Today is a Tuesday and music drums against my ear as I stare blankly at the computer screen, then a smile slowly spreads across my face. I am going to make the best out of today. I am 23 now and I am trying to act my age. How does a 23 year old act? That is the first mystery to solve. I love solving mysteries almost as much as I love surprises. I don't love class though, and that is where I am heading but a 23 year old does things she doesn't always like with a smile on her face. My feet are cold so I pull on some socks. The sun is out and I ate yogurt for breakfast after working out. I am thinking of you.

please load a new emotion and hit enter

hello my darlings. Much has happened, but I feel as if nothing has happened at all. That's becuase I live in a place where nothing changes, only the weather. Will I stay me forever, then? I think not. People can't help but change; they evolve, shift, adapt....curb thier responses depending on who is listening. And silence has a sound. It hums. I yawn slowly, glancing around for the soft beige fur of the dog. There he is. I sit back. I can hear a question in your voice, but I am too tired to answer and so I change the subject. There is a hail storm in a town nearby - I know this becuase the online newspaper told me about it. My mom said something this morning, but I can remember what. probabaly that there was a storm in a town nearby. IT all sounded very familiar when I read it online. Things of interest: I am painting tomorow I don't like painted garage doors I'm afraid of walking in the dark alone I love sunrises I can listen to the same song many times I have decided to create daily goals tomorrow's goal: To not say anything negative. I will blog about how it went.

I'm sleepy/ I'm exhuasted/ I can't keep my eyes open/ I need a nap - pick one of those and then apply it to me. I'm going to blame it on the strange weather, and not the insane amount of work I have been forcing upon myself. It makes me seem somehow sane Today I: updated my blogs drew for my blog paid for my phone made a fruit smoothy drank said fruit smoothy facebooked worked listened to music chated with as many people as I could find online sat in the sun took a ten minute nap put on my makeup bought flowers for my brother and sister-in-law and started a blogging revolution

well my fantastic friendlies how have you all been? My hair is getting long and it feels strange on my back so I keep grabbing at it and pulling at it and twisting it and throwing it back. I have a hair appointment on Saturday and I can feel the strands quivering. "Don't cut me!" they scream in tiny high pitched vibrato. Don't worry my pretties, I won't cut you too much. I don't think that is much comfort to them. It is strange being in this place I work when it is dark and everyone else has gone home. I watch cars go in and out but the lobby remains silent. I'm feeling bored. A man in a yellow shirt just walked through, as if to prove me wrong. " Just getting something out of Roger's helicopter," he drawls, then walks out the back door. I try to sound acknowleding. "Ok" I call to his departing form. My mom and I went to the lake yesterday and ate a picnic I put together. There is something about lying sprawled out in the sun and feeling your body being rocked gently by the small waves underneath you. We vowed to go once a week, but I know we really won't. I ordered a dress from Modcloth the other day, using a giftcard my bestie gave to me in order to make my rival jealous. She's the best friend a girl could ask for. I am impatient for it to arrive, though.

It's a good day becuase...

My friend asked me why my day was good
the sun rose this morning, i had oatmeal for breakfast, noodles for lunch, i got a good nights sleep, i've got money in my wallet, my pencil is sharp, i slept on a bed last night, my chair isnt broken, my phone is paid for, a mom that gives me hugs and kisses, i gardened this morning, my room is clean, and i'm not color blind.

pandora

piano. I dream in piano. It's a pity I've never learned.
That and crossword puzzles. I never finish

drunken realizations

It all started with a rum and coke: not my usual choice, but I was feeling chic.A large yellow sign on the table read Happiness is a margarita. I couldnt resist, I needed a picture. I rumaged through my overlarge purse, pulling things out in the hunt for my camera. I took the shot, ate my food, sipped my rum and headed to the movies with my friend - laughs, giggles, inside jokes, candy then back to the car for our 1 A.M departure home. That's when I found out that my keys were not in my purse. I hunted tirelessly for them, panic insueing. "Hey let's check our pictures from chevy's and see if you put them down on my table." My friend's voice had a tinge of annoyance. We looked, and sure enough, there they were in the far left corner of the picture of the sign stating that happiness is a margarita. My friend takes me home, and I sleep, not worried becuase my worrier is broken.

I wake up early and make breakfast, musing over my options. I can call someone to take me to my keys and my car but I hate to cause inconvenience. I can wait til my mom gets home and use her car, but I can't be sure what time she will get home at. I could ride my bike...yeah that one sounds good. What? that's a long way to ride? Yeah but then I'll be self sufficient. No I don't have a problem relying on other people.

