Brandon

For all intents and purposes I didn't decide to involve myself romantically with boys until college. However, there was this boy I went to school with in middle school named Brandon who rode my school bus and made me laugh. So since I saw him twice a day and enjoyed to laugh I decided that I liked him and therefore wanted him to be my boyfriend without really knowing what that really meant. Taking charge of the situation I asked Brandon one day before I got off the school bus if he would be my boyfriend. He said no. Haley Ward, one of my friends at the time, who, strangely enough, I saw at the Tin Top while I was working the other night, threatened to beat him up for being mean to me and not saying yes. It would be a safe assumption to assume that Haley scared him because he asked me the same day if I wanted to be his girlfriend. I said yes.   Strange enough, I don't remember ever really talking to him that much. Brandon got on the bus about thirty minutes after I did so for thirty minutes I would listen to music and talk to my other friends, but as soon as he got on the bus I would pretend to be asleep so he wouldn't sit next to me because I was to embarrassed to talk to him. However, despite avoiding him hard core and not talking to him I, being the great girlfriend that middle school me was, bought him a Christmas present. It was small, a piece of candy I think? I gave it to him the last day we rode the bus before Christmas break began. 

On the first day back after our vacation, he comes on the bus with a belated Christmas present. I remember thinking it was huge! When I unwrapped it I found this cute and adorable stuffed animal. Needless to say Brandon and I didn't stick together for very long, but I kept the animal.

I was doing laundry the other day after my mom had unpacked a bunch of stuff from our boxes from moving a billion times. (We've moved so much that we have stuff packed in boxes from 3 moves ago that we have yet to unpack.) Guess what I found unpacked? The stuffed animal Brandon gave me. I always loved that animal.

Poor Brandon.

Repeat after me,

“I am stronger than bacon.”

If I know eating meat is bad but I still do it, am I a bad person.

Do you think lab grown meat is disgusting, why or why not.

                To respond to the lovely Vlogbrother, Hank Green, I do not think I am stronger than bacon—it’s greasy film and crunchy texture are kryptonite on my tongue. The next logical conclusion would be to say that I am not superman so having kryptonite on my tongue would be a bother at all.  Okay, so maybe I could stop eating bacon if I really wanted to, truth is I do not really eat bacon that often, but I’m not sure if I want to stop eating it definitively.

                I have a feeling that in Hank’s not-rhetorical question he is not searching for nerdfighteria to make him feel better about eating meat and reassure him that, ‘yes, yes you are a good person, Hank.” Instead his intent seems to be to foster nerdfighteria to ponder good and bad, and what makes someone either good or bad. So that is what I am doing.

                Although few things in the world are as black and white, completely distinguishable from one another, for the sake of my ponderings I am going to say that good and bad are completely separated—though we all know that isn’t true. I think there are good people, like those who promote world awesome, and there are bad people, all the Warner Chilcots of the world (rapists and etc.) who promote world suck. Interestingly enough, Warner Chilcots can do good things that promote awesome like not killing innocent kittens, but that doesn’t make them completely good. Similarly, good people can do sucky things like getting mad at our brother and yelling at them. Being angry and yelling at people is wrong, we know this, yet the majority of the world does it anyway. However, I don’t think the act of good a Warner Chilcot does makes Warner Chilcot good and neither do I think yelling in anger at someone makes awesome people suck. It just means that an individual (or group) did something bad or good.

                Though I do think our actions do create us. If someone does mostly bad things, I think it would be safe to say they are a bad person. However, there is the situation were someone does a lot of bad when they really are trying to do good. I would argue that that person is really a good person in general that is just having problems doing the right thing.

                Hmm, so no, I don’t think eating meat even though you know is bad is a bad thing.

                I don’t find the idea of lab chops disgusting. If it was just like normal meat, why not? However I am concerned by the fact that man normally messes up everything and creates everyday items that cause horrible cancer. I worry that there would be a health issue connected to lab meat. I also worry that animals species would die off and that humans would no longer know how to raise animal, which would be a huge problem if our civilization ever stopped functioning.  I love that by using lab meat, animals would no longer be tortured to feed us all. I have no problem eating meat, but it is sad how those animals are treated post birth, they really don’t deserve to be treated that way.

Apples.

Everyone should be jealous because I can eat apples without cutting them first. Apples, I do believe, are my new favorite food.

There are 15 days until I move back to Oglethorpe which seems more like home to me than anywhere else, though that may be because I spent 3/4 of my past year there. It may seem crazy, but I am really excited to move back into a dorm bed. I haven't been sleeping well since I rearranged my room just prior to Chelsea visiting and I finally figured out why last night. My bed is too big. I had been sleeping beside a body pillow that I stole borrowed from my mother to make the bad seem smaller, but didn't need it when Chelsea was here because we shared the bed and simply forgot about it after she left. My twin dorm bed with all my stuffed animals, comfy comforter, and extra blanket shoved against a wall  was a cocoon of sorts that I sorely miss. It was small and safe and perfect size for me + 5 stuffed animals.

Speaking of bed, mine is calling.

For Vinayaka

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/799907439/of-dice-and-men-southeastern-theatrical-pemiere

Hey click on that link....you know you want to. It'll be cool and stuff. People will love you and give you free ice cream.


......and remember kids, supporting the arts prevents forest fires.

Summer

Summer

The countdown has begun much like it did last year, but with more speed. I began numbering the days last summer, keeping track of how many days I had left until I could finally move to Atlanta, starting about June 10. Okay, so last year’s count down began on that exact day. This year, I’ve been savoring my summer, enjoying it for what it has been, uneventful and not very exciting and thus have not been keeping track of when I go to school….I didn’t even really know what day I get to move in until I looked it up yesterday morning. Three weeks from today I will have been in my new dorm room for two nights. Gah, last year it took forever to be this close to moving and I couldn’t wait to get there. I’m still very excited, but I’ll miss some parts of here like the Tin Top.

