary classics from my Creative Writing teacher because according to him, (and who am I to argue?) I need to recon with the "greats" before I can consider myself a legit author. Even if I never write a book with quite their style I need to know what worked before. Kinda like the universal English rule where once you know the rules you can break them? Yeah, I've been breaking rules since I was in middle school, but I can only see an upside to this "summer homework." And while I'm reading a mountain of classics I'll be weaving new and exciting tales about monsters and researching the market.
I'm planning to stick to my English Major and Exercise Physiology Minor and see where it takes me. Cause once again I've proven to myself that math and science is more than just difficult for me, it's next to impossible at the college level. What can I say? It's hard to pay attention to subjects that don't interest me. Oh well.
Anyway, this is the year that I get a million rejections from publication companies and (hopefully, cross fingers!) get one acceptance. Wish me luck!
Here's the plan, I'm expecting a list of literary classics from my Creative Writing teacher because according to him, (and who am I to argue?) I need to recon with the "greats" before I can consider myself a legit author. Even if I never write a book with quite their style I need to know what worked before. Kinda like the universal English rule where once you know the rules you can break them? Yeah, I've been breaking rules since I was in middle school, but I can only see an upside to this "summer homework." And while I'm reading a mountain of classics I'll be weaving new and exciting tales about monsters and researching the market.
I'm planning to stick to my English Major and Exercise Physiology Minor and see where it takes me. Cause once again I've proven to myself that math and science is more than just difficult for me, it's next to impossible at the college level. What can I say? It's hard to pay attention to subjects that don't interest me. Oh well.
Anyway, this is the year that I get a million rejections from publication companies and (hopefully, cross fingers!) get one acceptance. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Midnight Manor
A bit of a cliche title, but that's o.k. Then maybe no one will steal my story. I know I've been all gruff and buff the last couple of posts so I thought it was about time I got back to my CREATIVE WRITER side of me.
So for my final I've had to write a short story. I like it a lot and I could see my self flushing it out for a Young Adult audience. It's in the revision process right now, but I thought I might as well post a portion of it anyway. Enjoy
Midnight Manor
(Note: This is the journal of a girl who was shipped off to a new academy by virtue of a free scholarship her mother won in an obscure magazine. Turns out that the academy is full of myths and monsters and she must find a way to survive or be eaten alive. Her waking nightmare is embodied by three of the most powerful students in the school, a banshee, a witch, and a werecat, who call themselves "The Three" and all take great delight in tormenting her. Meanwhile students have been going missing from the academy. If there's something that hunts monsters out there our heroine isn't so sure she wants to find out what it is!)
Day 23: Operation: SURVIVE!
I know it’s been a while, but you won’t believe the horror I’ve gone through! First of all, my own parents believe I’ve gone completely mad. They won’t believe that this school is full of monsters and are convinced that I’m just being an ungrateful twit after being offered a free scholarship. All I hear from home is how lucky I am to be in a brand new school (tell that to the mice!) and how fortunate it is that I’m here for free. So I just have to survive the term, then I’ll run away to Aunt Norma’s for my own protection. She’s a bit of spiritualist so she at least might believe me. It’s a pity I can’t remember her address.
I’ve been able to mask my scent thus far with a compound of witch herbs and other ingredients. It’s a bit musky smelling, but not too bad. Besides, that’s not the worst of my problems. The so called Three have pitted me as a target for their amusement. They found it hilarious that on the first day with Professor Vald Tepes (the one and only a.k.a. Dracula!) that my last name happened to be from an obscure family line and that I had openly admitted to having no monsterly talent whatsoever.
Quinn gets quite a kick out of waking me in the morning with his wailing screeches. But being a banshee that wasn’t all he could do. I’ve been tripped and trapped by his magic on numerous occasions, and apparently it’s funny when breakfast oatmeal turns to slugs in your mouth. Adela is worse. She manages to make me feel like a dust mite just by looking at me. She does this combination of glaring and ignoring that I’ve seen before in previous schools, only her glares are usually followed by some kind of misfortune. Misplaced pencils for example, or the words on my homework assignment rearranging themselves into complete gibberish. Manu mostly ignores me. He seems limited to turning into a tiger even though he’s supposed to be a first class sorcerer. He just stands there, big as a mountain, and ignores everything and everyone with a grumpy expression, when he’s up to it though he’ll creep around and scare the daylights out of me. He’ll appear out of nowhere when I leave the loo, or jump at me from around a corner, or yell one of his terrifying roars from right behind me. It’s all very exhausting!
One last strange item of interest, the student body seems to be decreasing. The number of tables set up at meal times is getting smaller and smaller. Not that I don’t mind the decrease of potential threats, as the Three aren’t the only ones who’ll bully me, but it is slightly unnerving. No one has said why any of the students have stopped coming or if they had just gone home. The teachers don’t seem too worried about it, but still…it makes me wonder if there is a bigger threat out there, bigger than the monsters themselves. Oh, it makes me shiver just to think about it! I should stop writing now. That is the last thing I want to think about while I am here! I get enough nightmares as it is. Usually about pranks the Three will pull. (Sadly, these pranks usually come to pass.) How I wish I could just go back to my comfortable safe Delta Academy!
Later…
I just had the most terrifying fright of my life! This evening, after a particularly nasty prank by a nasty siren creature, (she had the audacity to sing my hair into a frightful knot that I couldn’t untangle!) I had wandered out to a secluded part of the estate to let out some steam. The nerve of them all! Treating me like filth just because I didn’t have a noble title or could juggle a rock with my mind! I paced back and forth in an angry stupor, imagining crushing their skulls beneath my heels. I hated them all. I hated this school. I hated my parents for forcing me to remain here, and most of all I hated the Three!
I gasped and whirled around. Something, something very large had moved out near the edge of the woods. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I could hear its breath hissing between large jaws. I grew very cold. I’d lived among monsters long enough to know that whatever I imagined could easily materialize from those woods and devour me whole. Slowly, a massive sinuous head snaked out from between two trees with a low rumbling growl followed by a long body with two chicken-like legs inching it forward slowly. The rumbling growl turned into a massive roar and I felt hot breath and sticky spittle spray across my body.
It looked like it was about to charge when there was a blinding flash of light, a loud high piercing screech that rang in my ears followed quickly by pained roar and a whooshing of a fierce wind. I don’t know when I had fallen over or closed my eyes, but when I looked up again, completely breathless the monster was gone and in his place stood another monster crouching over me (of all people!) Quinn Byrne, leader of the Three.
“What the heaven were you thinking?” he demanded, “A weakling like you wandering near these woods at night is dangerous! That Jabberwocky nearly had you for dinner! You brainless, idiotic, half-witted, human!”
“Uh…what?” I said stupidly.
“Which part of brainless, idiotic-“
“I get it alright!” I growled, “Get off me!” He moved away and didn’t offer his hand to help me up. Despite my oddly grateful feeling toward him for saving me, my gut still clenched in fear, and it wasn’t only because of the weeks of torment I’d suffered from this ghoul, he had just called me out as human. I must have looked paler than Tzeital because Quinn laughed,
“What? As if we couldn’t tell that you were a human from the start. It’s going to take a lot more than mothballs and demon awful smelling witch herbs to fool those of our blood line.” Out of the shadows behind him stepped the rest of the Three with knowing looks in their eyes. I should have known they’d be nearby. The Three were inseparable.
“Y-you knew?” My knees nearly gave out from under me, “How?”
“Apart from the smell?” said Manu, “not even witches want to smell that offensive all the time. Plus you didn’t behave like a proper whatever you were trying to be. You just acted like a scared little rabbit all the time!”
“Thanks a lot.” I said, “S-so, what now? Are you going to eat me?”
“I only eat humans on holidays,” Manu growled, “What kind of weretiger do you take me for?”
“Besides,” said Quinn, “You possess certain qualities that we monsters prize in humans. In the past, you would have been elevated from stock to private slave.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”
“Prophetic dreams, the ability to see ghosts, the ability to mask your identity from the weak sighted, being able to sense what you can’t see, these are all traits of a first rate psychic.”
“That’s...great.” I said. I didn’t personally notice these gifts they claimed I had and I certainly didn’t like the look in their eyes. The more they talked the more hungry they seemed to look with a lustful glint at the corners of their shinning pupils.
“Here is my proposal,” said Quinn, “you help us solve the mystery of our missing classmates, and we’ll protect you from our teachers and anyone else who just happens to find out about you. Anyone would leave you alone once they find out you’re the property of the Three.”
That’s what I thought. It’s like they said, I’d be a glorified slave. Then again, the Three were powerful, and teaming up with them could help save my skin until the end of term when I could get out of this crazy place. And, strangely, I was also curious about what had happened to the others. If powerful monsters could disappear without a trace, so could one lowly human.
“It’s the perfect combination,” said Adela in her superior snooty voice, “A breed, a sorcerer, a witch, and a psychic, we should have this case wrapped up by noon tomorrow.”
I wish I had that much confidence! I don’t know the first thing about using my powers or even if I have them at all! However, it was true that there pranks didn’t fully surprise me, and I was beginning to almost predict whenever Manu would pop out around a corner. But that could be just paranoia built up over time. It’s too much to think about now. And even at this school, there is class to worry about tomorrow.
(AAAAAaaaaannnnddd that's all folks! Just kidding. There's more but I'm slightly paranoid about putting too much of a story online. I still have a lot to go on the literacy department, but an imagination is something just as valuable. I'll probably flush this story out someday into a novel or several short novels and adventures. It all really depends.)
So for my final I've had to write a short story. I like it a lot and I could see my self flushing it out for a Young Adult audience. It's in the revision process right now, but I thought I might as well post a portion of it anyway. Enjoy
Midnight Manor
(Note: This is the journal of a girl who was shipped off to a new academy by virtue of a free scholarship her mother won in an obscure magazine. Turns out that the academy is full of myths and monsters and she must find a way to survive or be eaten alive. Her waking nightmare is embodied by three of the most powerful students in the school, a banshee, a witch, and a werecat, who call themselves "The Three" and all take great delight in tormenting her. Meanwhile students have been going missing from the academy. If there's something that hunts monsters out there our heroine isn't so sure she wants to find out what it is!)
Day 23: Operation: SURVIVE!
I know it’s been a while, but you won’t believe the horror I’ve gone through! First of all, my own parents believe I’ve gone completely mad. They won’t believe that this school is full of monsters and are convinced that I’m just being an ungrateful twit after being offered a free scholarship. All I hear from home is how lucky I am to be in a brand new school (tell that to the mice!) and how fortunate it is that I’m here for free. So I just have to survive the term, then I’ll run away to Aunt Norma’s for my own protection. She’s a bit of spiritualist so she at least might believe me. It’s a pity I can’t remember her address.
I’ve been able to mask my scent thus far with a compound of witch herbs and other ingredients. It’s a bit musky smelling, but not too bad. Besides, that’s not the worst of my problems. The so called Three have pitted me as a target for their amusement. They found it hilarious that on the first day with Professor Vald Tepes (the one and only a.k.a. Dracula!) that my last name happened to be from an obscure family line and that I had openly admitted to having no monsterly talent whatsoever.
