Lessons Learned

Tonight was so great. Really. So, so great. It was basically the first time I’ve gotten to spend time with more than two people in my family at a time, so it was, to quote a legend, pretty cool. On Friday I, unwillingly, went to see Tron: Legacy. Not that I didn’t want to see it, but that was supposed to be my Me-Mom-and-Dad dinner celebrating my epic return to the mothership. Instead I was dragged off  (literally) to the AMC Imax (a big shout-out to the Susanville cinema) at Tyler. Now, I wanted to see this movie (and I’m glad I did), but my fabulous dinner was cancelled. But it was still a blast… until I got sick, that is. Before, during and after the movie, I had the following foods: string cheese, Hershey’s kisses, brownies, kettle honey dijon chips, a bowl of cereal, a bunch of yogurt pretzels, eggs, bacon, pancakes and chicken. This was snacking, during the movie and the meal I split with my sister at IHOP. So all that food plus five glasses of lemonade at the restaurant. I think I was in this craze where all I had been accustomed to was Caf food and, BAM, food at my ready all-of-a-sudden. I was really sick that night after IHOP, needless to say. But my Mommy made me ginger tea to help me feel better. (:

I’ve been more cautious about my nutrition since that incident.

And I went Christmas shopping and have kind of vegged the past few days, and I even spent my first day home with my sister (which was a welcome surprise). It’s been heavenly, I must say.

Tonight, like I said, was pretty great. My Mom and I made peanut butter (gross) rice crispy treats. Afterwards, Brad (my sister’s… boyfriend - more on that when I can elaborate *wink wink at Becca*), Mom and Ashley played a game called Phase 10. Here I will list quotes/brief summaries of the highlights:

• I fed my sister’s dog, Toby, some of our chips. After I stopped feeding him he started crying to me and barking. When he doesn’t get his way, for attention he goes and hides himself in our bathtub and cries till someone gets him. No one ever does. So I gave a chip to Sam, Ashley’s other dog, and Toby heard. He was out of that tub like lightning… I guess you had to be here.
  
• Our cat, affectionately called ‘Bizz-Bizz’, sat on our nativity scene staring at porcelain baby Jesus for two hours. I wonder if she even blinked
  
  
• Ashley (referring to my green tea): How can you drink that stuff, Courtney? It’s gross.
  Me: Well, I think Brad’s gross - how can you date him?
  Brad: You know, that’s a good point.
  
  He wasn’t kidding…

• Speaking of Brad gems… he hid my sister’s Christmas present IN HER OWN BOX. So, she has this box sitting in her room that belonged to one of her Disney figurines. She went to clean up the box and put it in our attic and noticed that the Styrofoam was out of the box, next to it. She opens the box to put the Styrofoam in and in the box is her Christmas present. In. Her. Box. Brad thought this was clever, so we can’t tell him we know. So. Great.
  
• Eric-a and I decided to show my Mom, who is from Canada, The Biebs. She didn’t know about him and I had been telling her about J’s ringtones and the dreams and… well, you know that already. So we showed her the first half of his “Baby” music video. All she said after was this:
  
  “Does his babysitter know he’s doing this?” 

And a bunch of other great stuff, but I’m very tired at the moment. Hopefully more Yule and good tiding blogs to come. I’m going to snag some video of our decorations and put it on FB. Ah, I love Christmas.

Thanks a million, Jesus.

Toodle Pip.

Tight Rope

I really think that I should be doing what I’m supposed to be doing: homework and studying. Instead, I’m blogging. Sort of. Just some words and that’s it - nothing really.

This week already has tried and tested my patience, endurance and focus. I know it’s easy to say that it’s only finals week, but it really (for me at least) urges me to reflect upon my semester - good things, bad things, other things. Looking back, my feelings on this semester are pretty mixed. There were high points, but also a lot of low points. This might sound bad, but I think it taught me that I’m ready to leave. But, then again, it taught me that I’m not. I’m hardly ready to be thrust upon the ‘real’ world, but I just really want to be home. I pray for God’s will, because I am, above all, confused. Some days I can’t imagine leaving, and some days I just can’t breathe here.

Well, next semester may (or may not) be my last, so we’ll see.

Like my new layout? The other one was too… er… pink.
Well.

Toodle Pip.

My Brand New Nervous Break-Down

A new blog layout. I has one. I hope you has a like. I don’t know myself, yet. It’s… new, so we’ll see. Uh, wish I had more time to blog, but, really, I don’t. I’m swamped, have bitten off way more than I can chew. My left eye is twitching and three of my toes are numb. Heavens! I just pray that I can finish everything before I go bald. Or have a nervous break down. Trust me, I’m close to both.




Toodle Pip.

Baby, Baby, Baby

Do you every think how strange it is how things just don’t seem to change?

That you could be gone for months, totally removed from your family physically (for those too far to commute on weekends), and when you return all’s the same? You know, last year I didn’t seem to notice this. I was too bright-eyed with my first year of college and excited to be home to just sit and observe my family. But the past two days I’ve done just that. Sat, read and done very uneventful events while taking the time to just look and think about them. It has been too busy for them to simply drop everything and adore my presence. But again: this has given me time to note that they can function without me. Not to be too dismal - that’s really not where this is going - but it is just a strange feeling to know that life could go on without you. Not to say that I’m not wholly loved by my family. What I mean to say is that if I moved somewhere far away forever, it would be a sad but not a life-altering affair. They would miss me, write to me and always love me, but it would not stop them from living.

This is a bit more elaborate than what I had thought to actually say. It goes back to that age-old mystery about death. To know that when I die I will eventually be forgotten frightens me a little more than the dying itself.

I almost wish the world would stop spinning with me.

Geez, this is kind of a downer. I promise this isn’t intended to be so. I was actually just thinking about it yesterday at Thanksgiving dinner when we were talking about my grandfather who passed away four years ago. When he died, I didn’t think my mother would ever smile again. It was really hard to see other people like that. And I knew, just knew, that my mom would never be happy ever again. But the curious thing is that she is. She still misses and loves her father, but she’s done what was necessary to trudge on. She’s happy. And that brings me to my brighter observation:

That humans have the ability to reconcile the saddest things within themselves. Now, not all people do come to terms, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t possible. Strings tighten and loosen every day, and the world always turns regardless. I think that’s wonderful, to be part of something that is constantly in motion. A world that is constantly crying and constantly laughing and growing.

So, while I noticed this most interesting turn of events, I also noticed how much my family loves me. I’d be sad if they really needed me - it’s almost an honor to be wanted rather than needed. And this ends my ridiculous attempt at philosophy. Which was unintended and rather silly.

On another note:

We need to talk, friends and peers of mine.

I’m glad you all think that calling me five times from Westwood, California after the trauma I endured at the hands of an unwitting cell phone last week is hilarious. It’s great. Really.

To those of the uninformed, one of my very sweet roommates (who I’m positive does this innocuously) uses her cell phone as an alarm. For the past two or three days before leaving for this break, her cell phone would stir me at early hours in the morning playing… Yes, that’s right… “Baby” by Justin Bieber. And she, unfortunately, lacked the knowledge to set her snooze for an hour. So instead that song would sound off every ten minutes for at least one hour every morning. Once it played twice straight while she was in the bathroom. And the last day before break she had to leave at five in the morning, so, of course, I was greeted by The Biebs at four thirty in the morning. Over and over again.

And if this wasn’t bad enough, being half-asleep, half-awake, I began have dreams starring J Biebs. Yeah. Great. The last night, with the four thirty and the morning and the grumpiness, I had a complete dream with him in it. He came to Simpson and convinced me he could sing really well, that he was in fact twenty and was misunderstood and not a troll at all. VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE!

So, yes, those of you from Westwood who called me singing this song FIVE TIMES AND THEN HANGING UP know who you are. And, well… I know where to find you.

Toodle Pip.

How to Find a Man, A Book Written By Complete Idiots

What has happened to our world? WHAT? WHAT? Yes, it is called Elixir (or, as the cover states, elixir). By Hilary Duff - yes, that Hilary Duff. You know that world is a dark, scary place when a book written by Lizzie McGuire is a NEWYORK TIMES BEST SELLER! What? WHAT? And, what’s worse, when I went in search of affirmation that the world is not chalk-full of dingbats (aka, seeking professional reviews), I was not affirmed. At. All. GOOD REVIEWS! ALL OF THEM! I search for reputable sources, but found few. I did found this tidbit from The New York Post, though: “It has everything: romance and the supernatural; a globe-trotting Hillary Clinton-esque mom; characters with names like Sage and Clea...and a shout-out to Page-Six!” And here is a snippet from yet another favorable review: “Hilary Duff has given paranormal a whole new spin. Elixir has a fresh voice, great plot twists and an ending that left me wanting the next book in the series. Though I couldn't get into the beginning of the book like I wanted to, when the plot twists and the love triangle intensify with Clea, Sage and Ben, I was hooked and couldn't stop reading it. A powerful centuries old secret reveals some character twists, uncovers a great mythology and makes for a fascinating plot.” What? WHAT?

In all of my seeking out professional and customer reviews alike, I only found a couple of unfavorable reviews. Rather than spit the plot out to you (and since most of the people who actually read my blog were there for Becca’s interpretive reading of this mind-numbing swill), I’ll post two different reviews. One is a logical, thoughtful review that is actually better written than the book. The second is entertaining and attacks the book on a personal level.