Speaking of which, I have to go to work in about an hour—technically I have to leave for work in about thirty minutes to make sure I don’t get caught in bad traffic. I really enjoy the people I work with:

Lacey and Jose, my fellow bussers

Greg and Phillip, the cool cooks

The oyster shucker whose name I do not know

Britney and Savannah, the hostesses

Robert, Lynn, Amanda and all the other cool (nice) servers

And last but not least

Nate and Vicky, my most interesting managers.

I will be sad to leave them and the new things I have been able to experience because of them.

That Fuzzy Feeling

I have never gotten to experience passing out or tunnel vision, but I do frequently suffer from a fuzzy head. No, I am not referring to the texture or appearance of my scalp with the term fuzzy head, but am instead referring to the phenomenon in which my brain stops working well or properly at all. Fuzzy head occurs only when one is trying to accomplish something their brain would rather not be doing. The more frustrating and seemingly impossible the intellectual task, the quicker and fuzzier the fuzziness sets in. However, it is not simply the minor frustrations of wondering if one is actually hungry or just bored and of struggling to understand Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury—no, it takes a great deal of annoying to cause it. 

Richard Hodges

There is always a debate going on about what to tell you. There are so many things I want to tell you though none of them together create a “blog.”

I apologize for the less than lovely writing that you have been reading—I normally write on my phone and cannot edit what I write on my phone because my phone will not let me. As someone who would like to be a writer I recognize that only writing about one thought per blog would be an exercise that would increase my writing ability.



I love my dad so very much and truly cherish the time I get to spend with him. Maybe the fact that I only see him only a hand full of times per year makes the time when we do sit down and talk more productive and just that much more special. Yesterday he and I met for breakfast and chatted for two hours in which he dealt with the fatherly issues he felt he needed to address, listened to me basically defend explain myself, and gave me some really great advice on life. A part of conversation was devoted to a person we both knew, someone who we felt was unwilling or unable to acknowledge a part of themselves. I expressed my disbelief that despite the use of clear logical arguments the person still refused to admit that in her situation if Y=Z and Z=X than Y=X must be true. Being the narcissist that I am, I couldn’t help but wonder out loud to my father if there is something about myself I refuse to admit to myself and others, but is clear to everyone else. Dad said, “We probably all have some aspect of ourselves whose existence we deny to the outside world as well as to ourselves.” He continued on to say that those things we refuse to admit can be either bad or good though he could think of nothing of the top of his head that I deny about myself.

My self-centered curiosity preoccupied my thoughts for most of the afternoon and I think is a tangent of my slightly obsessive interest in what my friends think about me and discuss about me outside of my presence. It isn’t that I’m completely concerned about being badmouthed or disliked, I just hear others speak of other’s flaws behind their backs but never bring it to their attention so the flaw can be fixed. I think I would try to fix a flaw if someone lovingly brought it to my attention—I’d actually rather do that than just aggravate all of my friends.

The phrase ‘be careful what you listen to because you just might hear something you don’t want to know’ comes to mind.

Anne and Harry's Wedding

Amongst the guests' chatter was an interesting conversation between an Aunt from his side and an Uncle from her side. The Uncle, who does not much care for family gatherings, maintained a quiet demeanor throughout the evening which was interpreted as an invitation from the Aunt, who has never found a time that did not require words, to remark freely on various aspects of the wedding. "What interesting vows the couple decided to deliver. I've never heard anything quite like them in all the weddings I have been lucky enough to attend. Surely it cannot be good luck to start off a marriage anticipating to not stay 'in love' with one another forever. Oh! And to say they cannot fulfill each other is simply silly. What else is marriage for but to fulfill the lives of the couple involved by providing each with their own, proper duties; the woman is fulfilled by her duties to her husband and children while the man is fulfilled through providing for his family. To think anything less is almost scandalous. I'm sure they won't be married long...I mean, I wish them the best of luck, but it seems unlikey to last."
The uncle responded with a non-comittal grunt, which the Aunt saw as affirmation of her beliefs,that inspired the old woman to elaborate on what would be perfect wedding vows, vows she would have said at her own wedding.... if she had ever married.

I think a peice of fiction will be coming the next time i sit down at a proper computer.

Here is the story of a girl:
Chelsea is a girl who worries about her hair and gets extremely excited about life, harry potter, harry potter, and oh did I say harry potter? This girl happens to be one of my sisters whom I got to know while studying. (I'm pretty sure we laughed more than we actually studied.) Before I really got to know her, we were going through membership classes with our sorority. During one of the ice breakers we played, we were asked to describe something or another and when it came my turn to describe something I said DFTBA and threw up nerdfighter hands. Chelsea's excitement at seeing a fellow nerdfighter revealed her for who she really was, a dork who watched the Vlogbrothers channel on Youtube. I think we were friends from that moment.

Chelsea's excitement beings great joy to my life. It reminds me of a day I was so excited to see Owl City and someone told me I needed to calm down. But why if you are excited about something do you need to calm yourself? Chelsea embodies a spirit that encourages everyone to be excited and to display there excitement. Around her I am free to be as excited and joyful as I want without having to "calm myself" for fear of being obnoxious.

She is wonderful.

She encourages me to be more positive, to be happier, to complain less, and to over exaggerate more.

She makes my heart happy and let's me aggravate her in the middle of the night.

She called me weird, but I guess that is what I get for decking her in the face in my sleep.

To my thirteen year old self.

I know you are so joyful to have finally escaped the horrific realm of middle school to enter what you think will be fun, high school. You already understand that those who say high school was the best time of their lives are not like you, or rather you get that you are different from them. Keep in mind that doesn't make you better than them.

Working hard is great, I encourage it. Do not put forth so much effort into your work at school or with your many munchkins that you forget to have fun. Live on the wild side every once in a blue moon. Roll someone's car.