Quinn gets quite a kick out of waking me in the morning with his wailing screeches. But being a banshee that wasn’t all he could do. I’ve been tripped and trapped by his magic on numerous occasions, and apparently it’s funny when breakfast oatmeal turns to slugs in your mouth. Adela is worse. She manages to make me feel like a dust mite just by looking at me. She does this combination of glaring and ignoring that I’ve seen before in previous schools, only her glares are usually followed by some kind of misfortune. Misplaced pencils for example, or the words on my homework assignment rearranging themselves into complete gibberish. Manu mostly ignores me. He seems limited to turning into a tiger even though he’s supposed to be a first class sorcerer. He just stands there, big as a mountain, and ignores everything and everyone with a grumpy expression, when he’s up to it though he’ll creep around and scare the daylights out of me. He’ll appear out of nowhere when I leave the loo, or jump at me from around a corner, or yell one of his terrifying roars from right behind me. It’s all very exhausting!
One last strange item of interest, the student body seems to be decreasing. The number of tables set up at meal times is getting smaller and smaller. Not that I don’t mind the decrease of potential threats, as the Three aren’t the only ones who’ll bully me, but it is slightly unnerving. No one has said why any of the students have stopped coming or if they had just gone home. The teachers don’t seem too worried about it, but still…it makes me wonder if there is a bigger threat out there, bigger than the monsters themselves. Oh, it makes me shiver just to think about it! I should stop writing now. That is the last thing I want to think about while I am here! I get enough nightmares as it is. Usually about pranks the Three will pull. (Sadly, these pranks usually come to pass.) How I wish I could just go back to my comfortable safe Delta Academy!
Later…
I just had the most terrifying fright of my life! This evening, after a particularly nasty prank by a nasty siren creature, (she had the audacity to sing my hair into a frightful knot that I couldn’t untangle!) I had wandered out to a secluded part of the estate to let out some steam. The nerve of them all! Treating me like filth just because I didn’t have a noble title or could juggle a rock with my mind! I paced back and forth in an angry stupor, imagining crushing their skulls beneath my heels. I hated them all. I hated this school. I hated my parents for forcing me to remain here, and most of all I hated the Three!
I gasped and whirled around. Something, something very large had moved out near the edge of the woods. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I could hear its breath hissing between large jaws. I grew very cold. I’d lived among monsters long enough to know that whatever I imagined could easily materialize from those woods and devour me whole. Slowly, a massive sinuous head snaked out from between two trees with a low rumbling growl followed by a long body with two chicken-like legs inching it forward slowly. The rumbling growl turned into a massive roar and I felt hot breath and sticky spittle spray across my body.
It looked like it was about to charge when there was a blinding flash of light, a loud high piercing screech that rang in my ears followed quickly by pained roar and a whooshing of a fierce wind. I don’t know when I had fallen over or closed my eyes, but when I looked up again, completely breathless the monster was gone and in his place stood another monster crouching over me (of all people!) Quinn Byrne, leader of the Three.
“What the heaven were you thinking?” he demanded, “A weakling like you wandering near these woods at night is dangerous! That Jabberwocky nearly had you for dinner! You brainless, idiotic, half-witted, human!”
“Uh…what?” I said stupidly.
“Which part of brainless, idiotic-“
“I get it alright!” I growled, “Get off me!” He moved away and didn’t offer his hand to help me up. Despite my oddly grateful feeling toward him for saving me, my gut still clenched in fear, and it wasn’t only because of the weeks of torment I’d suffered from this ghoul, he had just called me out as human. I must have looked paler than Tzeital because Quinn laughed,
“What? As if we couldn’t tell that you were a human from the start. It’s going to take a lot more than mothballs and demon awful smelling witch herbs to fool those of our blood line.” Out of the shadows behind him stepped the rest of the Three with knowing looks in their eyes. I should have known they’d be nearby. The Three were inseparable.
“Y-you knew?” My knees nearly gave out from under me, “How?”
“Apart from the smell?” said Manu, “not even witches want to smell that offensive all the time. Plus you didn’t behave like a proper whatever you were trying to be. You just acted like a scared little rabbit all the time!”
“Thanks a lot.” I said, “S-so, what now? Are you going to eat me?”
“I only eat humans on holidays,” Manu growled, “What kind of weretiger do you take me for?”
“Besides,” said Quinn, “You possess certain qualities that we monsters prize in humans. In the past, you would have been elevated from stock to private slave.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”
“Prophetic dreams, the ability to see ghosts, the ability to mask your identity from the weak sighted, being able to sense what you can’t see, these are all traits of a first rate psychic.”
“That’s...great.” I said. I didn’t personally notice these gifts they claimed I had and I certainly didn’t like the look in their eyes. The more they talked the more hungry they seemed to look with a lustful glint at the corners of their shinning pupils.
“Here is my proposal,” said Quinn, “you help us solve the mystery of our missing classmates, and we’ll protect you from our teachers and anyone else who just happens to find out about you. Anyone would leave you alone once they find out you’re the property of the Three.”
That’s what I thought. It’s like they said, I’d be a glorified slave. Then again, the Three were powerful, and teaming up with them could help save my skin until the end of term when I could get out of this crazy place. And, strangely, I was also curious about what had happened to the others. If powerful monsters could disappear without a trace, so could one lowly human.
“It’s the perfect combination,” said Adela in her superior snooty voice, “A breed, a sorcerer, a witch, and a psychic, we should have this case wrapped up by noon tomorrow.”
I wish I had that much confidence! I don’t know the first thing about using my powers or even if I have them at all! However, it was true that there pranks didn’t fully surprise me, and I was beginning to almost predict whenever Manu would pop out around a corner. But that could be just paranoia built up over time. It’s too much to think about now. And even at this school, there is class to worry about tomorrow.
(AAAAAaaaaannnnddd that's all folks! Just kidding. There's more but I'm slightly paranoid about putting too much of a story online. I still have a lot to go on the literacy department, but an imagination is something just as valuable. I'll probably flush this story out someday into a novel or several short novels and adventures. It all really depends.)
Saturday, December 4, 2010
IT'S OVER!! ......or is it?
The triathlon is over.
But first, the couple dance. I made it two rounds with my partner, which turned out to be a good thing because I had about 10 minutes to get to the pool. We had fun. He wore a snazzy fedora and a pin-stripped suit with a black button up and a red tie. (I can see why girls like the mafia look. Very attractive.) I wore my white fluffy skirt and silk blue shirt. We were excellent dance partners. I think what killed us was that we made up a new move in the second round. Oh well, we had fun anyway.
I was VERY impressed by how gentlemanly he was. He even offered a hand to help me jump down from a high place and always escorted me everywhere we went. He was impressed with the upper upperclassman's shiny shirts and more than once wished he was wearing it. I told him that he should go ask him for it after-wards or steal it off his back as I could imagine him having a gun holster hidden under that jacket. (then in an accent) "I don't know why but the Family wants the shirt. Give it to me now!" He laughed.
Triathlon.
I finished it! Well duh, all I had to do was keep going until the time ran out, but it was still hard. There was only one other guy competing with me and when we got to the treadmills he started talking to me.
"First time?"
pant pant "Yes"
"You're doing pretty good for your first time.
pant pant pant "Thanks!
Ending score? I did 350yd swim, a 4 mile bike ride (it was the bikes I swear! Thank goodness we actually used the standing up ones and not the reclining ones or I would have been sunk!) and a 1.7 mile run. I feel really good...and really tired. I still have one more competition to get to tonight. I think I'll just stay for my five dances, 90 mins, and group performance then go hit the sack.
Later
So I really didn't want to go to the dance. I was pooped! Wonder why? In addition to the goings on above I've been running all over town and campus to help my roommates decorate our apartment for a Christmas competition. Fun. But exhausting. I had to literally drag my feet out the door. But once I got to the dance I was able to put on a happy face and practice with my group, (If you could call it that, a good half-hour of it was arguing) and then dancing with six different partners in the first half. All very charming and good men. Changed for our performance and danced with four more guys then performed. We fudged our way through it, but finished with style. All in all. A good day.
But first, the couple dance. I made it two rounds with my partner, which turned out to be a good thing because I had about 10 minutes to get to the pool. We had fun. He wore a snazzy fedora and a pin-stripped suit with a black button up and a red tie. (I can see why girls like the mafia look. Very attractive.) I wore my white fluffy skirt and silk blue shirt. We were excellent dance partners. I think what killed us was that we made up a new move in the second round. Oh well, we had fun anyway.
I was VERY impressed by how gentlemanly he was. He even offered a hand to help me jump down from a high place and always escorted me everywhere we went. He was impressed with the upper upperclassman's shiny shirts and more than once wished he was wearing it. I told him that he should go ask him for it after-wards or steal it off his back as I could imagine him having a gun holster hidden under that jacket. (then in an accent) "I don't know why but the Family wants the shirt. Give it to me now!" He laughed.
Triathlon.
I finished it! Well duh, all I had to do was keep going until the time ran out, but it was still hard. There was only one other guy competing with me and when we got to the treadmills he started talking to me.
"First time?"
pant pant "Yes"
"You're doing pretty good for your first time.
pant pant pant "Thanks!
Ending score? I did 350yd swim, a 4 mile bike ride (it was the bikes I swear! Thank goodness we actually used the standing up ones and not the reclining ones or I would have been sunk!) and a 1.7 mile run. I feel really good...and really tired. I still have one more competition to get to tonight. I think I'll just stay for my five dances, 90 mins, and group performance then go hit the sack.
Later
So I really didn't want to go to the dance. I was pooped! Wonder why? In addition to the goings on above I've been running all over town and campus to help my roommates decorate our apartment for a Christmas competition. Fun. But exhausting. I had to literally drag my feet out the door. But once I got to the dance I was able to put on a happy face and practice with my group, (If you could call it that, a good half-hour of it was arguing) and then dancing with six different partners in the first half. All very charming and good men. Changed for our performance and danced with four more guys then performed. We fudged our way through it, but finished with style. All in all. A good day.
Friday, December 3, 2010
NERVES!!!
I feel like my blood is on fire and my breath just isn't working the way it's supposed to because some demon decided to lodge it's claws deep into my chest!
Why?
I'll tell you why...
I can't believe I did this to myself. I have a couple dance competition at 9:45 am tomorrow, a triathlon at 10:30 am, a last minute rehearsal at 7:00 and a group/formal dance at 9:00 pm!!! Hello, I'm not very good at competitions. Part of the reason why I sounded so bad as a trumpeter in band was because I would get so tight on stage that I couldn't play. Sports is a whole different stage but it's still a stage I can look like an idiot on. I'm excited to compete, but I'm also scared out of my wits!
Earlier this semester I tried to participate in a Saturday dodge-ball tournament, besides the fact that it looked like I was going to have to wait at least 4 HOURS before I'd even get to play, my brain kept telling me, "You're not an athlete, you can't do this, you don't belong here." So..I left.
I'm scared that I'm going to walk into that pool room and that same demonic voice is going to enter my skull and ruin my performance. It doesn't help that they changed the rules LAST MINUTE. Instead of getting as much time as I want to complete 300yd swim, 8 mile bike, and 2 mile run. I only get 10 min to swim, 20 min to bike, and 15 min to run as far as I can and it doesn't matter how far that is. PLUS we're not using the stationaries but the the reclining machine bikes. Totally different muscle groups and brand of equipment. I've been training on the wrong bikes all month!!
I'm wearing my 2010 champion shirt that I earned in ward softball as a sort of good luck charm. Praying would be a good idea too. Whatever happens tomorrow I'm going to do this. For me if nothing else. Because I don't want to go back to that girl who wasn't confident at all and couldn't do the things she wanted to.