1. A review by E.A Solinas @ Amazon

“Disclaimer: I have no real opinion on Hilary Duff. I haven't heard her music, and my only exposure to her movies was a two-minute cameo in Human Nature. Too bad her debut book is a lackluster limp lump of lifelessness. "Elixir" isn't a devastatingly bad paranormal romance, but it is crammed with cliches, clumsily written, and has a protagonist so Mary Suish that it burns.

After a vacation trip across Europe with her friend Rayna, Clea Weston discovers that a ageless hot guy has been stalking her across Europe. He's also in all photographs of/by her, and she's having dreams about past lives with him. And during an otherwise pointless trip to Rio, she finally encounters the man, who is named Sage.

Sage turns out to be connected to Clea's father, who has been presumed dead for months, and the Elixir of Life he was searching for. And after discovering her father's data on the Elixir (courtesy of REALLY IMPROBABLE GUESSES), she and her friends Ben and Rayna accompany Sage on a... very leisurely quest to discover the truth.

It feels like someone told Hilary Duff, "Paranormal romance is hot right now! Just write a plotless book with a bland heroine, sexy boys, and some supernatural stuff!", so she dashed off "Elixir" over the weekend. This is one of the blandest, most cliched paranormal romances I have ever read; it feels like it was made with Mad Libs.

Part of this is because Duff's writing is terrible -- her style is as bland as cold oatmeal, and it's full of leaden infodumps, repetition (Sage is always "magnetic!"), and cheesy descriptions that are trying to be poetic ("endless swirling mass of inky black nothingness"). And the dialogue will make you want to claw off your ears, especially when Duff tries to be romantic or funny ("Wow. He must spend a fortune on eBay").

To make matters more confusing, Duff stuffs the story with all sorts of confusing, inconsistent stuff about fate, and pads it with pointless scenes that add nothing (time to talk about cinnamon buns, sex and clothes!). Even worse, half the supernatural concepts in here like the reincarnation and the incubus/angel theory are TOTALLY NEGLECTED. They contribute nothing!

Finally, the ending is confusing, anticlimactic, and solves nothing... which means a sequel is probably is probably in the works.

Clea isn't as repulsive as many paranormal romance heroines... but she's still boring and immature. And even worse, she's a Mary Sue -- a wealthy yet humble girl who also happens to be a globetrotting teenage photojournalist. And a worldwide megacelebrity. AND a Krav Maga expert who becomes helpless at convenient times. Does she also sing like a nightingale and have rainbow hair?

Sage is basically a blank slate with "Mysterious Love Interest" stamped on his face, and Ben is just pushy and annoying. Almost all the other characters are devoid of personality, and even the antagonists -- who have the ridiculous name "Cursed Vengeance" -- are totally faceless.

"Elixir" is a paint-by-numbers paranormal romance, with no passion and not much of a plot. Hilary Duff, please stick to singing.”

2. A review by Morgan Leigh @ Amazon

“I'm warning you now. This is more of a rant than a cohesive, intelligent review. It will be filled with spoilers and un-ladylike language, so people of delicate sensibilities take heed.

I like Hilary Duff. I grew up with her in Lizzie Maguire, and even rocked the Lizzie hairstyle for a while. I think she has grown into a nice young starlet as opposed to, well, Lindsey Lohan.

I was curious about this book after seeing her name on it. I was interested. How much of it did Hilary actually write? Did she just tell Elise Allen "write about soulmates" and then go and get a manicure? Or did she come up with plot herself, with Elise Allen only writing it down on paper? I think, after reading it, that I know the answer. I believe this is how the conception of this book transpired:

Hilary's manager walks into Borders mistakenly, absolutely absorbed into keying things into his Blackberry. It is only when he walks into a table, toppling over a pile of books, that he looks up and acknowledges his surroundings. "Hey! This isn't Saks!" But then his eye is drawn to a picture of Lauren Conrad on the back of Sweet Little Lies. He smirks, because he has his suspicions how much of the book Lauren actually wrote. Surprisingly, he sees multiple teenagers in the check-out line with the book in hand. "Hmmpp", he thinks, "Hilary is ten times prettier and smarter and nicer than LC". Then a brilliant idea forms in his head. Hilary's name + YA book = new sports car. Excitedly, he gathers a copy of every YA book in the store and rushes back to the office to make some phone calls. "Hey, Hilary, babe....how would you like to write the ultimate YA book? "

Next time, Hilary, just say no.

This book infuriated me. How stupid do publishers think teens are? This is the same typical formula for every other YA paranormal book out there, except wrapped up in a different dress.

There was nothing special about it. No spark. The writing was dead and lifeless, as were all the characters. I was bored out of my mind with the predictability of it all when I wasn't in a rage of seething hot fury.

Clea Raymond, the narrator, is horrible. She has no personality, and nothing that distinguishes her from every other YA heroine out there. Her name is also too close to "Claire" for my liking, and those of you who've read my other rants know my reasoning for that. Clea is a stupid, vapid girl, who became absolutely insufferable after she discovered *ahem* tru wuv. That's right, folks, she has a soulmate. But don't be too jealous of her now. She also has the inexplicable burden of being caught in the middle of a love triangle. What would a YA book be without one of those? Of course, Clea had no idea her BFF Ben, had feelings for her until he started being a jealous prick. Clea, you give a bad name to women everywhere. We are girls. We always know. Platonic friends, my ass.

Of course, I could have forgiven the book for this. Love triangles are a staple because they create drama and act as filler. Except this one was so blatantly one-sided. We all know Clea lllllluuuuuurrrrvvvvessss Sage (her soulmate guy), who is also immortal. Clea herself is kind of immortal, but more on that later. I might be spoiling things a little here, but suck it up. I'm trying to save you here. Clea and Sage had known each other less than a week. At first, Clea thought he was a crazy stalker. Then she thought he was a serial killer deadset on sending her to the grave. Then all the sudden they were kissing, telling each other how much they loved each other, and having sex in a car. First off, if a guy (with the exception of Leonardo DiCaprio) lets you lose your virginity in car, he does not really love you. Second off, this guy has been around for 500 years. Do you know how many STDs he could have contracted in that time? I don't care if he's immortal. As my health teacher said, herpes can affect anybody. And lastly, WTF CLEA?!! You have known this guy one week and up until a few hours ago you thought he was going to kill you!!!!!!! WHY! And then of course, from then on, it causes her physical pain to be away from her Sagey-poo. Gag me.

I blame Clea's whore friend, Rayna. Rayna, as Clea describes her, is a "romantic" who finds a new "soulmate" everytime she leaves the house. There are words for those kinds of girls, so don't go beating around the bush. Anyway, Rayna gives Clea the poetic advice of "don't think, just feel" right before Clea goes off alone with Sage, the soulmate/stranger/serial killer. NO NO NO. Think first, Clea, think first!! Do you want to become a statistic? This book is all your fault, Rayna, and I hate you.

When everyone wasn't talking about soulmates, they were trying to figure out the mystery of where Clea's father disappeared to. Of course, the focus of the book turned to Sage as soon as he appeared. But anyway, the beginning was rather slow, but then everything happened like BAM!BAM!BAM!. Any information the reader found out was in clumps under circumstances that were too convenient for my liking. It was frustrating. A part I did enjoy was all of Clea's past lives, but those were clumped up and rushed. I think it would have been better to have them dispersed throughout the novel. The ending was also extremely abrupt with so many questions unanswered, I wanted to punch a baby at first. But then I realized the book was over, so then I felt happy again. Here are a list of my questions/complaints:

1. Does Clea not have to go to school? I'm not sure what time of the year this book is taking place, but Clea is still able to drop everything and go to South America or Japan whenever she feels like it. With only two boys for company.
2. Why do people in Japan know who Clea is? Since when is being a senator's daughter such a flippin' big deal that people on the other side of the world know who you are? I don't even know my Senators' names.
3. Why is Clea's mother so horrible? She just let's Clea have total independence. Want to go to Peru? Go ahead! Guam? Why not! Afghanistan? Be sure to bring lots of sunscreen! And you would think, her daughter apparently being such a big deal and all, she might have Clea assigned a body guard or something? Nope.
4. Why does Clea love Sage? He has no personality. She literally just decides she loves him. They didn't even have great chemistry.
5. Why are Clea and Ben immortal too? I understand Sage, somewhat, since he drank the elixir. But there is not explanation for Clea and Ben to have their souls being reborn again and again, and at random intervals.
6. What's a soul? I know what my definition of a soul is, but this book has me all confused. Why is Clea so talented in some lives, like being a singer, artist, or actress, but has no apparent talent in this life? Does a soul just mean you have the same personality (or lack of it)?
7. Why does Sage show up in Clea's pictures? Why is he sometimes floating and sometimes not? GAH NO SENSE
8. Is this the only time Clea is aware of her past lives?, or has she had the same dreams in her past?
9. Since Ben always seems to be the problem, why don't they just KILL HIM? There, problem solved. See you again in another hundred years.

I'm just so done with these crappy YA paranormals. They are all the same. My intelligence is being insulted.”


Those two summaries pretty much sum up everything I felt - and I only heard the first chapter. Trust me, it was enough. So, the point here I’m trying to make isn’t really about Hilary Duff (I mean, it kind of is, but it's not the over-arching problem) but really about where books like elixir are leading. I feel like we’re grooming our youth to appreciate lackluster literature, settle for less and look for sexiness, mystery and danger in a man. No. This bring me back to Hush, Hush - the message of these books is this:

How to Find a Man, A Book Written By Complete Idiots

Tip 1: Always look for some kind of paranormal qualities. Does he sparkle? Does he howl? Does he have mysterious marks or unexplained absences? Does he seem to know everything about you? Is he always staring at you from across the room like a stalker? Does he stalk you? Good. Does he secretly want to kill you? Does he watch you sleep? Even better. He’s a keeper, and make sure to get yourself into plenty of unintelligible danger so that you can confirm what breed of myth your hunky man is!