I halfheartedly call my sister to see if she's home: she's not. I load my bike and set off. The sun is warm against my skin. I huff and puff up long winding roads and gradual hills and past freeways and past ponds and past rivers. I get my keys and have to go back the way I came. I get to my car and unlock the door. I then pull out my water bottle and drink clumsily. A noise to my right. I look over and a guy is leaning out of his red sedan getting sick. I quickly get back to the task at hand: shoving my bike into the car. I push and pull and cajole and beg and twist and make noises. Nothing helps. I need to step back from the situation. The guy in the red car is back in his car but he just sits there, window open, staring straight ahead. That's it. I need to take the wheel off. I had never done that before but it wasn't too difficult. pop. I slide the bike into the car, close the door, and sit in my own car, windows up, air conditioner on. The guy and I are temporarily in sync with each other. I sigh and slowly pull out, driving home. 2:00 by the time I get home. I eat, dress, and arrive at work five minutes late. That's why I was late today, sir. It won't happen again.

today at work

I cleaned the coffee pots
just so you know
It seems that I have been working so much lately and at such an odd shift that I never get to see the people that mean the most to me. Luckily, I got to spend this morning with my mom. We went out to breakfast and went shopping, not the boring kind, the girly fun kind.
When I sit here at this hour, the sunlight slants against my face so i can't see

executive terminal

first the definition of a word we take for granted. :terminal-occurring at or forming the end of a series, succession, or the like; closing; concluding.
The door to my place of working says executive terminal. You tell me what that means.
As some of you know, I have met my new arch nemesis. What is life without an arch nemesis, the person that balances. What most people don't realize is that bad things must happen...hence an arch nemesis. It has been awhile since my last one. I am one of those annoying people that cringe at the very thought of being unliked. If confronted with this strange obstacle to my happiness, I am at a loss. Luckily, I have only had one before. She was in band with me and she challenged me for my second chair rights. Anyone whose every been in a band knows what a slap in the face this is. Anyone who hasn't been in band is free to mock/laugh/and or point in my general direction. Anyway, she didn't play the game like a gentlewoman becuase she completly bypassed challenging third chair. There are rules of etiquitte even in band. Especially in band. I played the song for an entire night until I could play it with my eyes closed. I played it way too fast, but I still won.
My new nemesis takes the cake.
Did you know that I get to sit next to a police radio at work and that I hear about every stabbing/siezure/disaster that happens in redding?
Ya.
In other news, check out this shark about to eat someone.

keep on the sunny side

Today was a day of smiles and light cascading through large open windows. Classes start soon and I just signed up for mine online, feeling a slight apprehension as i clicked the register button. 400 dollars for classes this semester and i still can't get my certificate until next semester.
I bought a plain white comforter from target the other day, planning of buying bright colorful pillows to accent it and now I am searching through my shopping sites for one I like.

Nix that idea...i've decided to just make a pillow cover myself. Now I'm on the hunt for some great fabric to do it with.

I used to wonder who did various jobs, like painting the colorful shell onto an M&M. Our society, alas, has turned to a machine driven world. It makes it less magical.

self examination

I have examined myself and found myself wanting

http://www.museumsyndicate.com/item.php?item=21771

sick

Being sick at work might be one of the worst things in the world. You try to hide your sickness behind plastic smiles and generic replies, "I'm fiiiine, how are you? Good." All the time you are watching the clock bidding it to go faster so you can get home and go to sleep.

"The miracle fruit, or sweet berries, is a very strange berry native to West Africa. What makes the fruit strange and miraculous, is miraculin (a sugar substitute), which is found in large quantities in the fruit, combined with a glycoprotein. The fruit itself does not contain a lot of sugar, and tastes only mildly sweet but when eaten, the glycoprotein binds to the tongues taste buds, which, for about an hour after eating the fruit, distorts any other taste into sweetness. With that effect you could technically eat a lemon, and it would taste like a ball of syrup. Although the definite reason for this occurrence is not fully understood, it would seem as if the miraculin distorts the shape of the sweetness receptors in the tongue so that they pick up on acid instead of sweetness. The sweetness receptors on your tongue then transmit to the brain to taste sweetness when they come in contact with any acidity. In the 70s attempts were made to commercialize and sell the fruit as a diet aid, as it has the potential to turn any meal sweet, without affecting your calorie intake. These attempts were shattered when the FDA declared it a food additive, due to pressure from sugar companies who could foresee big losses in profits. In the last two years the berries have been making a comeback, by being the guest star of many tasting parties in the states. The berries are dried and exported, and the party guests each have one and then taste all kinds of common foods to experience a new taste sensation with every bite."