I've always wanted to be an athlete, ever since I was in elementary school and saw all those kids running ahead of me and feeling so angry and ashamed at myself for being fat and slow I've dreamed of being with the kids up front. I've always admired athletes. And I believe that if I really wanted to I could become a triathlete. I could compete in the big cities someday. I just got to get over this mental block that I'm not good enough to do this. I've trained all month for this. I'm going to do it no matter what. If I can't do this, what right have I to believe that I can achieve any of my dreams? It's not like they're going to kick me out of the race. I could do only one lap and they'd still keep me. It's not difficult. But I'd still like to try for the original distances anyway. That would really make my day.
Wish me luck.
Why?
I'll tell you why...
I can't believe I did this to myself. I have a couple dance competition at 9:45 am tomorrow, a triathlon at 10:30 am, a last minute rehearsal at 7:00 and a group/formal dance at 9:00 pm!!! Hello, I'm not very good at competitions. Part of the reason why I sounded so bad as a trumpeter in band was because I would get so tight on stage that I couldn't play. Sports is a whole different stage but it's still a stage I can look like an idiot on. I'm excited to compete, but I'm also scared out of my wits!
Earlier this semester I tried to participate in a Saturday dodge-ball tournament, besides the fact that it looked like I was going to have to wait at least 4 HOURS before I'd even get to play, my brain kept telling me, "You're not an athlete, you can't do this, you don't belong here." So..I left.
I'm scared that I'm going to walk into that pool room and that same demonic voice is going to enter my skull and ruin my performance. It doesn't help that they changed the rules LAST MINUTE. Instead of getting as much time as I want to complete 300yd swim, 8 mile bike, and 2 mile run. I only get 10 min to swim, 20 min to bike, and 15 min to run as far as I can and it doesn't matter how far that is. PLUS we're not using the stationaries but the the reclining machine bikes. Totally different muscle groups and brand of equipment. I've been training on the wrong bikes all month!!
I'm wearing my 2010 champion shirt that I earned in ward softball as a sort of good luck charm. Praying would be a good idea too. Whatever happens tomorrow I'm going to do this. For me if nothing else. Because I don't want to go back to that girl who wasn't confident at all and couldn't do the things she wanted to.
I've always wanted to be an athlete, ever since I was in elementary school and saw all those kids running ahead of me and feeling so angry and ashamed at myself for being fat and slow I've dreamed of being with the kids up front. I've always admired athletes. And I believe that if I really wanted to I could become a triathlete. I could compete in the big cities someday. I just got to get over this mental block that I'm not good enough to do this. I've trained all month for this. I'm going to do it no matter what. If I can't do this, what right have I to believe that I can achieve any of my dreams? It's not like they're going to kick me out of the race. I could do only one lap and they'd still keep me. It's not difficult. But I'd still like to try for the original distances anyway. That would really make my day.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tutoring is like a Bowl of Psychology
It's official. I love my job. End of story.
I am a writing tutor and my students are usually freshmen. They come to our office and I sit with them and talk about the pieces they have assigned in the class and give them a short grammar lesson. It may be required work for them to come see me once a week, but for me it's weekly fun!
For instance, I just had a student who wanted to write her final paper about when her family adopted a little girl and custody battle that followed. This papers only guideline is that they need to use all of the tools that they've learned through the semester in being physically, emotionally, and psychology descriptive. Meaning being able to show me the place, make me feel what they felt, and perhaps get a relate able moral to boot.
This is a place where I get to put my psychologist hat on. In addition to the question, "How did you feel about that?" I ask "What else can you tell me about this event? At what point did you have the change of heart? Is there a specific moment or was it gradual?" It's great. And I usually get a laugh out of it.
In other news. Crystal is sitting right next to me and is acting like a creeper! Haha, just kidding. She's my dance buddy and new friend as of this year. She teaches with the enemy tutors "across the glass" eeeevvvviiiillll. Anyway gotta go.
I am a writing tutor and my students are usually freshmen. They come to our office and I sit with them and talk about the pieces they have assigned in the class and give them a short grammar lesson. It may be required work for them to come see me once a week, but for me it's weekly fun!
For instance, I just had a student who wanted to write her final paper about when her family adopted a little girl and custody battle that followed. This papers only guideline is that they need to use all of the tools that they've learned through the semester in being physically, emotionally, and psychology descriptive. Meaning being able to show me the place, make me feel what they felt, and perhaps get a relate able moral to boot.
This is a place where I get to put my psychologist hat on. In addition to the question, "How did you feel about that?" I ask "What else can you tell me about this event? At what point did you have the change of heart? Is there a specific moment or was it gradual?" It's great. And I usually get a laugh out of it.
In other news. Crystal is sitting right next to me and is acting like a creeper! Haha, just kidding. She's my dance buddy and new friend as of this year. She teaches with the enemy tutors "across the glass" eeeevvvviiiillll. Anyway gotta go.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Just because you've never done it before doesn't mean you'll never be able to
New life decision! In addition to my life goals of being a mom, author, and physical therapy assistant I'm going to be a tri-athlete! And someday, I'd like to run in the Boston Marathon.
I know that seems a bit much, but all this cardio over the past month has got me thinking...I like being competitive. I like the conditioning and the goal making and the promise of a competition at the end. So why not?
I was talking about this with a friend of mine at work and the guy sitting next to us over-heard the whole thing...coincidences of coincidences he's actually run in the Boston Marathon, was wearing the jacket to prove it, and was planning on trying out for the Olympics. Hello!
In other news I have a couple of goals for this winter. Starting with a job shadow this Monday at a physical therapy clinic where I plan to make myself as marketable as possible and then maybe land a job that I could keep year round at school. Also, I'm going to research the publishing process religiously and see if I can't get an article in a few magazines, maybe land an agent and a book deal. Probably not this year, but I have to start sometime.
Sigh, so many dreams, so little time. Maybe I'm going to have to postpone my learning to play the violin/piano, skydiving, scuba diving, and Europe tour goals? I may seem like a bit of a dreamer, but my attitude has always been and probably always will be...well...why not? Just a bit of motivation and maybe a little cash and you're golden. Life is meant to be an adventure and I fully intend to live it even with all its faults and disappointments. That's part of what makes it exciting. There's always something that can be worked towards and talents that can be perfected and obstacles to overcome.
Speaking of which here's Obstacles I've recently overcome that are responsible for my current happy mood:
The idea that my body image has anything to do with my relationships with people. The truth is that people are attracted to personality, not curves (or extreme excess of them) And as long as I'm truly happy with myself nothing else matters.
The lie that I'm a horrible person that no one likes me because I've done x,y, and z. The past is the past. If I was perfect I'd be God. All I have control over is myself and I am pretty awesome and can live that way today and forever. Learn from history, but always move forward, not backward.
I can't run or do things because I'm not enough whatever...well guess what...I can RUN!! Enough said.
Healthy food is gross and too much work. Reality check, I like healthy food and how it makes me feel and helps my body perform and I'm a pretty good cook too.
I'll never be able to publish. A whole semester of Creative Writing later and people saying awesome things about my work = a great confidence booster. Even the negative comments made me feel good about it. I guess that's because it shows me that they actually cared enough to think about it unlike in high school where I had this "good writer" stigma so no one even bothered to look over my stuff and just said, "It was good." Psh, heck yeah it was good, but it still bothered me that they didn't even read it.
Moral of the story? Life can be amazing if you just change your focus and perspective. Then all things are possible.
I know that seems a bit much, but all this cardio over the past month has got me thinking...I like being competitive. I like the conditioning and the goal making and the promise of a competition at the end. So why not?
I was talking about this with a friend of mine at work and the guy sitting next to us over-heard the whole thing...coincidences of coincidences he's actually run in the Boston Marathon, was wearing the jacket to prove it, and was planning on trying out for the Olympics. Hello!
In other news I have a couple of goals for this winter. Starting with a job shadow this Monday at a physical therapy clinic where I plan to make myself as marketable as possible and then maybe land a job that I could keep year round at school. Also, I'm going to research the publishing process religiously and see if I can't get an article in a few magazines, maybe land an agent and a book deal. Probably not this year, but I have to start sometime.
Sigh, so many dreams, so little time. Maybe I'm going to have to postpone my learning to play the violin/piano, skydiving, scuba diving, and Europe tour goals? I may seem like a bit of a dreamer, but my attitude has always been and probably always will be...well...why not? Just a bit of motivation and maybe a little cash and you're golden. Life is meant to be an adventure and I fully intend to live it even with all its faults and disappointments. That's part of what makes it exciting. There's always something that can be worked towards and talents that can be perfected and obstacles to overcome.
Speaking of which here's Obstacles I've recently overcome that are responsible for my current happy mood:
The idea that my body image has anything to do with my relationships with people. The truth is that people are attracted to personality, not curves (or extreme excess of them) And as long as I'm truly happy with myself nothing else matters.
The lie that I'm a horrible person that no one likes me because I've done x,y, and z. The past is the past. If I was perfect I'd be God. All I have control over is myself and I am pretty awesome and can live that way today and forever. Learn from history, but always move forward, not backward.
I can't run or do things because I'm not enough whatever...well guess what...I can RUN!! Enough said.
Healthy food is gross and too much work. Reality check, I like healthy food and how it makes me feel and helps my body perform and I'm a pretty good cook too.
I'll never be able to publish. A whole semester of Creative Writing later and people saying awesome things about my work = a great confidence booster. Even the negative comments made me feel good about it. I guess that's because it shows me that they actually cared enough to think about it unlike in high school where I had this "good writer" stigma so no one even bothered to look over my stuff and just said, "It was good." Psh, heck yeah it was good, but it still bothered me that they didn't even read it.
Moral of the story? Life can be amazing if you just change your focus and perspective. Then all things are possible.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Ironman done!
Today I biked 40 miles in 98 min....wheww!!
The good news? I'm done with the Ironman! Next up, Tri-a-tri!
As for the writing field. I'm excited to get my short story back tomorrow and see what people have to say about it...and slightly nervous. Wish me luck!
The good news? I'm done with the Ironman! Next up, Tri-a-tri!
As for the writing field. I'm excited to get my short story back tomorrow and see what people have to say about it...and slightly nervous. Wish me luck!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Ironman Update, Tangled, Turkey, and Tunes
ALMOST DONE!!
I would like to take this moment to just say...I'm awesome. That's it. I. Am. Awesome. The end. I have three days left to complete the Ironman and I only have 40 miles left to complete on a bike. Piece of cake with two actually workable work out days left. I finished the swim today plus a lap and ran 4 miles yesterday which completed the running miles. Well, in all honesty it was more of a continuous run/jog, but that's not important.
I ended up not doing to Turkey trot due to lack of time and the extreme cold front that moved into upper east Idaho. Hello, we've never had snow stick this long on the ground in southern Idaho before. Cold, yes; wind, yes; week-long ground snow, hmmm not very often (I did get to make a giant snow bear sculpture out of it.)
But that doesn't mean I'm not doing the Tri-a-Tri this Saturday. As its all indoor you can see why I'm more excited about that one.
So the family got together for Thanksgiving. My mom, B and L with their kids and husbands, D, and S and me. Five girls, two husbands, three babies and a grandma. B as the eldest and live in college student with her family at my mom's house was in charge of the meal. She brined the turkey and can I say, wow, I've never had a truly moist turkey before this one. Brinning is really the only way to go. Super flavorful and super delicious! The mashed potatoes, which I helped with, were also tasty (B says they were salty but I disagree). And of course we had stuffing (I actually enjoyed it this year, not loved, but I did enjoy it) and steamed vegetables and PIE. Cherry pie, divine; apple pie, hm; chocolate pecan, oh wow (And I usually don't like pecan); I didn't actually get to the pumpkin in time. Oh well.