We both know friends have always been a problem for you but dressing like an emo kid really isn't going to help you make friends. Keep in mind that black eyeliner isn't for everyone, like yourself, and that avril/ ashley simpson/panic at the disco are not the best role models. I know you look up to them, but it is much better to be your crazy, weird, and wonderful self than to attempt to mold yourself into the perfect punk princess image. You needn't stress so much over what you look like.

Sorry for being a spoil sport, but there won't be any boys in the picture for a loooonnnggg time so you might as well stop wasting your brain energy on crushes. Don't sweat the lack of male attention either, it will only distract you from the important things and besides you know you're wonderful and loved. Thus, you don't need a guy to tell you so.

If I remember correctly, this is the year in which you're struggling a lot with friends, your family, and the church. Friends will enter into your life bringing great love and joy but they will also leave. Understand that sometimes it is good, healthy even, to grow apart from someone and learn to be okay with it. Neither your friends nor your family define who you are. Do what is right and honest to the best of your abilities. When that isn't enough for your family, don't beat yourself up when you can't be apart of their lives anymore. Sometime separation can be for the best. Just like your friends and family, the church is also made up of imperfect, hypocritical humans who have a talent for corrupting the things the touch. Don't stop praying, spending time with God, and questioning the world around you even though you may witness humans' ability to corrupt something good.

You're thirteen, you basically know everything and are on top of the world, right? Ha! Don't be afraid to ask for help, everyone needs help from time to time. Needing help doesn't make you weaker, it is wise of you to recognize when you truly do need assistance and it is courageous to look for it.

You are beloved, never forget. Everything really does work out for you who are fearfully and wonderfully made--everything works out for the best.

Lastly, don't forget: life IS the messy bits.

Should stealing another's words warrant loosing one's life? What does it mean exactly to plagarise, not by Ogle standards, but by national and international law standards? I was reading this essay by Malcolm Gladwell in which a play write 'stole' words from Gladwell and the life of a psychotherapist to write an incredible work of art, the play Frozen. Gladwell explains that the woman who's personal details made up a lot of the play felt like she had her identity and her life stolen from her. Her claim made sense. She was a famous serial killer specialist who received multiple phone calls and email telling her this play was about her. The only problem with is she had never heard of the play. Gladwell explained the situation in such a manner that I couldn't help but sympathize with the woman who felt stolen from. interestingly enough, Malcolm also says that although the play write 'stole' words from one of Malcolm's essays, Malcolm didn't feel like he had been stolen from. Several direct sentences were even used. Gladwell argues that the play write used what was legally Malcolm's intellectual property to make a piece of art that connected Malcolm's words to a bigger, better picture. I agree with Malcolm when he says our society has become a little too zealous on intellectual property right and that our societal possessions on those right should be reevaluated.

There is a distinction, I think, between what that play write did with Malcolm's words and the other woman's life story. Likewise, I think there is also a different in what the play write did between stealing from Gladwell and someone using a history book to write another history book.

Either way it isn't hard to tell the world where you got piece of information, and thus, not cheat.

Waffle House Adventures

Walking out of the house with Chelsea in the middle of the night gave tonight the feel of summer. Every summer I can remember before I turned thirteen I "snuck" out in the middle of the night with my brother and two of our dear friends to go on what we named 'night walks'. I put "snuck" in quotation marks because my brother and I weren't really sneaking anywhere; our guardian knew we were walking around at night on an island that had nothing but a few homes on it. Our night walks were a great way for us to feel rebellious without being in any real danger. The constellations and meteorites we saw on those nights were the clearest and most beautiful I have ever seen in the night sky. The memory of those nights I doubt will ever leave me nor I hope leave my island family. It must be the lurking love in my heart for our island adventures that made my midnight adventure with chelsea turn from a normal, although awesome night into a true, summer night filled with a sense of wonder and mystery. Instead of quietly walking down dusty roads with familiar faces, we left the house with Wizard Rock blaring to meet someone I had never met. Our Waffle House conversation was most interesting and the fare was quite edible, that is until we found out that the establishment had a 67 health rating. My poor stomach could be currently hurting because I know of the bad health rating or something in the chocolate chip waffle and water I consumed had bacteria/ roach feces in it. Great thought. What was best, other than being with wonderful people, was rolling out of the parking lot where employees were taking their breaks with my bug's windows down blaring "like its quidditch"--a remix of "like a G6".

Company

I have company and it is wonderful. I've gotten little sleep, but I've also had ihop, listed to wonderful music (ohmygosh wizard rock and timelord rock are wonderful), watched Deathly Hallows pt2, bought sticky notes, ate the best dinner and watched Company. Company is a really cute musical about relationships. After watching it I can't help but long even more so for marraige though the musical has also made me more fearful of the commitment involved. I like having company around:) though having someone here from Ogletown is odd, a collision of worlds. What happens when worlds collide? I think I live in three worlds and I'm not sure what I think about them combining, whether it would be a good or bad thing. though I quite enjoy Ogletown coming here to the beach and my lovely "hometown" friends coming to Oglecity.

Embarrassed No More.

Once upon a time, this odd person named krista decided working at a restaurant for extra money was a good idea because school and being alive is expensive. After brain storming with a few other people places that were nicer so that the tips would be higher, we, the collaborative brain, came up with the Tin Top. I applied to be a server and was told I could be a servers assistant. I who am always nervous at interviews heard they were offering me a job and immediately said yes without think what exactly I would be doing. I would be a busser, the most disgusting and dirty job in a restaurant. I will admit I was embarrassed of my job in the beginning of working there. I almost felt like it was beneath me, but knowing that I'm not too good to do anything I made a bargain with myself. I couldn't quit until I got over the warped concept that I was too good to do the job.