Tip 2: If, in the event, you lose your man or he disappears for a long period of time with no explanations (to protect you from himself), go to what we like to call “Hunk Plan B.” He’s only a substitute for when danger knocks on your doorstep again and your hunky supernatural man has no choice but to return to your clutches/come back from the dead. But that may take a few months to a year, so in the meantime keep yourself busy with Hunk B.

Tip 3: Don’t get too serious with Hunk B. Remember, above all, to remain oblivious. Don’t know what the word means? Just remember to keep it innocent. No overbearing makeup or revealing clothing. Keep your eyes wide and doe-like, your tragedy always out in the opening and always refuse to talk about Hunk A when he comes up in conversation (with a look of pain on your face, arms wrapped around yourself). If Hunk B wasn’t falling for you before, this will send him into a tizzy, guaranteed! But again, he’s only temporary.

Tip 4: Like mentioned above, don’t let Hunk B get half as far as Hunk A. Let him think he is stealing a kiss from you in a fit of rage. You know it’s coming, but act surprised (employ ‘doe eyes’ and ‘angry words’) so that he feels guilty for it in the following weeks. This will make you appear even more vulnerable and will set you up for a nice love-triangle when Hunk A returns. Of course Hunk A will win, but let Hunk B writhe in the deluded knowledge that he has a chance with a girl like you.

Tip 5: When Hunk A returns, don’t employ any of those tricks used with Hunk B. Just take him back like he didn’t just ditch you for months without even bothering to consult your intelligence first. You know, if you had any. Just throw your arms around him and go back to disregarding your friends, family and Hunk B. Well done, your supernatural man is back!

Tip 6: Doe eyes and ignorance will be your tools to a paranormal future. When you unwittingly become the source of conflict between Hunk A and B, a clan of supernatural baddies and even your instincts, keep your eyes wide and just stand there. Let Hunks A and B protect you. This road will lead you to a perilous future with Hunk A!

Tip 7: We cannot stress this enough: Don’t listen to your parents, friends or peers if they oppose your super fantastic relationship with your hunk vampire/werewolf/immortal/other mystical man. Especially if 99% of them are in opposition of your paranormal romance with paranormal hunk. What do they know? It’s not like your parents have your best interests at heart (or have lived longer), or that your friends actually care about you. And your peers are biased. They’re jealous - remember that. If everyone tells you to beat it because he’s “bad news”, a “stalker”, “creepy”, “dangerous” or “bad for you”, you’ve got a good one.

Tip 8: Age matters! The older the better! Before you get too serious with your hunk, you need to verify his true age. Sure, he may look seventeen, but beneath his swirling, soulful, dark, handsome eyes there are years of experience. How much? One saying we have here at How to Find a Man is: “Nothing under ninety-five!” Don’t be caught dead (haha!) with a man under four times your age. It’s not right - and we recommend starting at one hundred and twelve. Keep this in mind while choosing your eligible BF.

Tip 9: Having trouble with pesky Hunk B? Yes, we knew this would happen. He was a nice distraction while Hunk A was away, but now that he’s back, you don’t need B anymore. You want to cut him off, but you also want to retain your reputation among both hunks. The best way to do this is by implicating Hunk A in your place so that, rather than you, Hunk B will believe Hunk A is to blame for everything. And vice versa. There are several way to make this happen, but this is a definite favorite: have Hunk A transform you into whatever manner of supernatural he is through bite/drink/scratch/etc. That way you will be repulsive to Hunk B, who happens to be the werewolf to your man’s vampire, or the ghost to your man’s fallen angel, or whatever. But remember! Does eyes and innocence! Oh, the places you’ll go.

Tip 10: Now that you’ve got your man to “change” you, you’re stuck together forever. Congratulations! You’ve snagged your supernatural hunk. Unsure of what to do now? Well, for such conundrums as these, we have the following titles available for the supernatural heroine:

- How to Make Paranormal Babies, Part I
- How to Start a Devastating War, a Step-By-Step Guide on Batting Your Eyelashes
- How to Be Soul Mates Without Actually Having Souls
- Overcoming Vampire Regimes
- So, You and Your Man Ran Out of Elixir? A ‘What Now’ Guide
- Going Back to High School in Order to Maintain Your Anonymity? How to Cope
- How to Look After Those Pesky Fangs
- Werewolf Hair Care: An Annotated Collection
-And many, many more! See your local Borders for more guides By Complete Idiots!

And, really that’s all.

Toodle Pip.

The Indelible Courtney W

Sometimes I just think to myself how glad I am that I won’t be working in a lab someday. That I’ll be a dentist being a dentist, not running experiments somewhere to alter the world as we know it. I love biology, really I do, but I’m just not meant to be a laboratory biologist. At. All. And certainly not a chemist. It’s bad enough that my hands never seem to be steady, but I’m so very OBN about my movements and, in the lab, you need to be aware of yourself. Like, when you’re preparing a gel for electrophoresis (as we were today). If you don’t know, the gel looks a little something like this: That’s the lit up gel. Focus on those little wells.

I was first in class and no one else showed up until twenty minutes into lab time. Because of this, it was decided that I was going to have the misfortune privilege of handling the gel. So, as we start the experiment, Trent says: “Courtney, take the gel!” After telling me the box of ten gels costs 100 dollars. So, that’s 10 dollars a gel, and he hands me the gel. Me. Me. I think he saw my look of apprehension (heavens, I just knew this was a bad idea), because he looks at me and says: “It’s pretty hard to mess this up!”

Not even ten minutes later, guess what? Guess what?

Yes, I, Courtney, managed to mess up the gel. And don’t think I didn’t pray silently from the second he handed me that precious, apparently infallible gel. I have a special talent for defying the odds, I must say. I don’t even know what I did, but one minute the gel is perfect and the next the wells are collapsing in on themselves. With a toothpick, the gel was kinda of saved, but was still funny looking. And to this I must say: I could have told you. Don’t give me the gel again. I love lab, really I do, but I cannot handle the stress sometimes of getting everything correct, especially when there is an expensive gel involved. Again, you don’t want me in your laboratories curing your cancer or whatever.

I just realized how awful this sounds considering I do want to work as dentist, using very sharp specialized machinery in your mouth. OK, so I actually have no problem with this. I mean, I’ve never actually had much experience in this, but I feel confident in my ability to learn and adapt to the ways to the dentist. I’m just so excited and jazzed to learn - so maybe that confidence is the difference? OHOHOHO~ I can’t wait until dental school. I’m going to be one of those scary, evil dentists and frighten your children into adulthood!!!!!!! But, seriously. Don’t give me the gel again, please.

Oh, Thanksgiving is so soon! Learning a lot about tryptophan in bio right now. Can’t wait to dazzle my relations with my knowledge of tryptophan! TOHOOHOOHOOO!

All's gel that ends gel.

Toodle Pip.

Unicorns, Mermaids or Whatever

Last night while having trouble falling to sleep, I ran across this short list of sorts concerning characters and writing. It made me laugh a little; in fact, anyone who writes with any regularity (or has at some point) should know these things, because there‘s just no escaping them. In my reading quest this weekend, this especially called out to me regarding other people’s writing. I read the last in a series (The Study series) I was becoming attached to the series, until this last book. It was... well... uh... hmm... I did enjoy some parts, but others were just very… meh. Lackluster, you could say. The story still held me in some ways, but it bailed out in too many places and the protagonist and her love interest (two catawampus characters in their own rights) just fizzled out. Saving the very end of the first book, I liked the way their romance was handled. But then the second book came along and then third. Eventually, their affairs began to make the book lag. They were well-matched initially, but every time they were together their individuality just went ‘kapoot’.

So, as I was saying:

Planned endings almost never work out.

No kidding. You can plan and plan and plan, but (and to me this is one of the most wonderful parts of writing) nothing ever comes out quite the way you expect it. It as if the story itself is alive - and it has ideas of its own. It becomes what it wants and how it wants. In fact, planned anything rarely becomes what you thought it would be. Instead, it becomes what it should be, whether we like it or not.

Characters have a funny tendency to be themselves and go against your wishes.

This is the same as the ending thing. Only, characters are worse. They tend to be who they want and give you flack about it. It’s just one of those funny little things about characters. They may only be the product of an idea and some pretty words, but once you spend more and more time with them… the more they become clear to you. I may think I know who they are, but once I actually start to write about them… Well, it’s clear who’s really in charge.

Real characters have the ability to make mistakes.

Otherwise known as NOT a Mary Sue. The great thing about your rebellious characters is that they’re human… OK, not always human. You know, if you’re writing about unicorns and mermaids or whatever. But it’s just a turn-of-phrase. What I mean is that they’re most certainly not perfect. They make mistakes, they make bad decisions, they can be mean and selfish. A good example of this kind of character is Howl/Howell from Howl’s Moving Castle. He’s an infamous ‘slitherer’. He is by all accounts weak, scared, selfish and vain, but still manages to be a good person and a very likeable character. But he is still all of these things. He is not perfect and, as the next point covers, doesn’t get away with his selfish behavior.

It means nothing if a character has flaws but don't annoy anyone with them.