It was great to have the family together. There was laughter, tears, philosophical discussion, and more tears. We went to see Tangled, a very funny Disney movie based on the Grimm's fairy tale "Rapunzel" my favorite part was her bi-polar moment, so funny.
It's been great to be home and be able to catch up on current media. I miss music. Radio tunes (any music) helps me to meditate and come up with story ideas or just relax. Getting a quality radio at school is difficult, anything less than government issue would receive static due to the hills. (Actually, government issue could be potentially worse than home built but that's a whole other issue involving a bunch of politics I don't feel like getting into right now.)
Let's see what else...built a partial igloo with K, my bff, played with the S-man, and Zsa Zsa...yep that pretty much sums up my vacation. Tomorrow I go back to the Burg early in the morning because there's another storm warning for that afternoon that could close the roads....again....sigh...well that's life.
Wishing adventure aplenty in this world of never ending stories. (I think it's funny that people seem to think there's an end point or goal to their lives, a final chapter and then happily ever after, but if you think about it there's no such thing until death. There's always a chance to do or learn something new.)
I would like to take this moment to just say...I'm awesome. That's it. I. Am. Awesome. The end. I have three days left to complete the Ironman and I only have 40 miles left to complete on a bike. Piece of cake with two actually workable work out days left. I finished the swim today plus a lap and ran 4 miles yesterday which completed the running miles. Well, in all honesty it was more of a continuous run/jog, but that's not important.
I ended up not doing to Turkey trot due to lack of time and the extreme cold front that moved into upper east Idaho. Hello, we've never had snow stick this long on the ground in southern Idaho before. Cold, yes; wind, yes; week-long ground snow, hmmm not very often (I did get to make a giant snow bear sculpture out of it.)
But that doesn't mean I'm not doing the Tri-a-Tri this Saturday. As its all indoor you can see why I'm more excited about that one.
So the family got together for Thanksgiving. My mom, B and L with their kids and husbands, D, and S and me. Five girls, two husbands, three babies and a grandma. B as the eldest and live in college student with her family at my mom's house was in charge of the meal. She brined the turkey and can I say, wow, I've never had a truly moist turkey before this one. Brinning is really the only way to go. Super flavorful and super delicious! The mashed potatoes, which I helped with, were also tasty (B says they were salty but I disagree). And of course we had stuffing (I actually enjoyed it this year, not loved, but I did enjoy it) and steamed vegetables and PIE. Cherry pie, divine; apple pie, hm; chocolate pecan, oh wow (And I usually don't like pecan); I didn't actually get to the pumpkin in time. Oh well.
It was great to have the family together. There was laughter, tears, philosophical discussion, and more tears. We went to see Tangled, a very funny Disney movie based on the Grimm's fairy tale "Rapunzel" my favorite part was her bi-polar moment, so funny.
It's been great to be home and be able to catch up on current media. I miss music. Radio tunes (any music) helps me to meditate and come up with story ideas or just relax. Getting a quality radio at school is difficult, anything less than government issue would receive static due to the hills. (Actually, government issue could be potentially worse than home built but that's a whole other issue involving a bunch of politics I don't feel like getting into right now.)
Let's see what else...built a partial igloo with K, my bff, played with the S-man, and Zsa Zsa...yep that pretty much sums up my vacation. Tomorrow I go back to the Burg early in the morning because there's another storm warning for that afternoon that could close the roads....again....sigh...well that's life.
Wishing adventure aplenty in this world of never ending stories. (I think it's funny that people seem to think there's an end point or goal to their lives, a final chapter and then happily ever after, but if you think about it there's no such thing until death. There's always a chance to do or learn something new.)
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Run Part 2 and Writing Excellence
So today when I went to the gym to complete my swim I found out that the pool will not be open until 4pm due to intramural sports.....yeah. Since I was at the gym anyway I decided that two weeks into the Ironman would be a good time reassess and evaluate my progress and where I wanted to be. The results?...
In 5 days I need to complete 15 miles of running = approximately 3 miles per scheduled run day.
In 5 days I need to complete a 71 mile bike ride = approximately 14 miles per scheduled bike day. (Not worried at all, biking is my strong suit)
In 4 days I need to complete 81 full swim laps = approximately 20 laps per scheduled swim day. (Considering that I nearly died from 16 laps last Saturday this is something I am not looking forward too, but I should also consider that I spent a whole hour on the treadmill right before that so...I think it can be done!)
All in all, I think I will be ready for that triathlon in December.
As far as writing goes I love my Creative Writing class. I just completed a rough short story about a human girl thrust into a world of monsters at an academy and my roommates liked it. They keep telling me what a good writer I am and stuff and it just makes me feel better about switching back to a creative writing major. Maybe I can live off this talent I have? Hmmmmmm.
In 5 days I need to complete 15 miles of running = approximately 3 miles per scheduled run day.
In 5 days I need to complete a 71 mile bike ride = approximately 14 miles per scheduled bike day. (Not worried at all, biking is my strong suit)
In 4 days I need to complete 81 full swim laps = approximately 20 laps per scheduled swim day. (Considering that I nearly died from 16 laps last Saturday this is something I am not looking forward too, but I should also consider that I spent a whole hour on the treadmill right before that so...I think it can be done!)
All in all, I think I will be ready for that triathlon in December.
As far as writing goes I love my Creative Writing class. I just completed a rough short story about a human girl thrust into a world of monsters at an academy and my roommates liked it. They keep telling me what a good writer I am and stuff and it just makes me feel better about switching back to a creative writing major. Maybe I can live off this talent I have? Hmmmmmm.
Friday, November 12, 2010
D. and Math110
Let me tell you about a guy named D.
He's autistic, super smart, and unintentionally funny!
One time my math teacher was telling the class that he would bet $100 on his answer. D, voice full of shock said, "But, Brother P, we're Mormon! We aren't SUPPOSED to gamble. And I think you as a Professor at BYU-I should know that!" The class busted up laughing and the teacher took a full ten minutes explaining how betting and gambling are actually two different things. The joke was carried on for days!
Another time Brother P. was likening taking the number out of the square root like two people breaking out of jail and one of them getting zapped by the electric wire. He then leaned over to D. and said, "Please don't tell President Clark I'm teaching you guys how to break out of jail." the class chuckled and D. said, "I'm pretty sure if I wasn't autistic I would be laughing too!" And then he actually started laughing too even though he didn't know why.
However, one guy (I'll blame it on the fact that it was Monday and he was probably having a bad day because usually none of us have a problem with D. thinking out loud.) told D. to be quiet when he was asking Brother P. a question. The class got really quiet and D. was obviously upset. And so was Brother P. He nearly cried as he told the class how he believed that it was a miracle that D. was there at all and how he very much appreciated him and his mind, and if anyone had any problems to come see him privately.
I personally think Brother P. is a genius at handling D. Left alone D. would talk non-stop and act like the only kid in class. Brother P. gives him just enough attention to make him feel valued and D. won't continue talking when Brother P. isn't giving him his undivided attention. Does D. get more attention than the rest of us? Sure. But like I said, he's smart, and he's helped me understand a few things every now and then so he's not wasting the classes time at all. And the fact that he's not afraid to voice what the rest of us are thinking is a blessing. Enough said.
He's autistic, super smart, and unintentionally funny!
One time my math teacher was telling the class that he would bet $100 on his answer. D, voice full of shock said, "But, Brother P, we're Mormon! We aren't SUPPOSED to gamble. And I think you as a Professor at BYU-I should know that!" The class busted up laughing and the teacher took a full ten minutes explaining how betting and gambling are actually two different things. The joke was carried on for days!
Another time Brother P. was likening taking the number out of the square root like two people breaking out of jail and one of them getting zapped by the electric wire. He then leaned over to D. and said, "Please don't tell President Clark I'm teaching you guys how to break out of jail." the class chuckled and D. said, "I'm pretty sure if I wasn't autistic I would be laughing too!" And then he actually started laughing too even though he didn't know why.
However, one guy (I'll blame it on the fact that it was Monday and he was probably having a bad day because usually none of us have a problem with D. thinking out loud.) told D. to be quiet when he was asking Brother P. a question. The class got really quiet and D. was obviously upset. And so was Brother P. He nearly cried as he told the class how he believed that it was a miracle that D. was there at all and how he very much appreciated him and his mind, and if anyone had any problems to come see him privately.
I personally think Brother P. is a genius at handling D. Left alone D. would talk non-stop and act like the only kid in class. Brother P. gives him just enough attention to make him feel valued and D. won't continue talking when Brother P. isn't giving him his undivided attention. Does D. get more attention than the rest of us? Sure. But like I said, he's smart, and he's helped me understand a few things every now and then so he's not wasting the classes time at all. And the fact that he's not afraid to voice what the rest of us are thinking is a blessing. Enough said.
Ironman Update
Only two weeks in and I'm already feeling physically drained from this Ironman...I've had to literally beat myself up mentally to go to the gym the last two days and I'm fighting a cold. My goal? Do the cardio and only the cardio to keep up with my schedule, my weight-training will just have to wait until either the cold is gone or my body catches up with my new routine.
The good news? I found out that I actually like cardio. You know how men supposedly have a nothing box? Well, I think I have a nothing box because once I hop on that bike or that treadmill it's like the world goes away and all there is, is sensory motion. Then I look up and it's like "whoa, time-travel!" Because it feels like I've only been on there two minutes but it's really been twenty!
Go figure?
The good news? I found out that I actually like cardio. You know how men supposedly have a nothing box? Well, I think I have a nothing box because once I hop on that bike or that treadmill it's like the world goes away and all there is, is sensory motion. Then I look up and it's like "whoa, time-travel!" Because it feels like I've only been on there two minutes but it's really been twenty!
Go figure?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Roommate randoms
My status for today, "No song quite says it when you've regretted something you've eaten into the porcelain god like, "It's too late to Apologize" Come on, sing it with me. It's too late to apologize. It's to laaaaaatte!" My poor roommate was feeling a little funny in the tummy and when she went to take care of it she played the ihome at the same time and that song just happened to be the next one on! So funny!
Other fun quotes from the roommate quote wall!
"I don't care how many fish are in the sea, I want THAT fish!"
"That's what she said." duh, that's there every semester.
"Women have wardrobes, men have survival gear."
"Hey Cupid, could you shoot both of us next time? Thanks."
"Paligadate." Mormon humor at it's best.
"Ancient proverb, non of your beeswax!"
"BYU-I have nothing better to do!"
"Trouble follows me everywhere, come on in!"
"I have to fart right now but I don't trust myself."
"Why won't you let me touch you, you're not set apart yet?"
Plus a plethora of movie quotes. That's all for now!
PS: I ran 3 miles today!
Other fun quotes from the roommate quote wall!
"I don't care how many fish are in the sea, I want THAT fish!"
"That's what she said." duh, that's there every semester.
"Women have wardrobes, men have survival gear."
"Hey Cupid, could you shoot both of us next time? Thanks."
"Paligadate." Mormon humor at it's best.
"Ancient proverb, non of your beeswax!"
"BYU-I have nothing better to do!"
"Trouble follows me everywhere, come on in!"
"I have to fart right now but I don't trust myself."
"Why won't you let me touch you, you're not set apart yet?"
Plus a plethora of movie quotes. That's all for now!
PS: I ran 3 miles today!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
A new story
So an idea for a short novel has been floating around in my head.
It's a conversion/transformation story about a girl with a past and no contact to God. Her path crosses with a witch who wants to use her soul to pay off the devil. The witch causes an accident and because one righteous man involved wasn't affected by the spell and had tried to save her the original spell goes awry (I think that's the word I want) and she doesn't die. If she had died, her soul would have been the witch's.