Now though, I don't want to quit. The work is hard, sweaty, and leaves me feeling and looking disgusting, but I kind of like it. I've gotten to know some of the people I work with and I kinda like them. The highlight of my weekends have been hanging out with a bunch of old men, cooks and oyster shuckers, in the parking lot while they drink beer and I stand there giggling at them.
They are really a hoot and I learn things from their stories that I otherwise probably wouldn't ever know. It is an interesting, if different, education. I like working there with the people although I don't personally want to make a career out of it. That doesn't mean it isn't a good career for someone else though like Lacey for instance. She works hard to support herself and kids, seems to enjoy herself, and is loved by the managers. It seems to be a good enough career for her.

I suppose working at the place has allowed me to see through the eyes of the people who work in restaurants, to step into their metaphorical shoes. I understand them a little better. I'm not embarrassed to work there anymore. (Granted the last time I thought about and said that a bunch of people I graduated with came in and I was mortified.) I'm over that now.

At least it way day 131. Please, judge away.

Day 131.

Call me a schizophrenic, but God talks to me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hear random objects calling me, leading me towards them, only to find out there is a booming voice coming out of a shrub that is on fire, literally flaming, without burning. Most of the conversations I have with God are extremely one sided in which I complain, cry, ask, beg, attempt negotiations, and sometimes just chat. I think I don’t hear responses back very often because a) God doesn’t negotiate that I’ve found, b) I don’t wait for him/her to talk very often, and c) I just don’t listen very well. I receive what I ask for most of the time that I as for the right things, too. Example: asking for a fancy car, a new bed set, a boyfriend, or a big house all for myself are not quite the right things to ask for (at least for me anyways. Maybe you’re different. I think it matters where your heart is…mine would not be in the right place if/when I ask for anything in the previous list.) When I ask to be comforted or held, most of the time I am. Though I have to admit that there are also times when I ask for what seem to be the right things, and it doesn’t seem like my prayers are being answered. Hmm, I swear I’m a difficult case for God because nothing makes me more angry than when I’m upset about something, I purposefully reject the comfort I know I can find in God, and then he/she goes and comforts me anyways. It makes me feel loved, but you know those times when you just want to be alone and those who comfort you seem to make it worst? I did something once, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The comfort struggle that I just described happened between God and I. It made me mad then, brought more tears out of my eyes, because I was so angry at him/her, angry that in order to choose God I had to give up something. I gave it up, but I didn’t give up my anger at God for a really long time so the hurt from giving the something up lasted years. I’m not sure what would have happened that night if God hadn’t comforted me, he basically told me that night that he was “by my side” while I was going through the agony, that he would experience the pain with me and love me through it. Now, I’m glad God did that even though I tried to ignore him hard core with an ice cold shoulder. (note to self: if you had gotten over your anger, it probably wouldn’t have hurt so bad for so long. Have a little faith.) You see, now I understand and/or can see why giving that thing up was a good thing for me. I wouldn’t have been able to see it than, but in retrospect I can and I’m thankful for God asking me to give it in an odd way.

That was a long time ago and this, this is day 131, an interesting day in which I heard from God again. Guess what he had to say? Well our conversations are slightly (mostly) cynical on my side, involving many inappropriate religious jokes, which I’m sure she/he appreciates greatly…  If I can remember the tone of her/his responses, they were quiet loving, but extremely dry and at one point I feel like the tone was sarcastic. That, however, is beside the point. The gist of the conversation was the important part.

I was driving in my car from store to store looking for bedroom curtains to match the new comforter I got, and I was begging God to tell me what to major in so I wouldn’t have to make the decision myself and complaining at him for not telling me or saying anything about my major when he had plenty to chat with me regarding what I was doing with my life on Sunday. Once I was done complaining I was quiet for a little while again going through my options of what I could do, medical school or major in psych through a PhD. Lately I have been leaning towards medical school just because I feel like there would be more security—if I couldn’t get a job doing what I wanted to as a psychiatrist I could work in a different medical fieldish. I was telling God about that and how there were more options and that is what I should do, right? No response. So in my further attempt to gain approval for this plan I concocted, I was explaining to her why it was the options were important: so I can get a good job, and make enough money to get that apartment/condo all by myself and live by myself and be self-sufficient….  Even if God hadn’t choose to speak at this moment, I think/hope I would have realized something wrong with the picture. Anyway he basically told me to surrender my dream to him, not trust him to let it happen, but give it up. “Can’t I have any dreams?!?” I exclaimed. “Ya, the ones I give you.” “Well than why don’t you give me one!?! You just took the only one I had. What am I going to focus on and work towards and hope for now?!?” “My kingdom.”  How is that for an interesting conversation? I’m honestly still debating if I want to be mad about that conversation, but I know it would just be a waste of time and that I need to have a little bit more faith in someone who knows just a bit more that I do. I guess I could choose my apartment dream over God, but then I wouldn’t really be happy. I love God a little too much to deal with the separation I feel when I walking outside of his expressed will for me.

So I would love to sound like that smart Christian who understands everything, but that would be a tad pretentious and pompous of me.  I’m not really quite sure what all of that means or if the theology is even accurate…..its just what I heard, so ya, let’s hope it lines up with proper theology. What does that even mean, “ya, the ones I give you.” Surely it isn’t a bad thing to have dreams and whatnot that didn’t arise from “divine revelation.” I often dream of a certain type of food and look forward to eating it with in the not too distant future—I doubt there is anything wrong with that. (I swear I’m crazy.) I guess, maybe it means I am not supposed to build my life around dreams I come up with for myself out of the blue….I’ve been dreaming about that apartment since I was in the second grade, no joke. Ugh, but the idea of self-sufficiency that that apartment for me represents goes against Christian theology anyways. We’re supposed to be dependent on God. (I’m not too good at that one, but I’m working on it….. … .. … ..) Hmm, after writing that maybe it is the dream of self-sufficiency that I’ve had since I was in second grade, since that apartment has represented freedom from my parents’ fights and from moving all the time, that God really wants me to surrender to him.

Sweet, hope for the apartment after all! ….just kidding.