I hate to burst this out again, but Bella Swan of Twilight is really a fine example of this. She’s vulnerable, over-dependent, has a chip on her shoulder, a victim and just has a knack for bringing everything to ruin and coming out smelling like a rose. She makes some pretty big mistakes and, really, there’s nothing to her but smelling a certain way and being a catalyst by which a sparkling vampire and “bad boy” werewolf-thing start a quasi-war. Well that and a slew of other life-threatening occurrences. Does anything happen to her? Does anyone think any less of her or, in the slightest bit, reprimand her? Of course not! Why, she’s Bella Swan, brunette/doe-eyed/damsel-in-distress extraordinaire! Flawless! A victim! Innocent! Anyhow, a better example of what this should look like is taken from a novel (Fire by Kristin Cashore) which is one of my unexpectedly favorite books.

Fire is a character (in an alternate, fantasy world) called a “monster”. Basically, there are several varieties of this - dogs, mice, bugs, sky creatures, kittens, humans (though she is the last known human monster), etc - thing called a “monster”. They look like any other creature except that they are brilliantly colored. For example, a monster kitten will look like a kitten in every way, but may be bright pink with yellow paws. Other than their color, they also have the ability to compel others with their beauty and enter and even take the mind. Each creature has varying degrees of this, the human monster greatest of these. Cansrel was Fire’s father and the two of them were the last human monsters. Fire is shockingly beautiful, so beautiful that when she sees her own reflection even she is taken by her beauty. She can even influence the mind and all it entails: change thoughts, compel others to open up about secrets and thoughts that they wouldn’t otherwise share and the like. Basically, their minds are her open book. But here’s the catch: she is afraid of herself.

Fire explores what it’s like to be beautiful and to be hated/lusted/mistrusted for it. At one point in the book, she is so disgusted with life, afraid and so unwilling to accept the love of people who will only die. So she begins to close herself off and think only of herself. But then, in one scene, she is told to “stop sulking like a child”. I mean, the thing here is that she was rightly devastated. She had been through a string of one misfortune after another. She went through a lot. But she was still needed by others and had a chance to make a difference for someone other than herself. After being told, rather harshly, to grow up. Well, she did. It was hard and she needed help, but she knew she couldn’t stay as that hurting person forever.

Even being understandably numb, she was reprimanded and grew so much as a character. Steph-e-nieeee Mey-errrrrr~ In any case, I didn’t mean to turn this into Fire spam. But really, it’s an amazing read.

Mary Sues are characters who have reached the peak of character development by the first chapter.

Since I went into such great depth in the last point, I’ll touch sparingly here. Characters like Nora in Hush, Hush, Bella in Twilight and Jordan in Uninvited: by page ten we’ll know who they are, why they are they way they are and what to expect of them at every turn. What’s the fun in that? Without characters, what is a story? And if we know the characters off-the-bat, why read the story? We read books to learn who we are reading about and why we should care. These characters never change or grow. They are two-dimensional, flat and uninteresting. Floppppppp.

So, this is just a bit of my two sense based of this little list. But, seriously, read Fire.

Toodle Pip.

Porco Rosso

This comes about after watching a film titled Porco Rosso, a studio Ghibli film, tonight. For those of you who have not seen it, let me give you a short rundown (via Fandango):

Master animator Hayao Miyazaki directs this tale about a former World War I flying ace who is also a pig. Slouching toward middle age, Porco Rosso makes his living by flying about in his bright red plane and fighting sky bandits who prey on cruise ships sailing the Adriatic. When he's not engaging in dogfights, this pilot lives on a deserted island retreat. Porco Rosso was once a young man, but after his entire squadron was wiped out, he was mysteriously transformed into a pig. Rosso is defeated in a dogfight against a dashing American rival, who has been hired by the dastardly bandits. With his plane damaged, he finds a repair hangar near Milan run by an aging mechanic named Piccolo, and his spunky granddaughter Fio. Initially skeptical of her mechanical prowess, Rosso is amazed when she and a legion of local women fix his plane. Soon, Porco Rosso is ready to battle his rival.

I understand how ridiculous a movie this sounds. In fact, when I first saw it (I was watching a Miyazaki marathon on TCM) and I saw the synopsis for this on the TV guide I was extremely weirded out. I ended up watching it anyhow for lack of anything better to do. I was actually very moved by the film. So, I bought it at my earliest convenience. The first time I watched it with another person was with my mom who, much like some participants tonight, (to quote her own words) “didn’t get it at all.” I was very disappointed because, to me, this movie was pretty special. I tried explaining to her what I saw, but she just “didn’t get it at all.” And that made me a little sad, I’ll admit. Then I watched it with another friend who thought that it “was really, really weird…”

I thought that maybe I was the only one who saw that this film was a master piece. I mean, sure, the dude’s a pig (well, his head ) - that’s really weird, right? I totally get that. But when I saw it, I just knew that what he was didn’t matter. Rather, it was why he was the pig, what led him to become Porco that was the key to the story. And I just had trouble understanding why other people don’t see the brilliance of this movie. And then I found out I wasn’t the only person who thought that this was a piece of animated genius.

Well, this excerpt is from a blogger who reviews all of Ghibli’s latest and greatest. This summed up a lot of my feeling:

“Whenever I want to show a Hayao Miyazaki movie to someone who has never heard of Studio Ghibli, I'll almost always go for Porco Rosso. Of all their great movies, it's this one that best embodies all the great traits and characterists of the great film studio. It has adventure, imagination, and great humor; but it's also quiet and often reflective, a nostalgic romanticism.”

It is this last part that I find people somehow manage to overlook - the quiet moments of the film. The movie is chalk-full of laughs (or moments that try and be so; too many pig jokes) and irony and hyperboles, but it really lends itself to the moments where we gradually begin to see the soul of Porco Rosso. Porco’s disillusion with his very race, his conflicts, his self-loathing. And we also see two perspectives through Fio and Gina. Fio is a seventeen-year-old American plane engineer who has this very ambiguous connection to Porco that, for the most part, seems to be about her youth and sincerity. In moments, it seems like she might have feelings for him, but that is not her function in Porco Rosso. Marco (Porco’s human name) says towards the end that, because of her, he regrets ever letting the curse happen in the first place. In her is Porco’s hope that the world can sometimes be good. Gina (Porco‘s childhood friend and primary love interest), in contrast, has lived more than Fio and witnessed the dark undertones of humanity as Porco has. She is by no means under the belief that life is useless (that’s Marco’s extreme), but she is deeply rooted in reality. She says herself that she is “numb”.

One of the smartest moves Miyazaki made here, a movie inspired by himself, is that we do not know everything at once. It’s like getting to know somebody. First there is only what you see, but the more time you invest in this person, the more you learn about them and what makes them: who they are, what they believe, their motives, their strengths and weaknesses. At first all we see is this crude, disgusting pig-man who is a chain-smoker/womanizer/self-serving chauvinist. If you just look at him and expect this pig at every turn, then that it what you will have. A middle-aged pig in all sense of the word. But if you invest your time in him and the film and really watch him and his interactions closely, you’ll begin to see why he is that way. Sure, he still his a chain-smoking, womanizing, self-serving pig, but knowing why opens up so many doors.

Anyone who has seen a Hayao movie before (especially Princess Mononoke, Howl’s Moving Castle or Nausicaa) will know that he is very anti-war. He has also stated that Porco is actually based off of him. It’s rare that, through a character, we are given an open window into the creator himself. Porco, having been through WWI and apparently considered a great hero, lost most of his friends in a single dogfight. Porco says he “only cared for myself” and did not protect the others like he should have. He was the sole survivor. After this there is a sequence involving a type of graveyard for seaplane pilots that Porco witnesses, but I can’t really delve too deeply into that. I can’t really even understand that too well myself, but it seems that it is important to his decision in becoming a pig. After this point, Fio, with certainty, tells Porco it is because it was not his time yet. But Porco felt he should have died for them or at the very least with them.

He awoke as a pig-man thing. One of the most fundamental parts in Porco Rosso is Marco’s allowance of the curse. A few times it is off-handedly mentioned that he is “cursed” with being a pig, but other times he declares he “chose” to be a pig. I think it was probably both. The so-called curse turned him into a pig because he was so disgusted with himself and, in turn, humanity that he wanted it to happen and, subconsciously, did not stop it from being so. He would rather be anything else than be a human. And this is what my mother, my friend and most other people I watch it with just don’t seem to soak up. At least, not in the way I do. And I must say that my favorite quality of the film is the way that Miyazaki handles Porco’s ending. Tonight I heard it as “unsatisfying,” but for me it is anything but.

We witness this cynical pig gradually begin to notice that maybe he isn’t the pig he always thought he was and, on some levels, forgive himself as he learns from a young and ambitious girl. Here she is with a clean slate and manages to see worth in him and help him see it in himself as well.

And here’s the real kicker: I think tonight I understood why not everyone finds this as amazingly amazing as I do.

We’re all different. Our struggles are different, our strengths are different, our eyes and minds and hearts and souls are different. I came to realize how much I feel like Porco sometimes, how often I am confused and depend on the sincerity and love of other’s to realize that somewhere deep down Marco is still in there. Maybe it is because of all these things that this movie resonates with me so deeply. That I can see that being a pig doesn’t matter, only why. That the world can be wonderful even when it’s not perfect. That sometimes it’s not worth it, but when it is - well, there’s nothing quite as amazing as knowing what it’s like to breathe and live. And that even when we don’t like ourselves so much, there are others who see what we can’t. There’s compassion, and understanding.

So maybe it’s all of these things to me that make it a grand movie. Or maybe it’s something else.

But, really, it’s probably that first thing (:

Toodle Pip.

Sure thing, Prince Salami

Today, I got to thinking… if I was ever proposed to, I might want it to be like this:

“COURTNEY, YOU CRAZY FOOL! MARRY ME!”