A "spell world" or "coma world" is created where the people in the accident are the main characters. And she learns about God from this righteous man who is a member of the LDS church (but he doesn't specifically tell her that.) There's a bunch of other elements too, but I don't want to put it online because there are lame people who steal other authors ideas.
Anyway, I already have the end planed out which says something for the life of this story. In other words, it might actually come to pass. Maybe I'll use the idea for my creative writing class.
It's a conversion/transformation story about a girl with a past and no contact to God. Her path crosses with a witch who wants to use her soul to pay off the devil. The witch causes an accident and because one righteous man involved wasn't affected by the spell and had tried to save her the original spell goes awry (I think that's the word I want) and she doesn't die. If she had died, her soul would have been the witch's.
A "spell world" or "coma world" is created where the people in the accident are the main characters. And she learns about God from this righteous man who is a member of the LDS church (but he doesn't specifically tell her that.) There's a bunch of other elements too, but I don't want to put it online because there are lame people who steal other authors ideas.
Anyway, I already have the end planed out which says something for the life of this story. In other words, it might actually come to pass. Maybe I'll use the idea for my creative writing class.
RUN RUN RUN as fast and I CAN!!
OK, so I'm feeling either completely awesome or completely insane.
Why?
Well let's see, I'm planning on doing a triathlon Dec 4th that consists of a 300 yd swim, an 8 mile bike ride, and a 2 mile run. That doesn't sound too bad now does it? Even if I am completely out of shape (which, admittedly, I kinda am) and have never run 2 miles straight in my life. I have a whole month to train for that.
But wait, there's more!
During the month of November I will be participating in the Lazyman Ironman competition. I have one month to complete a 2.7 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and a 26 mile run. (and...I get a t-shirt!) But that's still not too bad is it? A Lazyman Ironman would be good for training for a triathlon.
Oh, but it get's better.
On November 13th I will also compete in an outdoor 5k turkey trot. If I manage to complete the run close enough to my predicted time I win a free turkey for my families annual all American turkey dinner!
Ok, two triathlons and a 5k may seem a little much, but that's still not too bad if I stay focused. However, I'm also competing with personal health history. My athletic experience includes: one year of soccer, one year of swim team, about eight years soft ball, and nine years of Jujitsu. That's it.
In High School I was the dorky fluffy book girl who wanted to be one of the tall funny wire muscle bound girls on the basketball team. If you had asked me to run I would have said, "cha, dream on! Coordination I have, but speed? I poop out after running the length of one block!"
Still, being fit is one of my life long goals. I just hadn't felt motivated to do anything about it until college. I've tried a couple of programs, (Weight Watchers, Jillian Micheal's website) but I find that if I have a program it just gives me an excuse to blame the program and not my eating habits or lack of exercise. "I'm paying money, the weight should just magically come off!"
Uh, no.
Every program has told me that it's all up to me. And I'm a firm believer that if you want something to happen for your body you've got to love your body enough and want it bad enough to motivate yourself to do it. Don't count on a workout buddy, don't count on a programs motivational speeches, that's all just nudge work. If you want to be fit, the only person you can count on to get you out that door is you. Don't expect someone else to drag you by the hand to where you want to be. Just get up and walk!
With that attitude I've toned up a bit, but I haven't really lost any weight. I blame my lack of self-control when loving roommates offer everything from fresh brownies to 5 buck pizza! And the fact that I love free weights and find cardio workouts to be a bit boring.
But these races have lit a fire under me. I want to compete and I want to finish something that I've never done before. I don't have to win, I just have to finish. And we'll see what a whole month of heavy cardio and a little weight training will do for my plateau problem.
I haven't been under 180 lbs since I was 12. My whole adult life I've bounced between 188 and 195. The last time I took a skin-fold test I was 33% body fat. It's time to break the cycle! I'll have another test at the end of November to see it there's been any progress.
Wish me luck!
Why?
Well let's see, I'm planning on doing a triathlon Dec 4th that consists of a 300 yd swim, an 8 mile bike ride, and a 2 mile run. That doesn't sound too bad now does it? Even if I am completely out of shape (which, admittedly, I kinda am) and have never run 2 miles straight in my life. I have a whole month to train for that.
But wait, there's more!
During the month of November I will be participating in the Lazyman Ironman competition. I have one month to complete a 2.7 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and a 26 mile run. (and...I get a t-shirt!) But that's still not too bad is it? A Lazyman Ironman would be good for training for a triathlon.
Oh, but it get's better.
On November 13th I will also compete in an outdoor 5k turkey trot. If I manage to complete the run close enough to my predicted time I win a free turkey for my families annual all American turkey dinner!
Ok, two triathlons and a 5k may seem a little much, but that's still not too bad if I stay focused. However, I'm also competing with personal health history. My athletic experience includes: one year of soccer, one year of swim team, about eight years soft ball, and nine years of Jujitsu. That's it.
In High School I was the dorky fluffy book girl who wanted to be one of the tall funny wire muscle bound girls on the basketball team. If you had asked me to run I would have said, "cha, dream on! Coordination I have, but speed? I poop out after running the length of one block!"
Still, being fit is one of my life long goals. I just hadn't felt motivated to do anything about it until college. I've tried a couple of programs, (Weight Watchers, Jillian Micheal's website) but I find that if I have a program it just gives me an excuse to blame the program and not my eating habits or lack of exercise. "I'm paying money, the weight should just magically come off!"
Uh, no.
Every program has told me that it's all up to me. And I'm a firm believer that if you want something to happen for your body you've got to love your body enough and want it bad enough to motivate yourself to do it. Don't count on a workout buddy, don't count on a programs motivational speeches, that's all just nudge work. If you want to be fit, the only person you can count on to get you out that door is you. Don't expect someone else to drag you by the hand to where you want to be. Just get up and walk!
With that attitude I've toned up a bit, but I haven't really lost any weight. I blame my lack of self-control when loving roommates offer everything from fresh brownies to 5 buck pizza! And the fact that I love free weights and find cardio workouts to be a bit boring.
But these races have lit a fire under me. I want to compete and I want to finish something that I've never done before. I don't have to win, I just have to finish. And we'll see what a whole month of heavy cardio and a little weight training will do for my plateau problem.
I haven't been under 180 lbs since I was 12. My whole adult life I've bounced between 188 and 195. The last time I took a skin-fold test I was 33% body fat. It's time to break the cycle! I'll have another test at the end of November to see it there's been any progress.
Wish me luck!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Life as usual and then some
So, even though this is now supposed to be a personal blog I have mixed feelings putting my life online. For one, I'm a very private kind of person. For another I know some people have the gift of making their lives funny and entertaining like my sister in her "idahobecky" blog and others don't.
Guess there's nothing left to do but take the plunge.
I'm 20, a college student, single, and a bit overweight....about 30% body fat over weight. I'm 5'6" and weigh about 190. (I need another skin-fold test to see how much of that is muscle.) I am an aspiring creative writer and Physical Therapy Assistant. I know those two things normally don't go together, but trust me, this time they do....I think.
I've been through so many career changes in the last three months alone I'm starting to get sick of it. The only thing that could match in current drama in my life is academics. I've switched classes this semester about as many times as I've changed careers.
On a brighter note, I'm training to compete in my first triathlon in Dec. 300yd swim, 8 mile bike ride, and 2 mile run. This is part of my goal to become a healthy and fit specimen that can compete in the Physical Therapy world. I'm also competing in a LAZYMAN Iron man as part of training for the triathlon that lasts the whole month of November.
Also on a bright note, I've gotten more English career experience this semester than ever before by virtue of knowing one special man. He has a blog called "dearbrojo." It's an advice column for young LDS teens and Young Single Adults about dating. I started reading it about two months after he started and have been hooked ever since. I wrote him a few times and he wrote back and we've chatted on facebook and soon became net friends. I did some PR work for his latest books "Bro Jo's Guide to Relationships" and another one for teens. And now he wants me to review his book for his publisher. Can we say "resume material?"
I love my job tutoring writing students on campus. They're all bright-eyed bushy tailed freshmen with great ideas and each have fairly good skills at writing already. As for my job off-track, I'm going to try to land a job as a Physical Therapy Aide, aides don't need any more education than High School, and it would get me the hours I need to eventually complete an associates. I just need to find someone who wouldn't mind having me around only three months out of the year at home, or someone who wouldn't mind having me around school hours at school.
Like I said life is good, it's just complicated. I guess this is what they mean when they say you have to take the bitter with the sweet.
Guess there's nothing left to do but take the plunge.
I'm 20, a college student, single, and a bit overweight....about 30% body fat over weight. I'm 5'6" and weigh about 190. (I need another skin-fold test to see how much of that is muscle.) I am an aspiring creative writer and Physical Therapy Assistant. I know those two things normally don't go together, but trust me, this time they do....I think.
I've been through so many career changes in the last three months alone I'm starting to get sick of it. The only thing that could match in current drama in my life is academics. I've switched classes this semester about as many times as I've changed careers.
On a brighter note, I'm training to compete in my first triathlon in Dec. 300yd swim, 8 mile bike ride, and 2 mile run. This is part of my goal to become a healthy and fit specimen that can compete in the Physical Therapy world. I'm also competing in a LAZYMAN Iron man as part of training for the triathlon that lasts the whole month of November.
Also on a bright note, I've gotten more English career experience this semester than ever before by virtue of knowing one special man. He has a blog called "dearbrojo." It's an advice column for young LDS teens and Young Single Adults about dating. I started reading it about two months after he started and have been hooked ever since. I wrote him a few times and he wrote back and we've chatted on facebook and soon became net friends. I did some PR work for his latest books "Bro Jo's Guide to Relationships" and another one for teens. And now he wants me to review his book for his publisher. Can we say "resume material?"
I love my job tutoring writing students on campus. They're all bright-eyed bushy tailed freshmen with great ideas and each have fairly good skills at writing already. As for my job off-track, I'm going to try to land a job as a Physical Therapy Aide, aides don't need any more education than High School, and it would get me the hours I need to eventually complete an associates. I just need to find someone who wouldn't mind having me around only three months out of the year at home, or someone who wouldn't mind having me around school hours at school.
Like I said life is good, it's just complicated. I guess this is what they mean when they say you have to take the bitter with the sweet.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Memoirs of a Creative Writer
It has recently occurred to me that my blog doesn't necessarily need to be about all things creative writing. It's called "MEMOIRS OF A CREATIVE WRITER," for a reason. They're my memories, and as I have a hard time keeping up in my written journal it makes sense to make this my journal blog.
(The lack of activity in my hand written journal is partially due to the fact that I want to keep it for a special purpose and not run out of room before then. As this event hasn't happened yet it's better to just do an electronic journal since I enjoy typing more than hand-writing anyway.)
What's new?
Well, college is fun. Tutoring writing students is even more fun and boys are hardly scarce. That's my little update for now. Gotta go to work.
(The lack of activity in my hand written journal is partially due to the fact that I want to keep it for a special purpose and not run out of room before then. As this event hasn't happened yet it's better to just do an electronic journal since I enjoy typing more than hand-writing anyway.)
What's new?
Well, college is fun. Tutoring writing students is even more fun and boys are hardly scarce. That's my little update for now. Gotta go to work.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The essay of the drowned
This is an assignment I had in English. Hope you like it!
There’s Death in the Water
I think it’s funny how something so innocent can in an instant become deadly, even something as harmless as a pool of water. We think we control it. Trapping it inside concrete or plastic and then splashing it around as if we somehow own it. I know better. Water can be submissive but if given the chance it could kill a grown man in minutes.