http://listverse.com/2011/07/08/top-20-fruits-you-probably-dont-know/

night time ponderings

today I am pondering about flight - conquering gravity, in an ever present human desire to accomplish what seems to realistic minds as imposible. I wonder if some people see with eyes covered with math instead of eyes screened with color as mine are. Or if some people do not hear music everywhere, but hear the loudness and softness of noise instead. I think that every person views the world in a different way. Sometimes a person can be trained to see the world differently. A person who learns about art begins to see color as something that is blended instead of a solid color in its own right. Is it only a certain person that could have created a device to take humans into the air, or was it something that was inevitable? Am I making any sense today? I wonder

Ghibli

For all you Ghibli fans out there, a new movie is being released in Japan on July 16th.Here is the rather abrupt trailer for it. No word yet on if Disney is going to release an English version.

end of the day

today I:
bonded with work people
babied my cat
found a sewing class for $15 dollars
looked up a recipe for clam chowder
watched drunk people fall over on youtube
looked at clothes on modcloth (my favorite clothing site)
made a list but only got to number two
ate a hamburger
cleaned
made coffee
went on a bikeride
saw a baby snake
didn't get bit (though I should have)
watched the beginning of Hello Dolly
listened to Pandora
saw an f-18 land
answered a call and told someone that the airshow wasn't today even though an f-18 landed
and blogged about the things I did today

a busy plane day

I didn't bring anything to eat today and my stomach is grumbling uneasily. I glance through recipes looking for something easy to make tonight, and half heartedly wish for food to just appear on my desk. One of these days my wishes will come true. Disney says so.
"It's really hard to focus on anything while your hungry. It's almost like your brain switches into instinct mode and your eyes start darting around all crazy like. Drinking coffee didn't help," I muse to no one in particular.
It was too hot today. 101

22 Years later

While glancing through the various online articles in the Record Searchlight, I come across an interesting one. A month before I was born, A Mount Shasta man was accused of firing shots into a police station. He posted bail ($10,000) then took off and has been on the run for the past 22 years. That's my entire life time. He was recently found in Oregon. "It puts my life span into perspective," I muse to myself silently.

Pandora hums lightly in the background and the sunlight streaks through the windows casting light halway across my face. I twist in my chair to block it.

The summer is waning on and my life is beginning to take a clear path.

Airplanes

Now that I work around planes, my ears pick up on the buzz as they fly overhead. "Yesterday I saw a sky crane. Ya it was pretty cool. It's a giant plane but it's missing its middle. A big square emptiness sits where its stomach should." I settle onto my bed, swinging my legs and folding them into a pretzel like bow. "Earlier I was thinking of going shopping but I really don't need the temptation. I mean sure I'm earning money, but my instinct says - hey your poor you can't spend that. At the end of the month your going to be without just you watch - It's annoying." My voice gets flat. "Oh so this girl that I work with? Ya I just found out that she lives down the street from me. I've never seen her before in my life and she lives 5 houses down. It is a strange world." The clock ticks in reply and my cat saunters over, sniffing her now lifeless toy that's sprawled in the middle of my room. "I need to vacuum. I also need to find the cord to my camera so I can get the pictures onto my computer. I also need to eat and go for a bike ride. I am riding a mile a day." My voice lilts proudly. It's not that great of a feat, considering my sister runs more than five miles a day, but I'm really not one to compare myself to others. It is Thursday and it is my weekend. "I don't get another weekend for awhile so I'm going to appreciate it," I smile to myself. "I think I'd better be off for now."

New job

My new job has made my social networking dwindle to a small trickle. My hours switch back and forth, making me feel like I'm always working or thinking about work. It is very interesting though. It's a new world of information. I hear phrases like five aside and FBO and Delta Bravo.For those of you that don't know, I have started working at a aviation fueling station, better known as a FBO, or fixed based operator.

After the end of World War 1, 1918, aviation mostly consisted of transient fliers, going from city to city and offering plane rides and demonstrations to the people because civil aviation was mostly unregulated. They would have people bring over fuel in exchange for a free ticket to these events. Because of this, there was no need for established businesses.

That changed in 1926 because of the Air Commerce Act. Regulations were enforced and pilots began establishing their own businesses for fueling and mechanical needs of aircraft, creating the first FBOs.

Our FBO is contracted with CDF so when there is a fire, like there was today, tankers come and fuel.

My cat just came and jumped on my bed. Her body arches as her hands rhythmically knead the covers. Her purr softens as she turns to look at me and meow loudly, the command for pet me. When I continue and type on the lap top she crawls over, standing a leg on my arm and begins to lick my hand. I shove her away lightly and she jumps down from the bed and mews pathetically. cats.