… a more lengthy blog tomorrow. Good night.

Toodle Pip.

Reach

I was recently told something to the affect of: “Why try and hold onto the magic? No matter what you do, it will always disappear.” Normally I would have taken into account (and I do stress this) that I was told this by someone in a rotten mood, and people (me at least) love spreading their dark clouds around. There is nothing more sickening than a happy person when you’re in bad spirits. And I wouldn’t have thought further on what this person had said… had, for one, it not been about magic (and I’m not using magic in terms of sorcery here, but more as an expression of wonder and happiness) and, two, about Beauty and the Beast… and it’s magic. Now, at first I was readied to defend the ‘magic’ of Beauty and the Beast. Every time I watch it (which is only on occasions, since I don’t like watching it too often), I don’t like it any less. I know what’s going to happen, but that doesn’t ever take the magic away. And what I should have said rather than “Beauty and the Beast is magical!” was what I really, really believe – magic is what you make it.

If you don’t want it to be there, how can it exist? It’s like happiness. It can be found almost anywhere, but only if you want to be happy and only if you let yourself be.

This is a very apt quote I found that summarizes my feelings on this subject: “That’s the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.” ~ Charles de Lint.

Probably the reason what said person told me stayed with me so much is because, if you haven’t noticed, it is a great deal of who I am. While I grasp the shallowness of fables and stories, I take the best of them with me because I choose to. I like believing that a ‘duckling’ can become a swan and all that… I realize this is becoming very fluffy, if not cheesy, but I also realized that I am a very fluffy and cheesy person. I know that, for the most part, life is not a pony ride with Mary Poppins, but I also know that life can be a lot more wonderful if you find magic in the unexpected places. Some people are glass half-empty, half-full people, but I am probably a glass filled with possibility type person myself. If you see the glass full of anything, why should it matter how much or how little of it there is in the glass? It’s there, and that’s what counts for me.

Hans Christian Andersen said this: “Every man's life is a fairy tale written by God's fingers.” I believe this – surprise, surprise. You’ve got to look for the magic to know where it is, and it can be just about anywhere if you give it a chance. God has given me a love for fanciful things, I’ll grant you, but you have no idea how much it has been a blessing in my life. I find His love in the strangest places, but that’s the way of things, isn’t it? He reaches in a unique, personal and unforgettable way. So, perhaps for some people in awful moods magic is always fleeting, but I must heartily disagree. It takes effort sometimes to find what you’re looking for, but it’s not impossible. And once you find it, there’s nothing quite like it.

“There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved: It is God's finger on man's shoulder.” ~ Charles Morgan

Toodle Pip.

Say it loud, say it

Well, I was going to blog about my cattawampus weekend in Westwood Narnia, but Becca beat me to it. So, while she covered the surface of each day, I'm going to blog about one particular event she failed to mention:

Picture it, one in the morning. Starting with a body splam.

Courtney: "Say 'uncle', Becca! Say 'uncle'!"
Becca: "Uncle! Uncle!"
Courtney: "NOW SAY IT IN SPANISH! SAY IT IN SPANISH!"
Becca: "No- TIO! TIO! TIO!"
Anneke: "..."
Becca: "TIOOOO!"
Courtney: "NOW SAY IT IN ENGLISH AGAIN!"
Becca: "UNCLE!"
Courtney: "Ok then."

Revenge is sweet.

And coming back to school is not... really.

Unite!

I don’t know why, but the second I got on campus, I had one mindset: irritated.

I’m not sure why this was. Even though the bio trip took a lot of energy and I have a nice, slight limp, rash and pretty bad sunburn, I don’t think it was any of these things. Or maybe it was and I just didn’t realize…? But, still, I don’t think so. It might have been the rain or even that fact that my princess water bottle is missing. I really loved that thing ):

I was, for the most part, sharp-tongued and very short-tempered upon my return. I think it rings true that when you believe your day is going to be bad, then it probably will be. That’s how my day began. Thankfully I did what I usually do (if possible) when my mood has turned sour: I sleep. Sleeping can calm me down from any kind mood: excited, mad, irritated, etc. It’s like a cure-all for my moods. So, because of my mood/fatigue, I hit the hay and, 3.5 hours later, I awoke to a better mood.

My eyes/skin/rash still burned and my bottle was still missing (though I know where it went now), but I was in better spirits about it. Thank the Lord for sleep~

So, about the trip itself, I don’t really like blogging too much (because that would take some of the fun of the trip away) but I’ll post a few details:

- Jeremy never saw his shooting star. But, it is theorized, he will when receiving his “first kiss” - it will shoot down from the sky, landing near him. With his space rock, he will make a sword, engagement ring and paper weights for wedding guests. I only hope this comes to pass.

- Spile is a good twenty questions object. At least, it stumped 85% of the hikers on the way to the lake-y thing we hiked to. Poor Jeremy didn’t think this was fair, and maybe it wasn’t. Not even Ruth knew what it was. But! I forgot to tell him this, but next time he plays this game he, too, can impress with his knowledge.

- “Cellular respiration!” “Yaaaay!”

- There are no showers…

- I don’t have good shoes for hiking… at all. I fell at least six times, and almost fell/lost my footing about an additional ten times. I came away mostly unscathed, with only Ruth saying: “If only you had better shoes.”

- Even with good shoes, I haven’t been granted to the gift of grace. Who knew.

- We had to make small groups to make sure that no one was lost during our hike. Me, Jeremy, Ruth and Emily formed a group, naming it J-REC. We even had nature names: J = Thundering Dodo, R = Mountain Goat, E = Splendiferous Sparrow and C = Photosynthetic Cyanobacteria. When we breaked someone, namely me, would shout: "J-REC!" We would then come together and put out fists out while shouting our nature names. We'd then pull back our fists and declare, "UNITE!" Eventually a few professors caught on and started joining our group, as did a few students. Trend-setting. Ur doin' it right.

- The only time of the day I seemed to have phone service was in the back of the tent at four in the morning.

- It was freezing at night. I even busted out my towel to sleep with, not that it made much difference.

- My hiccups are gaining renown fast.

- I learned such phrases from Pam: “Doll”, “Heavens to Betsy!”, “It’s like herding cats!”, etc.

- Brian Hooker (new bio/nurse professor) snores like a freight train.

- According to Jeremy, who was staying in the tent of Larry Siemens, Life Extraordinaire, he awoke to Larry whispering: “You hear that? That’s a pygmy owl.”

- Jeremy understandably hates being called ‘Jer bear’, but Gangsta J Pimpy Foo Yee is fine by him.

- I feel for Ruth, having to had share a tent with me. I awoke early in the morning in search of my missing pillow. I’d been sleeping on something lumpy, a jacket maybe, so I began scouring for my pillow. Instead I grabbed Ruth’s head: “Oh, sorry about that Ruth. I though you were my pillow.”

- Emily lent me better socks. I think I left them rolled up in the sleeping back. Oops.

- I didn’t know I was sunburned until I returned to Simpson and saw myself in the mirror. Oh boy was I surprised.

- I was so desperate for clean hair Saturday night that I dumped really cold water on my head repeatedly. So. Worth. It.

- My eyes burn so bad. Soooo bad. I don’t know why. I’m probably missing a bunch of other things: like the beauty of the hikes, the camp fires, and the no-beavers… but you’ll probably hear those things from me regardless.

I IZ PINK AZ MAI STUFF!

Toodle Pip.

Farming and Other Such Things

“I feel like a farmer’s daughter.”

Or so says Athena. Since I found out picking fruit off of the campus trees is, in fact, legal, I feel safe in posting this blog and not blocking it or anything. So, as I was drifting off into slumber land, I get a call from Athena. I forgot that, earlier that day, I had been invited to their special fruit picking outing. I LOVE fruit. So, upon the reminder, I got out of my comfy PJs, grabbed my Totoro hat and slipped out into the night! Excitement!

I didn’t know exactly how we were going to extract said fruit, but I guess my dear friends from Morgan had some ideas… namely involving a football named “Donald” and launching him into the branches. It took a few times, but it eventually rained fruit for our expedition. On the whole we got plums, another kind of smaller plums, peaches, pears and apples. So, really quite productive. If we’re farmers daughters then, a) Athena is adopted, b) Hannah, Becca and I are adopted or c) Something is not right. Take your pick.

Not much to write about… some things are more fun to experience than to chronicle… but on another note…

And this may be harsh, but sometimes I just want some people to be quiet, PLEASE. It’s hard enough to pay attention in class without your insipid prattle distracting me. Not because it’s interesting - no, no. Just because it is so insanely ridiculous that I want to turn around and hit you with a dictionary. Or a bible. Something! Maybe a bible dictionary! I mean, the things some girls talk about, especially a certain ring of freshman! I really just wanted to vomit. In. My. Spleen. I just had to breathe and listen to music in my head… and it kind of worked. But, still, it was so ridiculous…. END RANT.

Dum dee dum.

BY THE WAY, RUTH: Thanks for volunteering me for Bio treasurer. *sarcasm* I am so lazy, it’s really sad.

Toodle Pip.

Almost There

Stop. Breath. Inhale. Exhale. Stop. Breathe.

Seriously, this day has been that:

Up at 6:40 to finish lab. Didn’t finish it.

Shower at 7:10.

Lab at 8, plus poptart on the way.

In lab until 11:45 today. That’s, count ‘em, almost four hours.

Met with Emily at the lab then went to check my mail (got a book in the mail), then headed up to second floor to make an appointment and then headed to the dorm.

At the dorm by 11: 59.

Texting Becca: “Lunch at 12?”