It was a hard lesson I learned long ago when I was little. The sky was a beautiful blue and warm and my sisters and my cousins and I found escape from the heat in my best friend’s pool. It was the biggest pool I’d ever seen in a backyard, over 12 feet in a diameter with a slick plastic bottom that slopped sharply down to six feet deep. Katie and I couldn’t swim yet, but that didn’t matter because half of the pool was less than four feet deep. The water was cool and soft and we would dive under it to catch up the bright plastic pieces of buried treasure. Seeing my family laugh and play in the deep end my friend and I decided to explore and see how far out we could really go. Looking back it was a stupid plan, but reason seems to fail when bravery is called for to stretch our mortal limitations.
We found out that if you gripped the sides of the pool you could go all the way around it and if we stretched our toes way far down we could stand on the inch of slick plastic ledge that stood out from the wall. We felt like fearless explorers climbing the icy heights of Mt. Everest as we circled the pool several times.
My friend grew tired of the game long before I did and she went back to diving for treasure in what I now considered the “kiddy-end.” I wanted to be out there in the deeper end with my family, but the closest I could get to them was the wall. The water soared and called to me like a siren’s song to come and play and bask in its glittering cascade. I wanted to join their splashing games. After all I couldn’t be hurt. Such was my thinking as I made my way out to the deeper end. I stopped and gripped the pool bottom hard with my toes, letting go of the wall I stretched my arms out to splash my sister. My toes slipped suddenly out from under me and I was down, down in the sparkling depths of the pool water.
I shut my eyes and mouth tight. It was quiet. I couldn’t breathe. I knew I was floating somewhere between the air and the bottom unable to touch either. I wanted to panic, I wanted to scream! There was a fire in my chest that was growing bigger by the second. Suddenly something inside me stirred; some sort of quiet calm that raised its head and said logically, “Well, you’re going to have to breathe sometime. Now how are you going to do it? There is air above you how will you get there?” I opened my eyes and I saw the legs of my family kicking around in the water. I remembered the diving for treasure game. Sometimes Katie and I would brace our feet on the bottom before pushing up hard to see how high we could jump into the air. Sometime as graceful dolphins, other times as beautiful mermaids, the creatures that ruled the waters and the sea as humans never could. In order to survive, I’d have to become a dolphin.
I moved my arms above my head and I sunk down until I could feel the slick rubber bottom with my feet then I kicked up hard. My head broke the surface and I was able to grab a big swallow before sinking back down. I could feel that stirring calm growing even stronger. It pushed against my rising panic, forcing me to keep my mouth shut and to think. “You know how get air.” It said, “Now you have all the time in the world. Think. How are you going to get out of the pool?”
“I’ll yell for help!” I thought. I pushed hard against the pool floor trying to make this the biggest jump of my life, but I was back down in the water without having had time to make so much as a squeak. I tried at least three more times before realizing I wasn’t going to get any help from my noisy inattentive family. I tried walking up the steep slope of the pool to safety. Bouncing up and down through the water like some strange slow moving sea rabbit. But the slick floor would just slip me back down into the deep end. I began to pray at that point. I was getting tired and it was getting harder and harder to push myself up and out of the water. If there was any time for God to rescue me it would have to be soon. I remembered my mother, quietly but very firmly always saying, “Now, don’t go to the deep end or you’ll drown.” “Honey, don’t go far without a grownup or you’ll drown.” Well, I was already in the deep end and I was beginning to wish that moms were more forthcoming with how to get out of trouble instead of just how to avoid it.
I was beginning to think water had won. That I would just lie on the bottom of Katie’s pool until someone would notice my cold corpse and finally pulled it out. The fire that had fueled my determination to survive was dimming; the voice that had kept me calm was silent. I broke out of the water for what I thought was one of the last times. Through my bleary water stained eyes I could see an angel coming towards me. It was my sister, Diantha, she was swimming in my direction. “Oh please let her see me!” I started jumping higher and higher and watched hoping that she would just notice me drowning in this stupidly designed pool. Finally, she swam close to where I was and I grabbed her, pulling myself up onto her back and gasping for blessed sweet air taken in slow deep breaths. As soon as I could talk I had her take me to the side where I could tumble out and continue to breathe the wonderful muggy air of that summer day, just grateful to be alive!
No one had even notice my battle with death that day. My sisters tried to deny it when I told my mom that I had nearly drowned. They claimed that I had been playing safely with Katie the whole time. Diantha thought that I had somehow jumped from the shallow end to grab her. I think my tears and descriptions convinced my mother. It didn’t matter. Nothing could change the fact that I’d nearly drowned and not one of them had even noticed. Years later when I asked Diantha about it she didn’t even remember the incident, though she remembered many other fond memories of our childhood. It’s hard to be mad at an angel who forgets saving you from drowning. Still, water had left its scar. I know that death waits in the water. One moment of panic, one second where your guard is down then the cooling embrace that saves us from the burning sun will become a cage of icy of choking silence. The water will hold you in a state of limbo with no way to escape its massive power. I had been lucky.
A bit long for a blog post, but that's still only part of the essay. I thought it was good, and my class certainly enjoyed the tension as much as they enjoyed ripping it to pieces in the discussion panel. I think that's the most fun I've had talking about writing in my life.
There’s Death in the Water
I think it’s funny how something so innocent can in an instant become deadly, even something as harmless as a pool of water. We think we control it. Trapping it inside concrete or plastic and then splashing it around as if we somehow own it. I know better. Water can be submissive but if given the chance it could kill a grown man in minutes.
It was a hard lesson I learned long ago when I was little. The sky was a beautiful blue and warm and my sisters and my cousins and I found escape from the heat in my best friend’s pool. It was the biggest pool I’d ever seen in a backyard, over 12 feet in a diameter with a slick plastic bottom that slopped sharply down to six feet deep. Katie and I couldn’t swim yet, but that didn’t matter because half of the pool was less than four feet deep. The water was cool and soft and we would dive under it to catch up the bright plastic pieces of buried treasure. Seeing my family laugh and play in the deep end my friend and I decided to explore and see how far out we could really go. Looking back it was a stupid plan, but reason seems to fail when bravery is called for to stretch our mortal limitations.
We found out that if you gripped the sides of the pool you could go all the way around it and if we stretched our toes way far down we could stand on the inch of slick plastic ledge that stood out from the wall. We felt like fearless explorers climbing the icy heights of Mt. Everest as we circled the pool several times.
My friend grew tired of the game long before I did and she went back to diving for treasure in what I now considered the “kiddy-end.” I wanted to be out there in the deeper end with my family, but the closest I could get to them was the wall. The water soared and called to me like a siren’s song to come and play and bask in its glittering cascade. I wanted to join their splashing games. After all I couldn’t be hurt. Such was my thinking as I made my way out to the deeper end. I stopped and gripped the pool bottom hard with my toes, letting go of the wall I stretched my arms out to splash my sister. My toes slipped suddenly out from under me and I was down, down in the sparkling depths of the pool water.
I shut my eyes and mouth tight. It was quiet. I couldn’t breathe. I knew I was floating somewhere between the air and the bottom unable to touch either. I wanted to panic, I wanted to scream! There was a fire in my chest that was growing bigger by the second. Suddenly something inside me stirred; some sort of quiet calm that raised its head and said logically, “Well, you’re going to have to breathe sometime. Now how are you going to do it? There is air above you how will you get there?” I opened my eyes and I saw the legs of my family kicking around in the water. I remembered the diving for treasure game. Sometimes Katie and I would brace our feet on the bottom before pushing up hard to see how high we could jump into the air. Sometime as graceful dolphins, other times as beautiful mermaids, the creatures that ruled the waters and the sea as humans never could. In order to survive, I’d have to become a dolphin.
I moved my arms above my head and I sunk down until I could feel the slick rubber bottom with my feet then I kicked up hard. My head broke the surface and I was able to grab a big swallow before sinking back down. I could feel that stirring calm growing even stronger. It pushed against my rising panic, forcing me to keep my mouth shut and to think. “You know how get air.” It said, “Now you have all the time in the world. Think. How are you going to get out of the pool?”
“I’ll yell for help!” I thought. I pushed hard against the pool floor trying to make this the biggest jump of my life, but I was back down in the water without having had time to make so much as a squeak. I tried at least three more times before realizing I wasn’t going to get any help from my noisy inattentive family. I tried walking up the steep slope of the pool to safety. Bouncing up and down through the water like some strange slow moving sea rabbit. But the slick floor would just slip me back down into the deep end. I began to pray at that point. I was getting tired and it was getting harder and harder to push myself up and out of the water. If there was any time for God to rescue me it would have to be soon. I remembered my mother, quietly but very firmly always saying, “Now, don’t go to the deep end or you’ll drown.” “Honey, don’t go far without a grownup or you’ll drown.” Well, I was already in the deep end and I was beginning to wish that moms were more forthcoming with how to get out of trouble instead of just how to avoid it.
I was beginning to think water had won. That I would just lie on the bottom of Katie’s pool until someone would notice my cold corpse and finally pulled it out. The fire that had fueled my determination to survive was dimming; the voice that had kept me calm was silent. I broke out of the water for what I thought was one of the last times. Through my bleary water stained eyes I could see an angel coming towards me. It was my sister, Diantha, she was swimming in my direction. “Oh please let her see me!” I started jumping higher and higher and watched hoping that she would just notice me drowning in this stupidly designed pool. Finally, she swam close to where I was and I grabbed her, pulling myself up onto her back and gasping for blessed sweet air taken in slow deep breaths. As soon as I could talk I had her take me to the side where I could tumble out and continue to breathe the wonderful muggy air of that summer day, just grateful to be alive!
No one had even notice my battle with death that day. My sisters tried to deny it when I told my mom that I had nearly drowned. They claimed that I had been playing safely with Katie the whole time. Diantha thought that I had somehow jumped from the shallow end to grab her. I think my tears and descriptions convinced my mother. It didn’t matter. Nothing could change the fact that I’d nearly drowned and not one of them had even noticed. Years later when I asked Diantha about it she didn’t even remember the incident, though she remembered many other fond memories of our childhood. It’s hard to be mad at an angel who forgets saving you from drowning. Still, water had left its scar. I know that death waits in the water. One moment of panic, one second where your guard is down then the cooling embrace that saves us from the burning sun will become a cage of icy of choking silence. The water will hold you in a state of limbo with no way to escape its massive power. I had been lucky.
A bit long for a blog post, but that's still only part of the essay. I thought it was good, and my class certainly enjoyed the tension as much as they enjoyed ripping it to pieces in the discussion panel. I think that's the most fun I've had talking about writing in my life.
Comic, Stress, and Future grumpypants
Alright. So I was going to upload my comics. Keyword "was" should tell you that after trying every format and document under the sun blogspot.com doesn't like my comic. I guess it just doesn't have a sense of humor.
In other news I'm now taking a Creative Writing class and loving every minute of that. I'm also taking a Chemistry class which I am failing...sigh..I guess you really can't beat nature. I never was really good a science and math. What on earth possessed me into thinking I could actually become a highly paid, respected, and fully professional PT? (For those not familiar PT=Physical Therapist) To add insult to injury my mother decides to just now inform me that I had always been too happy to learn how to sit down and seriously study. Thank you mom.
So the question now is, do I push through years of torturous school full of subjects I have no talent for or do I go to my plans B,C,D, etc?
Ideally with my life I'd like to get married, write from home as a stay-at-home mom and also work part time as a PTA, personal trainer, or some other fitness related position.