One minute before ten

My new bed time is 9 o clock. The black imitation clock on my wall clicks a rhythmical 10. Late to bed again. Ah well. I found my camera cord tonight and the pictures are slowly loading onto my computer. That means nothing tonight. The theme f the night is old friends. Think on it.
Turnip purrs a hello.

Morning Glory

It's 7:45 on a Tuesday morning, but it doesn't feel that way. The sun beats down on a single abandoned soccer ball in the middle of the cul-de-sac, casting a long shadow. The birds chirp, soaring over the rooftops in a half hazard swoop. I am waiting for my curling iron to heat up.
Last night my friend Ian had a photo scavenger hunt. I was highly pleased with this idea, and so off I went to discover the results of such intrigue. We were the Shooting Stars, shooting the large overblown over colored movie star posters at Movies 8. From there we spanned a large part of the Redding area looking for things on our typed white list. Regret, a yellow submarine, a figurehead, the list was extensive. We scurried from place to place finding our items and were rewarded at the end of the night with pie and ice cream and laughs as our pictures were slide showed on the t.v.

Saturday Music Video

Really?

My mom just came with a plate of blueberry pancakes at 9:00 at night. I love her. Mothers are really amazing things
I saw a movie today. The theater was cool in the hot summer sun. We settled back into our seats as the lights dimmed, our eyes darting from image to image expectantly. The same old story and I've heard it all before. Boy meets girl. Boy goes after said girl but something gets in the way. We smiled and the sardonic remarks started to flow. But I started to think. It's natural to start to nitpick the seemingly stupid mistakes of the characters of stories. Some call it hindsight, but doesn't the character know that the bad guy is going to come and to jump off the freakin train?? And yet the hero stays and gets caught. We sigh and fidget at their stupidity. And yet what if the hero left at the first sign of trouble. "This guy looks like a villain, I better hightail it out of here" might be what we urge the hero to say, but if he did the story wouldn't continue. And what if the hero wasn't awkward. Would the lady fall for him then? Isn't his gawkiness and awkward behavior what humanizes him and draws the lady towards him? What if the two lovers had run away and hadn't stayed in a nearby hotel? Then they wouldn't have achieved the happily ever after they so yearned for, complete with elephant. I think the point is that the mistakes we make might actually lead us towards our happily ever afters. Think about it.

Ugh

That one girl, ya that one, well yesterday she reminded me that I hadn't blogged in, say, about three months. I waved my hand nonchalantly and said, "Dude, I'm going to write tonight." She told me I wouldn't. I didn't. Now I am. Last night was the country version of the Mosquito Serenade. You don't know what that is? Neither do half the people in my town even though it's been going on for over ten years. I was genuinely perplexed by the texts I received asking what it was. Anyway, how can I explain it....it's a live music event that happens every Wednesday by the river. People wore cowboy hats and were swing dancing. Like that. I tried to blend in but I don't think it worked very well....I'm not very cowboy. I don't even own a plaid shirt. It was nice regardless. I think it is impossible to take me to a live music event and to have me complain about anything* I brought three of my friends with me and we played Phase 10, which I am terrible at. Night well spent. 

Today there is smoke in the sky. It makes everything in the distance seem foggy, like a movie with bad graphics. A faint smokey smell drifts through the breeze, making me a little uneasy. Today is bowling. That one girl just said, "alright" which is code for we need to be going. Get off that chair and put some socks on. It's subtle and I try to ignore these codes, but it will be repeated in another couple of minutes.

I have forgotten what I said each day would be on this blog. I will have to search the archives and find out, or make up a new plan, or NEVER WRITE AGAIN. Ok, that wouldn't really happen. This thing is way too therapeutic. She completely left the room now so that really means, "stop blogging and put socks on." She's back putting her own socks on. Bowling~

* this excludes rap and loud rock music

spring cleaning

The time has come for the over used cliche of spring cleaning. Newspapers are publishing articles on it and people are talking about it like it's some sort of inert force; an instinctual drive that forces people to clean in the thawing warm afternoons of April. I -the ever faithful follower- am attempting to spring clean my life. I started on my room, then drifted around to the rest of the house. The rooms corridors of my brain are a lot harder to clean but I couldn't help myself. It reminds me of the movie I watched recently called Sunshine Cleaning.

" I mean because people don't realize the safety risks involved with the removal of - blood and body fluids."
 "I cannot imagine. You like it?"
"Yeah. I do. We come into people's lives when they have experienced something profound - and sad. And they've lost somebody, you know? And the circumstances, they're always different. But that's the same. And we help. In some small way we..we help."