Yes, I know that I’m crazy. Feel free to take me to a consultation for anti-psychotics. I would giggle if I was really prescribed them. I’m sorry this blog is so long. I wrote it—even though I was originally going to talk about the different kinds of hot dogs around the word and how I really dislike the typical Chicago hotdog—because I just really wanted to make sure I remember that it happened. 

Day 131.

Day 131 was written on my computer, but there isn't wifi at my current location. I may post it tomorrow. Please don't judge me--it isn't nice.

Chocolate Milkshakes

What makes a night better than consuming a chocolate milk shake someone else made and spending time with your best friends? Duh, the answer is obviously finding out that guy who you've had a crush on for years likes you. But that didn't happen. Caitlin, Daniel, and I consumed our creamy chocolate and watched How To Train A Dragon, one of the cutest movies I've seen in a long time. I've decided I want a dragon for my birthday, preferably one with whom I can fly though I'd be happy with any dragon. Tonight was a good night.

Oh Those Funky Days

While there are quite a few definitions for the word 'funk' between traditional dictionaries and urban Dictionary, there tends to overall be three meanings to the word. ( I just tries to see the entry for funk on OED, but was unable to find a free way to the site. Sad day.) Funk is a type of music, can describe the most lovely of stenches, and also is classified as a mood. All the definitions of funk in regard to it being a mood, describe it as a depressed mood. My question to the collection of dictionaries on the Internet is why funk cannot represent a mood that is odd, irregular, and/or different from the norm?

I have had some funky days lately. No, they haven't smelled badly unless you consider the nights I work at the restaurant and these past days haven't been filled with interesting music or depression. Sunday, though filled with challenging thoughts, was a day of good funk. It felt like this mood had settled over me, over the world, my world, but instead of depression settling over everything there was this calm and quiet peace. Not a day blinded by the sun's heavy heat or violently beaten by a storm's fury, but a full day of dawn's haze that is both sunny and cloudy, warm after the chill of night and cold before the afternoon heat. This funk has not yet left since that morning.

Along with the funk has come a quietness. I am not sure if the quietness brought the funk or if the funk brought the quietness, but it is here nonetheless. I have had people to talk to, several long and lovely conversations, people to work with, voices to read in thoughtful books, though this quiet calm persists. It is not bad or completely good, just different, just funky.

Convictions

If you are reading this and know me outside of this blog, you ought to be aware of the fact that I am, for a lack of a better word, religious. If reading about God, faith, and all that jazz bothers you, please stop reading now. I have to admit I have been hesitant to write on such topics because out of those who follow my blog none share my beliefs, but, alas, I write for myself supposedly.

This morning when I woke up I was overcome by the connotations of the question running through my mind-- What am I doing with my life? It wasn't so much that I was really wondering what it is I am actually doing, but more me using a saying a picked up from Chelsea to chide myself for doing things I know better than to do. It wasn't one of those I ate to many twinkies while on a diet type of chiding. No, this one was of a little more depth and seriousness. This morning I went to church. It was nice. The sermon was from a missionary who was energetically talking about his work in Tanzania. Thus, I wasn't sitting on the edge of seat taking detailed notes about what a piece of scripture meant. Instead I sat there, absorbing what he was talking about and selfishly thinking about myself. It was a great time of reflection. A lot of what the missionary said played as a backdrop to my thoughts, weaving through my brain with relevant information that helped me along my thought process. This is what I realized:

I've been living a rather pointless life lately that has been focused on myself instead of the thing that it should be focused on: God. I struggle a lot with my faith, honestly, not because I doubt that their is a God, but because feel it is important to not always assume I understand what exactly the bible is trying to communicate. Needless to say I have a lot of arguments with myself, the world, and God about what things are, what they mean, and ya. Anywho, there is a scripture that talks about how everything in life and the world is worth nothing next to God, her kingdom and all that jazz. (yes, I just used the pronoun her and I will rotate pronouns her and him because 'it' doesn't specify life form and I don't think God has a specific gender. How 'bout them apples?) I actually wrestled with this concept for a few months because if nothing else is important, why am I going to college or working? I simply couldn't believe going to college and working wasn't important, and I didn't think that was what the verse was trying to convey. I'm not sure if I understand it perfectly, but in krista speak it means that we do things like school, work, and play here, on earth, because they are important, but they don't hold real importance outside of the spiritual, religious, relationship with God area. Does that make sense? You're probably saying no, but, I'm sorry, it will just have to work. Feel free to ask me about it in person or via skype if you want a better explanation. So as I was sitting in church by my lonesome, I was thinking about how my life has been me centered instead of God centered. Thus, there has been little or no importance in the things I have been doing. The things I do are only important when they are God centered. I think it isn't what I do that is all ways necessarily important, but the reason and motive behind the action that is important. Often though changing the motive changes the action, right? The religuous words for what I want to be are warrior and watcher, but if you aren't familiar with The Church those two words will sound silly to you, and for that I apologize. (There is so much inside lingo that it makes one sound even more crazy to everyone else who doesn't understand. What those words mean to me is that as a warrior I should love people enough to share what my faith with them, but NEVER EVER try to push them to believe what I do. As a watcher I should keep my motives God based. No, I'm not going to hijack a plane and blow up someone who believes something different than I because I think my holy text calls me to murder, but I am going to be friendly and loving to people because I know that they are important to God, that he loves them, and because he does, so should I. I so hope that makes sense.) I'm not good at this. I mean, I know very well that I should be living for her instead of myself, but I so often fall short of that mark. Hmmm, I guess that is what grace is for. This is my goal though to keep trying to reach that mark no matter how many times I fall short and/or make stupid decisions that afterwards have me thinking, "what am I doing with my life?" In that effort, I am currently working on changing my motives for, well, I guess, ........life in general. Let us see how well that works.