To achieve this I could switch back to an English major, finish my degree, then go to a two year vocational college and get certified as either a PTA or a personal trainer and live close to the poverty line until I add another income to my family. Or I could cut my losses here and go to a PT school NOW while at the same time losing all my chances at the wonderful men at BYU-I and the clean English classes provided....sigh.
My gut says to do the above because I am a firm believer that whatever your career is, you should be passionate about it,and I for one am not passionate about chemistry. But I am passionate about personal health and wellness and the creative writing field.
I don't think old people remember or appreciate how difficult being twenty is anymore. It's a slow, painful morphing process from childhood to serious adulthood that can either churn out respectable young men and women or worn out basement living slugs who can't bring themselves to the realization that high school will never happen again.
Oh, what to do!
In other news I'm now taking a Creative Writing class and loving every minute of that. I'm also taking a Chemistry class which I am failing...sigh..I guess you really can't beat nature. I never was really good a science and math. What on earth possessed me into thinking I could actually become a highly paid, respected, and fully professional PT? (For those not familiar PT=Physical Therapist) To add insult to injury my mother decides to just now inform me that I had always been too happy to learn how to sit down and seriously study. Thank you mom.
So the question now is, do I push through years of torturous school full of subjects I have no talent for or do I go to my plans B,C,D, etc?
Ideally with my life I'd like to get married, write from home as a stay-at-home mom and also work part time as a PTA, personal trainer, or some other fitness related position.
To achieve this I could switch back to an English major, finish my degree, then go to a two year vocational college and get certified as either a PTA or a personal trainer and live close to the poverty line until I add another income to my family. Or I could cut my losses here and go to a PT school NOW while at the same time losing all my chances at the wonderful men at BYU-I and the clean English classes provided....sigh.
My gut says to do the above because I am a firm believer that whatever your career is, you should be passionate about it,and I for one am not passionate about chemistry. But I am passionate about personal health and wellness and the creative writing field.
I don't think old people remember or appreciate how difficult being twenty is anymore. It's a slow, painful morphing process from childhood to serious adulthood that can either churn out respectable young men and women or worn out basement living slugs who can't bring themselves to the realization that high school will never happen again.
Oh, what to do!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
There and Back again
I can't seem to let this story die. It's basically about a boy from the normal universe being transported to the dimension of Fae, or Faerie as the myths tell it, and I've been over the plot over and over for years, but I've never been satisfied.
Now I'm going over it again. Only this time I'm only allowed to look at basic note documents and I'm never to even touch the old revisions as this will be a completely revised plot. I guess I'm just too fond of it. Its one of the only books I've ever actually completed, its a good story idea but the logic in it was just too....blah. If I keep the new script pure I might actually be able to pull this story off.
On a side note. The comics are going well. I've already drawn up 6 strips and I just have to find time to ink them over and scan them in. And then hopefully there will be no technical difficulties posting them here.
Now I'm going over it again. Only this time I'm only allowed to look at basic note documents and I'm never to even touch the old revisions as this will be a completely revised plot. I guess I'm just too fond of it. Its one of the only books I've ever actually completed, its a good story idea but the logic in it was just too....blah. If I keep the new script pure I might actually be able to pull this story off.
On a side note. The comics are going well. I've already drawn up 6 strips and I just have to find time to ink them over and scan them in. And then hopefully there will be no technical difficulties posting them here.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
New Media
Lately I've caught the bug to branch out into a new field of creative writing. My school has a paper that encourages students to send in comic strips whenever they feel like it. So over my four week break between semesters I'm going to compile a comic strip. I already have basic story lines and strip ideas. When I have access to a computer scanner, I'll post my comic for your enjoyment.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Creative Famine is Over!!! And new goals
Here's a poem I made up in English class. It's almost like a haiku.
Time is fleeting
And flies even faster
From grasping hands
Begging it to stay.
Stew on that one for a second. Maybe I should concentrate on poetry while in college. They're short sweet and easy. Hmmmmm.
PS: I've decided to not worry about publishing anymore. In the spirit of Emily Dickinson I write for myself, and maybe my family members who do read this blog. If I'm discovered, I'm discovered, if not I still have a place where I can release my pent up writers energy and enjoy the good hormones that come from it.
Time is fleeting
And flies even faster
From grasping hands
Begging it to stay.
Stew on that one for a second. Maybe I should concentrate on poetry while in college. They're short sweet and easy. Hmmmmm.
PS: I've decided to not worry about publishing anymore. In the spirit of Emily Dickinson I write for myself, and maybe my family members who do read this blog. If I'm discovered, I'm discovered, if not I still have a place where I can release my pent up writers energy and enjoy the good hormones that come from it.
Did you hear the buzz?
I have come to the conclusion college is not a good creative environment for me. That or the stresses that naturally come to youth of my age are jamming my creative circuits. I've also rediscovered how much my childhood friends would act as my muses. I was having a conversation with such a friend the other night, while simultaneously coming up with a story brain storm on a completely different subject after months of drought writing.
It felt good to feel the buzz again. Creating a fresh story line is like drinking from a mountain spring.
So, with this practice story I'm going to try something new. It's going to have several inter-lapping stories and characters that center around an event. So I should be able to complete small pieces of it at time, something that could be do-able with a college schedule. And since it's a practice story, I think I'll be posting bits and pieces of it on here. Never the whole thing, that's just stupid to do online. But maybe a summary, actual story, summary type of format. I'll ask my knowledgeable brother-in-law and see what he says.
It felt good to feel the buzz again. Creating a fresh story line is like drinking from a mountain spring.
So, with this practice story I'm going to try something new. It's going to have several inter-lapping stories and characters that center around an event. So I should be able to complete small pieces of it at time, something that could be do-able with a college schedule. And since it's a practice story, I think I'll be posting bits and pieces of it on here. Never the whole thing, that's just stupid to do online. But maybe a summary, actual story, summary type of format. I'll ask my knowledgeable brother-in-law and see what he says.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Treasure Hunt
Last night I watched Mr. Magoriums Wonder Emporium. A brilliant movie full of child-like wonder and a great cast. The plot was just a little bit off, but still really good.
The movie reminded me of a another reason why I want to write. I never have to grow up through my writing. I can be whatever age I want to be from 7-70. Writing is just an extension of pretend games I used to play as a child. And I've always been rather stubborn about this whole growing up nonsense anyway. Growing up is such a hassle.
The movie also reminded me of a book idea I had had a few years back. I went my files and found some chapter ideas, scenes, and notes on it. It's a wonderful story about how powerful a child's imagination can be. Its full of friendship, adventure, suspense, and maybe a romantic twist. (that has yet to be decided) The over all message was that imagination is essential to child-hood development, inventions, crafts, and over all adult happiness. Never, never, ever try to squash someones imaginations or dreams. It's those dreams that shape everyone's futures. We wouldn't have light-bulbs without them.
I think I might try and finish this story idea along side revising my other story. It was always meant to be a short story and the plot isn't very complicated. Hmmm, maybe I should switch my goal to publishing two books this year? Naw, but hopefully at least one of them does get published.
The movie reminded me of a another reason why I want to write. I never have to grow up through my writing. I can be whatever age I want to be from 7-70. Writing is just an extension of pretend games I used to play as a child. And I've always been rather stubborn about this whole growing up nonsense anyway. Growing up is such a hassle.
The movie also reminded me of a book idea I had had a few years back. I went my files and found some chapter ideas, scenes, and notes on it. It's a wonderful story about how powerful a child's imagination can be. Its full of friendship, adventure, suspense, and maybe a romantic twist. (that has yet to be decided) The over all message was that imagination is essential to child-hood development, inventions, crafts, and over all adult happiness. Never, never, ever try to squash someones imaginations or dreams. It's those dreams that shape everyone's futures. We wouldn't have light-bulbs without them.
I think I might try and finish this story idea along side revising my other story. It was always meant to be a short story and the plot isn't very complicated. Hmmm, maybe I should switch my goal to publishing two books this year? Naw, but hopefully at least one of them does get published.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Why money? Couldn't it have been cake?
A long time ago in Northern Europe those with literary, vocal, and instrumental talents were the leaders of the community. We've all heard of the Vikings and their natures. What underscored their violent epic deeds was that if an artist were to put them to song they would, in a sense, become immortal. Such was the power of artists in the old days. A warrior's eternal existence depended on them.
It's kind of ironic to know that and then look at the life of an average artist today. Many are scrapping just to pay the bills and are looked down upon by other "more intellectually inclined" professions. In other words, being an artist rarely pays.
On that note, I am announcing a change in my college plans. Reluctantly, I am letting the English-creative writing major go. Instead, I'm looking at an Exercise Physiology major so that I can become a physical therapist and pay the bills. It's not so bad. I love working with people, I have a growing passion for personal health, and it would be a steady well paying job.
It's just that my dreams to become a novelist seem to keep being pushed to the back burner for some reason or another. I may never actually publish, but I know there is a reason I was given the gift of writing and creating new ideas. I just need to be patient and eventually find it out.
I'm not totally giving up either. I still intend to attempt to publish before the year is out. I'm going to minor in English so I can still take the classes I need to improve my skills. Actually, they're clusters (two clusters = a minor) one in creative writing the other in professional writing. Professional writing will boost my major and creative writing will still give me what I went to college for in the first place.
Wish me luck. A lot of it.
It's kind of ironic to know that and then look at the life of an average artist today. Many are scrapping just to pay the bills and are looked down upon by other "more intellectually inclined" professions. In other words, being an artist rarely pays.
On that note, I am announcing a change in my college plans. Reluctantly, I am letting the English-creative writing major go. Instead, I'm looking at an Exercise Physiology major so that I can become a physical therapist and pay the bills. It's not so bad. I love working with people, I have a growing passion for personal health, and it would be a steady well paying job.
It's just that my dreams to become a novelist seem to keep being pushed to the back burner for some reason or another. I may never actually publish, but I know there is a reason I was given the gift of writing and creating new ideas. I just need to be patient and eventually find it out.
I'm not totally giving up either. I still intend to attempt to publish before the year is out. I'm going to minor in English so I can still take the classes I need to improve my skills. Actually, they're clusters (two clusters = a minor) one in creative writing the other in professional writing. Professional writing will boost my major and creative writing will still give me what I went to college for in the first place.
Wish me luck. A lot of it.
Monday, January 25, 2010
I love my brother-in-law!
He's a writer too. And he's got enough skills to help me edit my manuscript into something magical. But like any worthwhile journey, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses. I am now fully prepared for tears and trauma. Bring it M!
I can take anything now, because I just finished putting in his corrections for my first chapter. My thought pattern was like this,
"You gotta be kidding me, I messed up this much?"
"He's picking on me!"
"Well, I guess that correction makes sense."
"Fine! I'll put it in and if it doesn't sound good when I read through later, it's gone."
After that much trauma, I think I'm even ready to take a few rejections from publishing companies.
The plus side? The chapter I thought was already amazing is now completely AWESOME!!! So, I think it's ok to trust him. Just a little. Thanks M!
I can take anything now, because I just finished putting in his corrections for my first chapter. My thought pattern was like this,
"You gotta be kidding me, I messed up this much?"
"He's picking on me!"
"Well, I guess that correction makes sense."
"Fine! I'll put it in and if it doesn't sound good when I read through later, it's gone."
After that much trauma, I think I'm even ready to take a few rejections from publishing companies.
The plus side? The chapter I thought was already amazing is now completely AWESOME!!! So, I think it's ok to trust him. Just a little. Thanks M!