The days I have missed

     Do you ever wonder about my secret life? The one you don't get to read about - the me that isn't encapsulated by this blog? What do I do when I am not sitting in a gray plastic chair with the eerie white glow of a patient and obediant screen reflecting off my face? Maybe nothing.
     I changed the background of my gmail to look like a desk. I wondered about it when I did it. It is not a desk, it is a screen. Should it look like a desk?
     I made you a promise to write again soon, and then I went missing for weeks. What you don't know is that I was kidnapped. It happened at work. I was sitting, bored, at the desk, balancing the punk rubber eraser, trying to make it stand, when a small hole appeared next to my foot. I glanced down at it , surprised and stared. The hole was black and round and intruiging. It started to grow. I rolled my chair back from the hole, wary of suddenly appearing things, an instinct I picked up in childhood. I've never met a thing that appeared suddenly that I liked. The hole continued to grow until my chair just sort of fell into it and it closed over my head. When I awoke, I was sitting at the desk, face planted against a stack of paperclips, my cheek a paperclip shaped mess. Several weeks had gone by. I wondered myself about the me that I had forgotten; about the things that I had done that I couldn't remember; a different me in a different world.



The next step

Hello Storm Troopers…..or whoever reads these…if anyone.

The morning is bright and I am alive. I find that the hungrier I am, the more alive I feel. I received a lovely professional looking certificate yesterday for a writing contest I had forgotten that I entered. It was on sustainability. I wrote about water: rivers and lakes and how they are not being cared for.  It seems there are many things that are not being cared for. But you know what they say – if something bothers you then do something about it. I’ve never been what they call an activist, but I believe that I am starting to feel the pull.

Homework – not done

Scholarship essay – not done

Daily journal – not done

Now that we are on the subject, though, I can explain what a daily journal is. You see, I find myself going through huge periods of time rather quickly and not remembering what has happened in all that time. Hence, my daily journal. I think that if I write what I’ve done every day, even if it’s short, I can look back and remember all the things that I have done in that year.

Brilliant, I know

I had the sudden image of white daisies and it is imprinted in my memory

New schedule:

Mondays – video clip

Tuesdays – blog

Wednesday – photography

Thursdays – hero analysis

Friday – Stick figure

Starts next week folks - don't miss the new stuff



Sunday day

I live in a small town nestled between tall mountains. I’ve lived here my entire life. It’s a beautiful place: a powerful river flows through the middle of the city, slicing through land like a knife through cheese. People flock to the river, building bridges across it, houses next to it and paths beside it – it’s the pulse of the land. I love the sound it makes and I love watching the sun set over it in pinks and oranges.

It’s the night before a hectic week. I look at the clock and realize that I could, under no circumstances, go to sleep at 8:31 p.m. I double click the blue internet explorer icon, listening to the click in my too quiet room. Facebook, gmail, blogspot….no updates. Rizzo, the Chihuahua, is nestled under the covers and my left leg is becoming too warm. I fidget. Maybe I should open the window. There was a strange large black dog in the back yard behind the fence today. I contort my body and open the window, but it doesn’t help.

I’m feeling strangely lonely tonight.

light

I like the glow of the light that falls from a lamp. I like the shadows it casts on the wall, long and elegant, like a woman’s fingers. I like the warmth that radiates from the bulb. I move my hand close and the air hums softly. I love that light always breaks through darkness no matter how dark. Click: darkness

Click: light

I had to wander the garage aimlessly in order to find another bookshelf to house the books that find refuge here. The books grow from the carpeting, the windows, the walls, the air. Three bookshelves line my walls filled with books of different colors and shapes and moods. I’m reading A Prayer For Owen Meany. OWEN ALWAYS TALKS IN ALL CAP LETTERS. HE IS VERY HONEST. I’m also reading the Bible from front to back the way it’s bound-the way I have it. It paints such beautiful scrawling vivid pictures with each word.

There are items in my room that still have no place. I shove them in a corner but I know by tomorrow everything will be sprayed across the carpeting. Maybe these things don’t really belong to me.

I locked my wallet in my box of filed papers today.

freedom

Just smell the grass! The dirt! Just like I dreamed they'd be!

Just feel that summer breeze - the way it's calling me

For like the first time ever, I'm completely free!

I could go running

And racing

And dancing

And chasing

And leaping

And bounding

Hair flying

Heart pounding

And splashing

And reeling

And finally feeling

Now's when my life begins!

Job interview

I feel like I'm lacking my adultness- stuck in a perpetual bubble of childhood. Trinkets, colors, imagination, daydreams (not bad things to have) but will I ever reach that maturity I hear tell of? I have an interview today.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/suspectshoppe