Assumptions

Before working at the restaurant tonight I was going to write about my agnsty questions about the world that no one really has an answer to. Normally I start work smiling, happy to be alive, and slowly anger at other's laziness which means that by the end of most nights my smile has turned into a scowl. The questions and angst created by the book I'm reading and certain life situations wasn't compatible with a smile, so I started work with a scowl today. I tired to be nice and sweet, but I wasn't happy with the world and didn't feel like pretending. However, by the end of the night I was smiling and laughing, chatting with my coworkers and enjoying their company. The dishwashers got into a water fight with the hoses that I was caught in the middle of and was thankfully able to get out of. Grown men with dish hoses acting like ten year olds with water balloons is one of the funniest thing I've seen in a long time. One of the guys played a song I love on the radio just because and stood up to the others for me, telling them not to talk to me like that. I didn't hear what the other dishwasher said, but it was clear the Bruce was sticking up for me; he kept telling the others guys when they came in the dishroom talking about sexual things to not speak so ugly in front of me. It was very respectful and sweet though none of the other guys were trying to be disrespectful. My co-busser is sweet and likes harry potter. I asked him because of Chels but then I remembered he was only seventeen...he likes harry potter though:) My favorite hostess was working and in between busy times we bonded over Harry Potter (I was telling her about Chels becuase I'm so excited and when I mention us going to see HP and how excited I was, she said I went up in cool points). We bonded over our dating experiences which are suprisingly similar...we started dating at the same time...odd. Most of the servers did their jobs clearing plates which made my life easier. So you're probably wondering what in the world assuming things has to do with this blog. Well, although I didn't choose the title for this reason, it fits well because of it: I assumed tonight would be a bad night and it was really quite wonderful. One of my co-workers offered to fix my car for me--a headlight is out- and another invited me to go to the office with the group of them. I politely declined because The Office is a bar and I've never been to a bar with a group of people and I'm not sure if I do that kind of thing just like I don't write run on sentences like this really long one. Maybe I should have gone and made new friends with them or maybe I should stay wholesome me and continue to go home after work. I'm not sure what I want to do assuming I ever get invited again. :) I was so pleased to be invited....maybe I shouldn't car so much if people like me or not. Other assumptions did occur tonight--one that usually really aggravate me. One customer asked me a question to which I politely answerd and gained the response, "you're not from here, are you." Never a question, even with the 'are you' tagged on the end, but always a statement. He didn't believe me when I said I was from the area and wasn't satisfied until I told him I was originally from Seattle. Normally people assuming I'm a yankee, even if it is correct, bothers me so badly, but it didn't tonight. One of my coworkers that I'd only seen for the second time tonight assumed I was still in high school because of young I look. Again, another one of those assumptions that bothers me so, but this time it actually led to an interesting conversation. That coworker and I are actually the same age, both going to college, and studying similar things. That was cool. The dishwashers also assumed tonight that I was rich because I lived in Gulf Shores. GS is on average one of the wealthiest cities in the county, especially compared to Foley where I think they are all from. However, I am not wealthy. I was once when I lived in multi-million dollar homes, but that was a different time. I was happy then and I'm happy now despite the change in circumstance. While the guys were teasing me about having a lot of money, saying I didn't need to work and that my parents had loads of dough, I responded back in friendly banter that no, I'm not rich, and I don't have a big fancy house. When they continued to tease me, saying I lived on Ono Island (the wealiest neighborhood in our county), I replied back in friendly banter appropriate to the in good humour teasing that I once had lived on Ono, that my mom built multi-million dollar homes there where we lived. I ended that revelation by telling them we lived there until my mom declared bankruptcy, the homes were forclosed upon, and the banks took them back. Ha! They didn't know what to say because I was a)saying this back in a teasing manor, b) their assumptions would have been correct four years ago, and c) although they pegged my personality to the right background, their assumptions as to me right now were wrong. Hmmm, I haven't made up my mind on how I feel about them pegging me to a wealthy background, I mean I work hard so why can't I be from a neutral background? It really did make me giggle that they in friendly jest pegged me as to having a lot when in actuality I have very little. What will those guys think of me now, what assumptions will they make of my character and who I am because of the few details of my life that I have given them. Maybe it will make the girl who wears pearl earrings to do a menial and disgusting job seem a little bit more human and down to earth. Maybe everyone talks to me more now, and when I don't wear my pearls, becuase they assumed I was stuck up before because I wore simple pearl earrings. Then again, maybe they are just getting used to me... Let's face it, they can no longer deny my awesomeness and thus, must start talking to me because they are afraid of what will happen to their lives if they neglect the awesome that is Krista. I'm sure that is the exact reason why someone offered to fix my car..... Would it be wrong of me to take them up on it? Oh assumptions, how interestingly wrong and right can they be.

Day 124.