Becca replying: “12:30?”

Finally agreeing to it. Spending time with Emily in dorm when I get a call from Becca ~12:07: “Want to just go now?” Fine, whatever.

Get there ~12:15. Eating. Bad pasta. Then cereal. Yum and a cookie.

Eating with Anne, Becca and Emily until 12:47 when I head back to the dorm to get my stuff for Biblical Backgrounds (at 1) and World Civ (at 2:40).

Biblical Backgrounds. Doodled. Will get notes from Ruth. Ends at 2:30.

Stay in the same classroom for my next class, World Civ, ten minutes later.

Drooled on myself and talked about the Epic of Gilgamesh to the classroom. Got a piece of chocolate for Becca. Over at 4:10.

Then onto chorale at 4:20. Sat next to Becca for about ten minutes. Then moved to 2nd alto. o_o Never been an alto… I’m usually first soprano. Interesting~ We’ll see how this works out.

5:30, walking from chorale to Becca’s dorm. Watched her eat cheese for five minutes. Bantered about the temperature. Left.

Finally, in my dorm at 6:00. “Ruth, wanna go to dinner?”

And then we did. Anneke named my occasional hiccup “Earl the frog.” Yey.

Came back. Am tired. So tired. No break all day. Not really. Gonna take nap or something…

Yeah~ then some homework. So, so tired.

*yawn*

Toodle Pip.

Whom Then Shall I Fear?

I love conversations that put your faith into perspective. Occasionally I’ll post blogs that are actually meaningful, not just mildly entertaining hysterically brilliant anecdotes of my everyday life. Honestly, a lot of them are a bit insipid, but I don’t like taking myself too seriously. Yet sometimes we have to, because being silly can be silly in itself. Like everything else, moderation is important. Like I said, perspective. Tonight I was granted some. This is very probably my last year in a mostly Christian environment before I am plucked out of my safe haven and dropped into a world that is not just blasé about Jesus, but sometimes against him. I’m not ready to be in such a place. I mean, I don’t want to get ahead of myself and be too serious, but at the same time I don’t want to shrug off every little thing. Jesus died for me, He loves me, He is always faithful when I’m not.

I actually received two bits of revelation today: The first was in chapel. Not only did Matthew Kelly put me in my place, but so did worship. I stared out into the student body and was in awe. I saw the love of Jesus Christ and wept. There is just something about worship that bridges God and I (and I am sure others). It is a kind of fellowship that, for me, transcends all others. It just made me cry to see how insignificant all my problems and worries were. What do they mean to other people? What should they mean to me? I found part of my answer in observing a flock of sheep. It was also brought to my attention tonight that I am not in a good place. I’ve been very complacent, just drifting along the ocean waiting for a plane or another ship and not seeking one out.

There’s a gap from one side of land to the other and no bridge. Probably because I am not building my half of the bridge. It is because I have been neglecting reading the Word and have let my attention waver to such vapid matters. I also realized I am not being a counselor to my brothers and sisters in Christ. Tonight aside, when is the last time I heard or received a praise report? When have I stopped and prayed for someone other than myself? I am ashamed. I’m not helping, and maybe even I’m hurting.

I don’t know what else to say, only that I need to be better. More.

Toodle Pip.

Rare and Unexpected Friends

I don’t have much to blog about, save a few apprehensions about this semester. But I’m already worrying when I’m not blogging, so I’m not going to dedicate this blog to those frustrations. That’s counter-productive and not going to help anything. So, anyhow, I wanted to blog but didn’t really have a topic… and then *bing*! Last night when I was trying to sleep I got the idea: a blog of pictures. You see, I’ve been taking pictures for my blog, but I don’t really feel up to writing about all those small, funny depicted things in my photos. So… I’m going to post the pictures I have in my phone from the Tuesday before I left till now and a small caption or sentence beneath it. They should speak for themselves, as it were.

I’m going to try to do these types of blogs every now and then so that all my beautiful friends can be inclusive in my posts. There are so many things I want to show you; our days iz crazeh. Welcome to Courtney’s Daily Universe:


The first thing I will include is a beautiful show of sisterly love that all you sisters out there can take notes from:

Ladies and gentlemen: Ashley and Brad.

Duhdum.

We are walking by this fanceh car~

Walking s'more.

Can you guess? Wait for it... wait for it...

BLAHWHATEVS(:


Becca thinks very highly of her mini bowling set.

My face when Anne/Becca called my parents vampires.

"Wanna see my Christmas list?" And then she pulled it out of her pockets.

I'm in ur room, stalkin' holdin' ur penngwin~

*sniffles* My last picture with Molly.

Bambi and Totoro... alwehs wachin u

For: Mariah, Canvas used: Anne's shoulder

In meh cloister looking for Mr. Right Captain Von Trapp.

"Turn around, Ruth! Turn around!"

'Tis all. Not as epic as hoped~ But we'll see about more in the future. Maybe more will happen, maybe not.

In closing,

Toodle Pip.

Be My Last

I leave in a few hours. And I don’t know how I feel about it. Conflicted, I guess. I’ve gotten so accustomed to being home that it’s very strange to be leaving. I won’t have my parents or siblings or dogs, and I’ll be left to my own devices. I’m a bit sad because, though chaotic, I really loved being home. I mean, I don’t always appreciate it, but I do right now. I love school, though I love home more. I wish there was some way I could have both. It’s partly the reason I’ve decided to transfer out of Simpson after this year. That and it’s expensive. Anyhow, this blog was actually meant to cover the events of the past few days, rather than my woes about leaving home. So, back to the topic:

Wednesday my sister and Brad were taking me to Little Tokyo in LA as a last hurrah before coming back to school. Usually a trip to LT includes karaoke at Max, stopping at the Japanese market and a bite to eat. However, it went a little differently this time ‘round:

Planned to take the Metro. Thanks to another dazzling fight between Ashley and Brad about appropriate shower times, we missed the train. Ashley and I, riding ahead of Brad, had a conversation like this: “You know, Courtney, next time you need to tell me when you get out of the shower.” “I did… a minute later.” “And you really should have taken a shower after me. I take shorter showers when I’m pressured.” “My mistake… but your shower was, like, really long.” “Actually it wasn’t.” “But it was like over thirty minutes.” “It wasn’t.” “OK.” *eight minutes of silence* “You know, Brad made us late.” “Oh?” “Yeah. His shower was really long and he didn’t even take one right after me. He made us late.” “Okey-dokey.” She just can’t function without blaming someone.

Instead, we hitched a ride with her friend Cynthia.

Cynthia spent 80% of the car ride to LA on the phone with her work. The other 20% was spent on awkward conversation and silence since, for some reason, I was in the front seat and Ashley and Brad were in the back watching Big Bang Theory. Which left me and Cynthia with only each other to talk to. We have virtually nothing in common and spent most of the time making strained small talk. She’s nice and everything, but she’s Ashley’s friend, which is fairly indicative that we have very little common-ground.

We make it to LT and Ash and I went to the market only to find that they rearranged everything. Meaning, the my favorite drink to get there, Suntory Gokuri peach, was missing. Ashley ended up finding it, but it was warm (it used to come refrigerated), so I got something else instead. She’s going to send me up some next time she goes to LT. She doesn’t know it yet, but she will. They’re so good~ tastes just like drinking a peach. So I got some carrot juice, pandas and really, really nasty mochi instead.

On another note, while at the LT market: I was scanning the pocky and saw this strange type of pocky I’d never seen before… Men’s Chocolate Pocky… I don’t really get it. It looks like normal pocky, except that the packaging is an aqua-green and not red. But that’s it. Red isn’t particularly feminine, so I was/am a little confused. Just an interesting note. Men’s pocky. Maybe it’s physically impossible/or illegal for woman to consume it. Wow.

Anyhow, onto karaoke! It was actually pretty fun, though halfway through Cynthia was called into work. Brad and I sang a few Taylor Swift duets and tackled Bohemian Rhapsody. It’s a bit unfair, since Ashley and Cynthia can read kanji, but I looked up the romaji to a few songs and, for Anneke, sang Be My Last by Utada Hikaru. Her. Favorite. Song. Well, not really. Anyhow, it was fun and the best part of the day~

And then Hell broke loose. Brad missed his train because Ashley led us to the metro bus instead of the train. So Brad missed the train he planned to take into Riverside so he could get to some classes he hoped to add. Thus, he was petulant/angry and he and Ash even had a screaming match at the platform. Yes, I was embarrassed and did walk away as if I didn’t know them. People were watching. At one point Ashley marched up to me and announced: “Let’s go, Courtney! We’re leaving Brad here!” She tried to get me to leave him at the station by himself in the heart of LT. Brad has zero common sense. It would be like leaving a twelve-year-old to fend for himself. So, I refused. Eventually it went to angry whispers/arguing between them as we took the bus to the metro train station and bought our tickets. After that, they both deflated and got on better terms and were even enjoying the train home.

I enjoyed the train too. I was listening to my iPod and watching the landscape blur by in what was my first train ride since third grade. But then this thing with her SmartWater bottle started. For some reason, she grabs her empty bottle, starts waving it like a maniac and then slaps me with it. I don’t really know why… it was like when my dog, Molly, who doesn’t usually play, wants to. I don’t have enough data on this yet to offer any kind of explanation. So, she hits me with the bottle. I grab it from her and hit her. Eventually she gets it back and hits me again. I grab it from her and hit her. So, it became this every-few-minute battle of SmartWater. Very interesting. But most of the time she and Brad were watching Big Bang Theory on her iPhone. Although, I got into her Facebook as we were nearing Ontario. This will come into play later.