Discouraged
So the people from demand studios denied my application. Oh well. The idea has made me think of branching out into the freelance field anyway. Maybe they'll accept me later?
In other news I'm a little discouraged. Writers tend to be the hardest on their own work as far as how "good" it is. For me, I get periods of, "The whole plot is stupid" and loose the drive to write. But I'm not giving up. I'm going to do just as D told me. Read others experiences and hopefully be able to pick myself back up.
Writing is not an easy field. Far from it. Word smiths have to work hard to find the clearest most interesting combination of words to give their readers the best experience. That said. I apologize for the last couple of posts that didn't ring clear in the readers ear. Even in a blog, I should make every word count. It's hard, but the results are worth it. And the writing buzz is intoxicating. I just can't stop! I still have eleven months before my personal deadline. Wish me luck!
In other news I'm a little discouraged. Writers tend to be the hardest on their own work as far as how "good" it is. For me, I get periods of, "The whole plot is stupid" and loose the drive to write. But I'm not giving up. I'm going to do just as D told me. Read others experiences and hopefully be able to pick myself back up.
Writing is not an easy field. Far from it. Word smiths have to work hard to find the clearest most interesting combination of words to give their readers the best experience. That said. I apologize for the last couple of posts that didn't ring clear in the readers ear. Even in a blog, I should make every word count. It's hard, but the results are worth it. And the writing buzz is intoxicating. I just can't stop! I still have eleven months before my personal deadline. Wish me luck!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Yeah for Jobs!
I applied for a freelance job online at demandstudios.com. A friend told me it was a good way to build a portfolio and gain experience. I'm a little apprehensive. From what he said, it sounded too good to be true. You know the saying, "if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is." But I'm going to give it a shot. And if I'm hired, I could start building a much needed published portfolio and an experience log. I could also earn some money to help pay for school. Still, I have those, "between application and hire or de-nire" misgivings.
Right now, I feel like a teenager applying for a credit card. You remember those days? No one would give you a card, because you had no credit. But you had no credit, because no one would give you a card. I'm hoping that this won't turn out to be the same thing, only instead of credit, its the number of published works.
My current "portfolio" is made up of saved documents from college assignments. But I hope to add to it by publishing my book, some articles, and whatever else strikes my creative fancy. I already want to sign up for the class that's in charge of the school newspaper. That way if demand studios doesn't hire me, I can start building a portfolio anyway and maybe apply again later.
Wish me luck!
Right now, I feel like a teenager applying for a credit card. You remember those days? No one would give you a card, because you had no credit. But you had no credit, because no one would give you a card. I'm hoping that this won't turn out to be the same thing, only instead of credit, its the number of published works.
My current "portfolio" is made up of saved documents from college assignments. But I hope to add to it by publishing my book, some articles, and whatever else strikes my creative fancy. I already want to sign up for the class that's in charge of the school newspaper. That way if demand studios doesn't hire me, I can start building a portfolio anyway and maybe apply again later.
Wish me luck!
Thank You M
So this last weekend has been rough. I enlisted my brother-in-law, M, to help me edit my book. He had offered to do something similar at the beginning of the year for an e-mail version of a writing group. He's a writer too.
This was before I had done the second and the third drafts so I sent him the rough copy to look at. Naively thinking that it was already mostly perfect and that I wouldn't have to change much. But the cyber writing group never took off. Life and school took over again, and the corrected document was left floating in my e-mail for months.
This week I remembered it, and decided to take a look at what he had sent back. I've heard that writers are usually blind to their mistakes, but this is ridiculous. You'd think after so much time and effort that I'd maybe get just a few comments. Nope. The second page was blanketed in red correction boxes. Mostly for commas.
It just goes to show that four years ago I wasn't ready to be publishing anything just yet. But I am convinced that I'm ready now. Which is why I have asked him to look at it again. This time, I hope its a better version than the one he originally had to suffer through. Having gone through the book myself almost twice knowing what I know now, I feel his pain.
This was before I had done the second and the third drafts so I sent him the rough copy to look at. Naively thinking that it was already mostly perfect and that I wouldn't have to change much. But the cyber writing group never took off. Life and school took over again, and the corrected document was left floating in my e-mail for months.
This week I remembered it, and decided to take a look at what he had sent back. I've heard that writers are usually blind to their mistakes, but this is ridiculous. You'd think after so much time and effort that I'd maybe get just a few comments. Nope. The second page was blanketed in red correction boxes. Mostly for commas.
It just goes to show that four years ago I wasn't ready to be publishing anything just yet. But I am convinced that I'm ready now. Which is why I have asked him to look at it again. This time, I hope its a better version than the one he originally had to suffer through. Having gone through the book myself almost twice knowing what I know now, I feel his pain.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Fact: - Writing does not pay the bills. Even on average.
This evening I considered a question I probably should have thought about when I was first banking my hopes on this career path.
What does it pay?
Before, I could care less. I enjoy writing, it is my passion, I don't want to do anything else, hopefully I'd be a stay-at-home mom yadda yadda yadda. But I'm older and wiser now and I do know that living costs a lot at best. And the Lord isn't just going to toss me prince charming with his perfect pay check at the exact right time I want to move out of the house for good. Besides, marriage is a goal that I want to wait for a while. I want to try living truly on my own first. (with a dog...maybe)
So what is the average advance for a writer?
I stole this from another blog,(http://justinelarbalestier.com/blog/2004/12/24/average-first-novel-advances/) while researching this question. The guy is also an author and his article is... informative.
Here's the breakdown.
"1962: $1,000
1965: $3,000
1970: $10,000
1976: $700
1982: $7,500
1984: $7,500
1985: $2,500, $8,000
1989: $3,000
1990: $15,000
1995: $4,000
1996: $4,000
1997: $7,500
1999: $2,500
2002: $6,500
2003: $13,500
2004: $350, $10,000
Average advance: $5,920"
But this is all relative to how much the publisher thinks they can sell, your agent, the economy, and how tightly you can hold on to your royalties. In one part of the article he mentions that for 7.5% of the shares you can get $1.50 from each $20 book sold. Does that sound like it pays the bills? Especially if your book is a washout? (one of my biggest fears as a first time novelist is being a complete failure, I wont' quit, but it'll still hurt my pride) You don't even get a penny until the advance is paid up. Like a bad loan, only the writer is the one who makes off with the check.
Bottom line. Very, very few people can live off their writings. I'm going to have to work and study harder and pray that I become one of them. At least in the bottom margarine of those who do. I don't ask for much in life. I dont' even have an ipod. For now all I want to pay for is school, and maybe (if they really like my book and I get a descent advance) be able to start a mortgage account. That's a realistic goal for a first book don't you think?
What does it pay?
Before, I could care less. I enjoy writing, it is my passion, I don't want to do anything else, hopefully I'd be a stay-at-home mom yadda yadda yadda. But I'm older and wiser now and I do know that living costs a lot at best. And the Lord isn't just going to toss me prince charming with his perfect pay check at the exact right time I want to move out of the house for good. Besides, marriage is a goal that I want to wait for a while. I want to try living truly on my own first. (with a dog...maybe)
So what is the average advance for a writer?
I stole this from another blog,(http://justinelarbalestier.com/blog/2004/12/24/average-first-novel-advances/) while researching this question. The guy is also an author and his article is... informative.
Here's the breakdown.
"1962: $1,000
1965: $3,000
1970: $10,000
1976: $700
1982: $7,500
1984: $7,500
1985: $2,500, $8,000
1989: $3,000
1990: $15,000
1995: $4,000
1996: $4,000
1997: $7,500
1999: $2,500
2002: $6,500
2003: $13,500
2004: $350, $10,000
Average advance: $5,920"
But this is all relative to how much the publisher thinks they can sell, your agent, the economy, and how tightly you can hold on to your royalties. In one part of the article he mentions that for 7.5% of the shares you can get $1.50 from each $20 book sold. Does that sound like it pays the bills? Especially if your book is a washout? (one of my biggest fears as a first time novelist is being a complete failure, I wont' quit, but it'll still hurt my pride) You don't even get a penny until the advance is paid up. Like a bad loan, only the writer is the one who makes off with the check.
Bottom line. Very, very few people can live off their writings. I'm going to have to work and study harder and pray that I become one of them. At least in the bottom margarine of those who do. I don't ask for much in life. I dont' even have an ipod. For now all I want to pay for is school, and maybe (if they really like my book and I get a descent advance) be able to start a mortgage account. That's a realistic goal for a first book don't you think?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Revisions, revisions, revisions...I could hang myself with a rope made of revisions.
Not surprising really. Since I made the original manuscript when I was sixteen and have rarely touched it since. I'm still convinced that it's a good story plot with excitement and a clear message. It's the execution that needs work. The stuff that demands readers to journey to the last page.
The problem comes from me settling into a coma-like state while I'm writing. Everything makes sense from a dreamlike standpoint. But to someone who's awake and alert and wants an adventure. I might as well give them a pillow and some NyQuil.
The good news is that I've found an antidote to my sleep writing. Don't work on any chapter or scene for more than an hour. This trick keeps me on my toes and my brain awake to the position and logic of the plot. It still needs a lot of work. But I'm convinced that I'll have a publishable work by the end of January, if not February.
I still need to fix some overall problems I noticed from creating my second draft. So I'll be hoping chapters for the next couple of weeks. Then I'll go through for a third-draft and hopefully by then (cross-fingers) it'll be almost ready for an editor to help me make it perfect.
The problem comes from me settling into a coma-like state while I'm writing. Everything makes sense from a dreamlike standpoint. But to someone who's awake and alert and wants an adventure. I might as well give them a pillow and some NyQuil.
The good news is that I've found an antidote to my sleep writing. Don't work on any chapter or scene for more than an hour. This trick keeps me on my toes and my brain awake to the position and logic of the plot. It still needs a lot of work. But I'm convinced that I'll have a publishable work by the end of January, if not February.
I still need to fix some overall problems I noticed from creating my second draft. So I'll be hoping chapters for the next couple of weeks. Then I'll go through for a third-draft and hopefully by then (cross-fingers) it'll be almost ready for an editor to help me make it perfect.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Life is meant for learning
Between learning how to improve my writing and how the publishing system works. I am also learning a few other basic facts of life.
1. No one became healthy by eating tasteless foods.
2. And not everything is cured by Windex.
Yes, as part of my personal "Find the Best Me" attitude I have this new year I am learning how to cook healthy foods and exercise on a regular basis. To be honest, the learning how to cook is the best part. Just like word smiths find the best combination of words to give others the best experience; cooks find the best combination of ingredients to make everyone at every meal say, "YUM!" Thinking up different recipes and spices is really fun.
But, like other humans, I have also been fighting a cold for the last week. No fun! The good news is that I've reviewed several chapters since I've been stuck on bed rest. This quest to become more educated, healthier, and generally more cheerful is going to be full of bumps in the road. I can feel it. And I can't wait! Bring on the adventure!
1. No one became healthy by eating tasteless foods.
2. And not everything is cured by Windex.
Yes, as part of my personal "Find the Best Me" attitude I have this new year I am learning how to cook healthy foods and exercise on a regular basis. To be honest, the learning how to cook is the best part. Just like word smiths find the best combination of words to give others the best experience; cooks find the best combination of ingredients to make everyone at every meal say, "YUM!" Thinking up different recipes and spices is really fun.
But, like other humans, I have also been fighting a cold for the last week. No fun! The good news is that I've reviewed several chapters since I've been stuck on bed rest. This quest to become more educated, healthier, and generally more cheerful is going to be full of bumps in the road. I can feel it. And I can't wait! Bring on the adventure!
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