Work is a funny thing. Much of the advice in Proverbs regards work ethic, supporting hard work and advising against deceitfulness and laziness. Our society is supported by the labor of millions in different sectors who are often both lazy and deceitful, but those who do something in exchange for money, food, or drugs nonetheless. The funny thing is though that there is no specific formula that says if you work this much, you will make this much money or have this type of life style. I know plenty of people that work tirelessly and do not earn enough to support their families just as I know plenty of people who work tirelessly and have more than plenty for their families. Their are also those who don't work and don't have much just like their are those who don't work much and have more than enough. I have worked two jobs a summer for the past three summers and have always had enough, but not always plenty. A kid can only make so much baby sitting and working at a movie theater--my usual places of work. This summer has been a change, albeit a strange mix: an insurance agency and bussing tables. I work mostly because honestly I need the money. My family, excepting my grandmother, does not have a lot of money which makes paying for college a bit of a difficulty. My family as a whole has helped me a lot with school, making my education relatively burden-less so far compared to other's debt and what my own could be. My work this summer has prevented me from having much free time, but it isn't killing me into a constant tiredness that I am unable to shake. It is the first summer in the last three, the summers since I stopped going to the island, that my eye hasn't started twitching from exhaustion or stress of work. I babysat 3-4 young kids, playing with them and cleaning up after them, for about ten hours a day, five days a week, for about three months. I would also pick up night time and weekend shifts at the movie theater for extra cash though I didn't have much energy and am now thinking that my exhaustion while working there last summer could be the reason why I never want to work there again. On top of those two jobs, I stayed up late and woke up early texting. I've often felt bored and painfully lonely this summer because a) I'm not working as much or as difficult of jobs and b) I am not texting someone all the time. Living in this season and comparing it to the same one I experienced last year is so strange. Not only were my jobs so different, but my worries and thoughts have so changed. I feel foolish for wasting so much energy on those worries I used to have and wonder if I will one day feel the same about the worries I have today. I once wrote a facebook note that I am contemplating removing because I no longer feel the angst about work that I did when I wrote it. Our lives, as I wrote about, follow a circular pattern around work. We work hard to get good grades, to get into good schools, to get good jobs, so our children can be supported and get good jobs. We work so we can work so our offspring can work. Maybe their is more to the labor cycle than I am acknowledging or am aware of, but at one point in time, this cycle of sorts felt rather pointless and stupid to me. Overcome with the desire to break free of its greedy fingers, I wrote about trying to bend it into something else though I acknowledged even then the impossibility of doing so. I don't mind it so much anymore, work that is. ( I'm still bugged by my inability to break the cycle.) Work seems pleasurable now, it prevents me from being bored and gives me an outlet to interact with people that I other wise wouldn't have. In fact, sometimes it is easier and more pleasant to work than it is to play. I'm afraid I often do not know what to do with myself when I have free time, time to romp around the world with gaiety and do nothing but what I want. Don't make fun, but one of the books I have been reading, while it is based on religious principles, talks about regaining freedom from the trap that is the cycle of productive work. In essence, a part of the book tries to encourage people to play and be totally unproductive every once in a while just because, not all the time, but every once in a while. I have found it harder to do that then it is to work myself to an eye twitch.

Day 123.

One, two, three--that makes me giggle. When opening a can of atrichoke hearts or any type of can good, I would suggest you not slice a finger or thumb on the sharp metal edge of the lid. However, the unpleasantness of such a cut can be delightfully overcome by anit-bacterial medication and a Hello Kitty bandage. There is something about fixing a meal with someone and eating together while talking about the world, your lives, and all that is the worls that really makes me happy. I'm not sure if spending time in a kitchen with someone brings joy to my life because that is how I have spent a great deal of time with my family through out my life or if it is just beacuse I enjoy it. The food always tastes better when cooked by a few people chatting with each other too. Unless it is Lindsey and I trying to make Pad Tai;that is just plain disgusting...not the dish but the dish cooked by L and myself. Despite my bandaid and the lovely cooking activity of the night, there are better things to come than an average night in the boringly calm life that is mine. My Chelsea is coming to visit me in a week and I am so excited for all the scadalous activities two old women can find to do. Maybe we will just go completely bonkers and spend an entire day in Barnes and Nobels. Scandalous, I know. That's just how we role. Much cleaning must occur within this next week. Unfortunately, in my current household of three no one likes to clean. In fact all of us despise cleaning and have developed the ability to pretend messes don't exisit. Well, at least two of us can. The third, my mother, notices them after a while and will freak out about anything that could potentially attract bugs. Which I guess is great because I don't really want any pets living in our house with us unless they are at least the size of a dog. Speaking of pets, tommorrow is the first night this week I'll be at the restaurant. After being included in some of the comraderie that occurs between the employees there I can't help but to hope that it could happen again tomorrow night. Every day is a bonus, right?

Day 122.

Well I had an interesting evening of sorts and I would call and tell someone about it, though who do I have to call other than my girls... Anywho, I'm a little mad and I want to talk about it. The story may not make sense because I'm not even sure if I know where it begins, if it makes sense, and what it really says about myself and the others implicated. I have to start somewhere so I may as well start with myself. Up until this past year I decided I wasn't into the dating scene, but also refused to let my heart full of love go to waste. Accordingling, in my own way I loved those around me and felt no qualms in sharing with my friends, both girls and guys, that I loved them. With my boys it could be odd because my love could be mistaken for romantic love, but you see I'm not the kind of girl that falls in love with a guy. So I would love the guy as my friend instead and would only tell them I loved them if the were truly just my friend. That detail really wasn't important though now you have it anyways.tonight I saw a friend I hadn't seen since christmas time. She was one of my best friends all through out high school. My two other best friends from back then I have kept in touch with, but not really this third one. (Three best friends? Weird I know, but we were really the four amigos and it was wonderful.) Well out of the two I stayed in contact with, I lived with one and the other and I made a mutual effort to keep in contact although we rarely talked or saw each other. Thus, we grew without the other watching constantantly. This, I must admit, created a bot of a shock in me whenever I would get together with her and see how much she'd grown. I was always pleased, though. I enjoyed seeing my friend whom I loved dearly turn into, and grow into this spectacular person who was somehow the same but different. Being the softy I am, I had tears of joy in my eyes a time or two when I'd tell her how much she'd grown and how much I missed her. The change was a bit startling at first. But a good change and a good startling. It wouldn't have been right any other way. Well back to the third old best friend that I saw tonight. Caitlin and I went over to her and her boyfriend's new apartment to see her and chat. As we were leaving Caitlina nd her exchanged 'love yous,' while I had the distinct thought that I'm not saying that. It wasn't because I didn't care about the chick anymore, I simply feel like I no longer know who she is. How can I love someone if I don't know who they are? I guess I'm mad that I don't know her, that she has changed so much I can't recognise my best friend. Maybe I'm mad because I wonder if it is me who has changed so much. Maybe I'm mad because she has become "extremely close" to another girl in the area we went to school with but can't be botherd to call the people who were her best friends. The thought that she may have more in common with the new close friend than us makes me mad too. How could we have changed so much as to not have anything in common anymore. The thought just won't go away...how could I not know her anymore? I'm also mad that she didn't seem to have any real interest in getting to know me again. That she would also judge me for being a virgin, wanting to stay a virgin until I get married, and being a prude(which I joke about and think is kinda funny) doesn't help to calm my anger. I suppose after making strong statements about "test runs" she did look at me, remember high school me, and retract her statement hastily. I thought maybe her opinions of would-be virgins was so strong because she felt I may be judging her, so I said,"hey, I'm not juding you. Please don't judge me." Of course she quickley replied she wasn't, but she already had judged me. Her retraction, her reassurance of non-judgementalism, were just attemps to not offend and/or hurt. I'm made that the first night I see her in months she has a bunch of other people over too and would rather chat with them than Caitlin or I. Could she not see the look on Caitlin's lovely face? How could she put meat into the pasta without thinking to ask her best friend if she wanted some and save some without meat because her best friend is a vegetarian. How could she so easily forget someone who's mind she was once able to read and understand? I guess I'm mad that people can grow apart from one another. I guess I'm mad at the way someone has been treated. I guess I'm mad that I can't tell her I love her because I wouldn't mean it. I suppose I'm also angry about what that consequentaly says about me and my love for others although I don't want to think about what that may or may not mean. In some ways I have a lonley life and my friends are the only ones I have to love. So gosh darn it, I'm going to love them even if that love may be imperfect.