So, the train is at Riverside, though still moving. We’re on the third level and get up to move to the first. That’s when I fall. I’m not even sure how it happened exactly, only that one moment I’m at the top of the stairs leading to the second level and the next my butt is bouncing down every step to the bottom. It didn’t even hurt or anything at first. It was just a bit embarrassing. Ashley comes up and helps me up. At this point I had a firm hold on the SmartWater bottle up until the last step when I lost my grip and it flies under another seat. The first words out of my mouth were: “Get the bottle!” So Ashley gets it, I grab it and shove it in my purse for safekeeping. After I get the bottle, I follow Ashley down to the first level as the metro is pulling into the station. Curious people asked if I was fine (I was), and then it hits. For some reason, I go from o-100 in nausea right after that. The second the doors opened, I ran out and knocked into another lady. The same lady who told me to tell the conductor I fell. As if he cares. I didn’t have any obvious injuries so I told her I didn’t need to. As soon as I’m out, I’m ready to hurl. I ran to a nearby planter, poised to let go of my lunch. In fact, another lady tries to help me after seeing how sick I feel. But then I remember that I had nothing to eat that day. So I can’t barf. But I want to.

Next, as Brad heads off to class, we’re waiting for my mom to pick us up from the metro station. I’m sitting with my head bent over on the bench, still sick, when Matthew calls. This is where the Facebook thing comes in. All I hear is Ashley screech: “She what?!” and then glare at me. You see, I had typed something like this on her Facebook as a status… “Ai love mai sistah, Courtneh. She grate. Ai love her. Ai give her a kidney! Any day!” This was just supposed to be some stupid, rambling nonsense. But I guess it gave a few people the idea that she had donated her kidney to me. So, that was pretty hilarious. I was falling over in laughter as she began chanting, “I don’t care that you fell anymore. I don’t care. I don’t care.”

Bumper butt. That’s what they’re calling me now. Because my butt bump-bump-bumped down every step. And while I originally was sure I had no injuries, only a few scrapes, the next morning I found out otherwise. I’m not sure what exactly is wrong, only that my hip is not liking me right now. I have to pick up my leg with my hands to get it over a step because it hurts to lift it. If I don’t move, it doesn’t hurt, but any kind of walking of lifting is painful. So I have to basically pick up my leg for it to not hurt when I step over something or get out of the car. It’s great. I’m hoping it will go away soon and that it’s only a sprain or that I tore a muscle or something. At least the nausea is gone~

Well. That’s it. My last blog in Southern California. I leave for Redding, in a little less than four hours. *sigh* So conflicted.

But on a happier note, I forgot a little excerpt from yesterday. As I was listening to One Jump Ahead (reprise) from Aladdin, Eric-a passes by and says to my mom: “When I was in grade school, we used to be in a group at recess and pick a Street Rat and then beat him up.” For some reason, I was speechless. In amazement.

That is all. It was a great four months, Southern California.

Toodle Pip.

Blasé… and/or petulant

You have GOT to be kidding me. I wanted to blog yesterday, but I had nothing really to write about. Now I do, but I actually would rather not have this particular material to cover. *breathes*

So yesterday I checked the online catalog for our library and saw that the Graceling audio book I checked out had not, in fact, been checked in. I turned it in on Thursday. This happened late July with one of the Sarah Dessen books I checked out, so I wasn’t initially worried. It festered a little, but I set my alarm for 8:50 am to call the library promptly at 9. They didn’t answer until 9:03, by the way. How is THAT for service (I’m kidding here)? Anyhow, I called and was like “Uh, hey, Buddy. Listen, I turned this audio book in. I’m positive. FIND IT PLEASSEE!” And so on.

He didn’t. He checked and told me to get back on Wednesday and, if that doesn’t work, to call head of circulation. I’m leaving later that same week. If that “doesn’t work out” as he puts it, I’m going to have to hassle the library all the way from Redding! He was so blasé, even petulant, about the whole thing. Psh. He isn’t the one with a potential, unjustified $65.00 replacement fee hanging over his head. Yeah. That’s me. I wouldn't mind so incredibly much if this had been a regular book. Even if I didn’t misplace it, I could handle paying $15 for a book. But not $65!!!!! I’m so stressed about this. He said not to call back until Wednesday. I’m calling back in half and hour. Whatever it takes for them to find this book.

You know what’s the stupidest thing about this whole mess? I hated the audio book. It’s narrated by a man! The protagonist is a woman! A woman! Though, to be fair, all the dialogue is full-cast audio. It’s not first person POV, but the main character is still female, you know? It bothered me. I haven’t even listened to much of it because I was so weirded out. I’m soooo mad! I know I turned that audio book in! I know!

*angry noises*

Lesson for the day: Get things checked out by hand from now on or record you putting them in the return cubby. Trust no one.

Yey.

Toodle Pip.

Mockingjay

I’ll do my best to write this without spoilers, but it’s going to prove difficult. Any spoilers will be in red and any hints will be in blue.

I don’t think I’m ever going to pick this book up for a second read. Not because it was bad or terribly written, but because I don’t think I could handle reading it again. There will be a slight, non-descript spoiler in the end of this sentence, past the colon (in red), so if you really don’t want to know, avert the sentence: There is just no fixing some things that happen and I really thought, hey, this can’t happen… this person can’t die, and yet…

I can draw no real complaints about the book (though Collins is more of a character development author than a style author), save that everything established in the previous books was lost. The two first books both had the same ‘mood’, if you know what I mean. Nothing happened that had me dropping my jaw, nothing made me stop, set the book down and gather my thoughts before continuing. Certainly there were twists I didn’t expect, but nothing that I couldn’t connect the dots with. It’s like this is a third in a different series. Like, say you have a friend that moved away and you go and visit her. The first time you visit her, she’s the same as when she left. The second time you visit her, she’s changed a little, but is still very similar to how she was. But then you wait some time and visit her a third time and she’s hardly the same person. She looks the same, but everything else has changed. I felt that the world Mockingjay explored was strange and different altogether.

Mockingjay was nothing I expected. It was even a bit like a nightmare... except you don’t wake up and realize that every awful thing you dreamed did not happen. Because it did happen. And this may be construed as a spoiler, though no surprise to anyone… hardly any of my semi ‘predictions’ came to pass. But I don’t even really blame my blinders for that. I didn’t see most of what was coming. The first third of the book fell into step with the first two books mood-wise, but after that it became something new that, though not necessarily bad, was so much more complex than its predecessors. The most significant change to The Hunger Games Trilogy with Mockingjay that I find is that The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, though violent and interesting, they were not quite so multipart as the last installment. The violence was different, too. Though detailed in all books, it was less… devastating, I think, in the earlier books. It settled strangely with me, actually. It was so unlike I expected from Suzanne Collins.

Maybe I didn’t like it. I don’t know. Maybe it was that all the hopes I built up were shattered and I had to face that things I didn’t want to happen did. Maybe it was that I am strangely invested in the characters and I still am, long past the final page. I don’t think it was enough. I really don’t. I think what very much bothered me was that Katniss was victimized from all sides and never truly won. She wasn’t defeated… but not being defeated isn’t the same as winning. I read through both previous books hungrily, never doubting Katniss would triumph over everything and would always be the Victor. But, really, nobody won. Maybe it’s that Mockingjay made me feel that the war was real, because for the characters that Collins dreamed up it was. It was alsothat Katniss’ ever-changing opinion, circumstances and bad lot prompted thought-provoking moments that came from all sides, very much unlike The Hunger Games and Catching Fire.

I just didn’t expect it to be like this. Maybe it’s because it’s late. I don’t know. But I don’t think I will ever read Mockingjay again, because I don’t think my heart could take it. I'll see how I feel about it when I wake up, and add my more comprehensive thoughts once at least Anneke and Becca had read it.

Toodle Pip.

Mockingjay!

I decided moments after buying Mockingjay that I would submit a blog before sitting down to read it. I must admit I cheated a bit and read the first seven pages in the car on the way home, but it didn’t reveal anything of substance. So, I don’t think it counts. Not really. Honestly, this is such a big moment right now. I’ve been waiting for this book since January, when I first bought Catching Fire just before coming back to school for Spring Term. The same Spring Term I met the infallible Becca Rose. I remember texting Anneke right after I bought that book at Sam’s Club, the same place I just purchased Mockingjay from. I’ve never been more excitied for a book since The Tenth Power by Kate Constable was released. The only book I am anticipating more is the release of Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore, whenever the heck that comes out. As soon as Bitterblue is released, I have no books to wait for… it’s almost sad. Unless Kristin Cashore decided to write another book in the Graceling universe, which I seriously doubt. But you never know.

I don’t know what I’m expecting coming into Mockingjay. Will it be good? I believe it will be. Usually sequels disappoint, but I feel that Suzanne Collins actually improved upon points in The Hunger Games and certainly did not disappoint. I wonder about Peeta. I doubt he really is dead, like believed by Katniss and Co., but I wonder if he’ll be rescued or if he, Johanna and the others captured in the Quarter Quell will find a way out on their own. I don’t know. It seems it would be no small feat escaping from any holding spot in the Capitol, but they’re a resourceful group. You kind of have to be when you’ve been through two Hunger Games, you know? Or... Sort of two. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be some cheesy reunion between Peeta and Katniss, because with her attitude during Catching Fire’s epilogue, she seemed fairly catatonic. I hope the reason she does not rise out of said mood is not because of Peeta. I don’t think there is any way that could not be cliché. I hope that their reunion is not overrated. But Collins is fairly good about not being overwhelmingly sappy… at least not often, and seems very careful with how she treats Katniss and Peeta together. She doesn't change their personalities around to suit the romance. A lot of authors will have their characters be one way while alone and transform them into these completely different people when with their, err, special person.

Observe Maria V. Snyder, author of the Poison Study series… and, of course, Stephenie Meyer.

What I worry most about, however, is Gale. I don’t know about him. I like the guy, but he’s got some serious problems. I hope that if the closure does end in a Peeta/Katniss favor, that Gale is not tossed aside and not given the ending he deserves. I have a sneaking suspicion that if Madge survived the bombings of District 12, she’ll be put with Gale. Or there will be hints of a romantic relation there, anyhow. I also suspect there is something in the cards for Gale’s mother and Haymitch, but we’ll just have to see. That could simply be my imagination… it would be strange for Gale to have a Step-father in Haymith Abernathy. What a father he would be! I’m also anxious to find out what happens to Finnick and to have more of him in Mockingjay. He is actually one of my favorite characters. For all his bravado, he’s awfully unstable and reminds me a lot of Katniss. But smart.

As for other predictions... I don’t have much of an eye for predictions. To be honest, I’m a bit dull about foreshadowing and other hints that some people (namely Anneke and Becca) find extremely obvious. I have no such skill for seeing obvious plot twists. I’m a bit oblivious. Which, you know, I actually find good, because when something “so completely obvious” does happen, it comes as a surprise and I enjoy the book more for that. So perhaps being a writer is out for me, but who knows? I think Suzanne Collins did a fairly good job of concealing spoilers in Catching Fire. They were more exposed in The Hunger Games (even I noticed quite a few), but I think she was a more covert writer in Catching Fire. I caught that Plutarch Heavensbee was an ally, but I didn’t grasp the bigger picture of escaping the arena. The only obvious spoilers were Heavensbee (since Katniss didn't trust him, I thought that reason enough to believe he was on her 'side') and District 13 still existing. I totally missed the bread thing… (*face palm*) By ‘the bread thing’ I mean how the time and day of escape were indicated on the delivered loaves. I just thought Finnick was being selfish and wanted the bread…

Nevermind. Anyhow, I am eager to read Mockingjay, so I’m going to draw this blog to a close. I will make another entry when I am finished but omit any major spoilers, only blogging my feelings and what I thought. I is so excited!!!!!!!!

Official Who Gets to Read Mockingjay After Courtney (Nothing Personal It Is In Order of Who Asked Me to Read It First, Not Favoritism Or Anything Like That) List:

• Becca Rose
• Anneke
• Emily
• You Could Be Next
  
  Toodle Pip.

Gee, Thanks

O: There is a church collective to get me on a Greyhound. I can’t believe this! I can’t be-lieve it! If you see my post from earlier today (see below), you’d know about how Stew called to get my parents to stick me on a bus up to Redding. Now, at 8:30 at night, another member of our church called… WHAT? WHAT? He started talking with my mom about their health issues and I hear my mom ticking off why, oh why, I can’t gather all of my belongings, board a Greyhound and head up to Redding by myself. I’m really starting to wonder if there is a church fund raiser for my bus ticket or something! I mean, two phone calls in one day!!!!!!

I can’t believe this.

On another note, the writers left the YA showdown at a "tie". So. Stupid. They didn't even declare a real winner, they were just like: "Oh, yeah... Howl got the first vote but Eugenides won by like six votes. Decide for yourself!" So. Stupid.

What. A. Day.

Toodle Pip.

Guilt. Ur doin' it right

No way in the Ell-Hay. Who calls at eight in the morning? Family members and people with emergencies. I mean, it isn’t as if eight is an ungodly hour or something, but it’s common courtesy to at least wait until ten. Well, it is in our house. This morning I happened to be up with my parents who were both up and about, getting ready for my dad’s doctors appointment. The phone rang, and I was fairly sure it was my sister, Ashley, who started school today. She has a habit of calling the house a lot, no matter what hour it might be, like I said: family members and people with emergencies. But when I checked the caller ID, it didn‘t say Ashley. It was Stew Breadsticks, a member of our church. His name is not, in fact, Stew, but that’s what we’ll call him in my blog. He’s a fairly old guy, and I really like him because he always seems to remember everyone and always gives me these little bible cards with my name on it, the meaning and a bible verse. I have like five of them. He’s really sweet. But I could have used the Lord’s name in vain and other profanities at him this fair morning.

It started out like this:

Courtney: “Hello?”
Stew: “Good morning, who is this? Is this Courtney?”
Courtney: (in my ‘elderly people voice’) “It sure is!”
Stew: “I thought that sounded like you, Courtney! So, heading back up to school - to Simpson soon?”
Courtney: “Mhmm. In ten days, I think.”
Stew: “So… do you know how you’re getting back up to school?”
Courtney: “Um. My parents are taking me.”
Stew: “…”
Courtney: “…”
Stew: “Are you parents really up for that, Courtney?”
Courtney: “Um… I don’t know?”
Stew: “Courtney, have you ever taken a bus?”
Courtney: “Yes… it wasn’t a very… good experience…” (Really, it wasn’t)
Stew: “You know they can take all of your stuff and you up in a bus, don’t you?”
Courtney: “Yeah… but…”
Stew: “I don’t think your parents can handle that drive. Can they?”
Courtney: “I… don’t know…”
Stew: “I know a bus isn’t the best, but can you parents really - economy or health wise - take you back up to school? With the car accident and how things are, do you really think they’re able to take you back up to school?”
Courtney: *speechless*
Stew: “You should really think of your parents and what’s best for them. I know you love them, but they can’t take you back to school. You’ve taken a bus before, right? For Christmas? What did it cost you?”
Courtney: “Um… $100 and something round-trip…”
Stew: “You’d only need a one-way ticket!”
Courtney: “Yeah… I don’t really know the cost…”
All the while pantomiming at my mother to save me!
Stew: “How many stops are there? Would you leave out of Riverside?”
Courtney: “Uh… yeah… to Redding… like ten stops or something…”
Stew: “That’s understandable…”
It’s understandable.
Courtney: “Yeah…”
Searching the house for my father to save meh!
Stew: “I know you love them, Courtney, but you need to think of them. You could take a bus, there are other options. It’s a long drive to Redding, you know.”
And a longer bus ride.
Courtney: *speechless*
DAD! MOM! And, finally, my Dad. Oh, I love you, Dad. Thank you for accepting the phone!
Dad: “Hey, Stew.”
Stew: “Bob! How’ve you been!” etc. “So… I heard you’re taking Courtney up to school… are you really up for that?”
Dad: *speechless*
Stew: “…”
Dad: “Well, we’ve decided to take her.”
Stew: “Yes, but do you think you’ll be able to make that drive in your condition? And Carol?”
Dad: “Well, we’ve decided to take her.”
Stew: “Last time I spoke with you on the phone, you didn’t sound like you could make it up. Between you and Carol’s physical therapy, do you really think it’s a good idea?”
Dad: “…”
Stew: “I was telling Courtney that you should send her up on a bus.”
Courtney: *speechless*
Stew: “They can take up all of her things, you know.”
In the background, I wave towards my mom: “Tell him they offered me drugs and alcohol! TELL HIM! TELL HIM! HE WANTS TO SEND ME UP ON THAT BUS! ON THE DRUG AND ALCOHOL BUSSSS! TELL HIM!”
Dad: “Well… I think we’re going to take her.”
Stew: “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
In the background, my mom whispers: “The hotel is already booked~”
Dad: “Yeah… but… uh, I think we want to spend the time with Courtney. You know, to get away as a family and spend some time together.”
Stew: Without missing a beat, “When did she first come home?”
Dad: “Uh, May.”
Stew: “So, let’s see… that’s four whole months you’ve had with her, right?”
Dad: “Yeah.”
Stew: “So, you’ve already spent a lot of time with her already.”
Dad: *speechless*
What do you say to that?
Stew: “She can take all her things up in the bus.”
Dad: “Yeah, you know what. We’ll pray about it and take it to the Lord for prayer. Thanks, Stew. But you know, we have to head out actually. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this morning.”
Stew: “No problem, Bob. Thanks and God Bless."

o_o Seriously?

I can’t believe that actually happened. A member from our church, who we love, actually tried to get my parents to send me on a bus with all of my things up to Redding. Alone. By. Myself. I mean, he must have called at EIGHT IN THE MORNING for that express purpose. So, he must have thought this out at least somewhat ahead. What did he think I was going to do? Hitch a ride from the Greyhound Bus Station with all my belongings to Simpson? Rent a bike? How did he think I was going to get groceries and other things? Get a piggy-back from Night Crawler to Winco? Hitch hike to World Market?*speechless* I was so angry, but now I’m just stunned. He actually tried to guilt me into going it alone with all my stuff in a Greyhound. Never mind that I swore never to board another Greyhound again if I could help it.

It was a low blow. My parents really aren’t in ideal health to take the drive up and down to Redding. I know that, but what other options do we have? Greyhound? Puh! I couldn’t bear to part from them at a smelly bus station. Clearly Stew is sure I’m being selfish (which I suppose is true), but I’m only 19! I don’t have the moxie to make it without my parents and he knows it. I’m stunned. He had valid points, but it was none of his darn business, you know? It’s hard enough to have my parents doing this without Stew telling me, indirectly, what an awful daughter I am for letting them do this. Honestly, I don’t think I could handle going up without my parents. And I don’t think my parents could handle not taking me up. We don’t really have a choice, attractive as Stew’s alternative is…

What a morning, folks, what a morning.

Toodle Pip.