Day 121.

After spending the last hour sitting on my couch at home reading the Thought Catalogue on Facebook via my phone, I've decided that I really should get a life. Would not a lively life, and/or night life, keep me from posting articles on friends' walls and posting one on my brother's wall in a small attempt to childishly get back at him for teasing me so much lately? Would it not also make work more difficult in the morning? So maybe liveliness isn't all it is cracked up to be in popular culture. At the beginning of the summer this dull and boring life was almost a little two much for a girl who had been going ninety miles an hour every day, every week for quite some time. It seems as though the art of relaxing is harder to practice than it should in theory be. On second thought it may have been the loneliness instead of the relaxation that made the beginning of summer almost unbearable. Tehe, there were no bears. Having a bear or too would have surely made life more intersting..... Though I think there is something to be said for the quiet that makes one think and reflect on life, the crazy people life contains, what has happened, and what could potentially happen. It does however become a problem when examining the past turns you into a creepy stalker and/or serial killer. (Personally I have no problem if you kill cereal, but you know, what evs.) Who knows what revelations can be found in the murky details that is both your past and my past. Quick, what where you doing a year ago today? Hmm, I'm pretty sure I was chillin with my brother and close friends, shelby, sarah, and spencer, on Decauter Island in the Washington State San Juan Islands. There was probably a large amount of alcohol consumed by our group, though I'm not sure if I participated or not. There was most likely a camp fire somewhere that one of us attended. The day was probably long. I would have woken up before everyone else to text someone in a different time zone, then participated in a day of sunshine, walking, and swimming with everyone else only to stay up later then everyone else texting the same person in a different time zone. There would have been a mid-day nap on a couch, my brother's amazing vegan food and strange music, and a lot of quiet time shared by myself or with michael or spencer, both of whom may have well be called my brothers. That night, well the whole week actually, was quietly and peacefully busy. For the first time in my life I had a bed buddy, meaning spence and I shared a king sized bed most nights. It was great, I didn't have to cuddle or be cute with anyone AND I didn't have to sleep alone. Best. Combo. Ever. I miss spencer. Anyways that day was wonderful, I bet I ate my weight in food and swam/walked/played tennis so much it al the calories just disappeared into thin air..... Okay, so maybe my pants were not wanting to fit by the end of the week, but that is not my point. In the face of days that seem backwards or those days when you go to the dentist's office and they stick needles in your face and cause your boss to send you home because the laughing gas they gave you so they wouldn't have to deal with you made your head too light to work properly.....on those days it is nice to remember the quiet days. In the face of slower seasons, it is nice to remember that joy is found in quiet slowness as well as loud business and every variable in between.

Day 120.

I do not understand the world. That, however, is besides the point of the slightly random rant to follow. Please note that tonight is the first time in almost a week that I am posting from an actual computer and not my cellular device. Anyways...  Today has just been one of those days, you know? One of those days when the things that are supposed to go right turn left instead and the things you expect to go wrong don't. I've always wondered what people say about me behind my back, what character flaws others can see in me so easily though I myself am blind to them. My mother decided to tell me show me some character flaws that I may or may not have this morning during one of our rare fights. (we hardly ever fight, but when we do...Oh boi.) When the not nice things were being said about me my first reaction was to start a defense and completely reject her opinion as that of someone who contains the same flaws she was pointing out in me. It is a difficult thing, I have found, to let down my pride in order to receive proper criticism from someone else, to recognize my errors as errors, and, consequently attempt to change. It took me a while after being in a huff about my mother's and my conversation to realize all my mother was telling me was the character flaws I wish my friends had the courage to tell me instead of talking about them behind my back. (Granted I'm not sure my friends talk about me behind my back and I'm sure not all do, but I have heard some of my friends talk badly about mutual friends behind their backs and I am not naive enough to assume they wouldn't do the same thing to me.) Gah, I really hate being humbled and having to admit, which I was able to after calming down and talking to a neutral person who would have sided with me, that my mother may have been on to something about my behavior and that I really should work to change it. Ah, if only perfection was possible....I guess I could always be a sea shell. They are beautifully imperfect though occasionally if no one breaks it you can find a perfect one. That was a an unfortunate left turn. I have been slightly concerned about how money was going to come together for school this year because a couple donors to the 'education fund de krista' had bailed, thus creating a left turn circle. Well today I went to go pick up a small donation from a large donor who had decided to go a different route then originally expressed only to find out the donor had a change of heart and went back to what had originally been planned. I am not complaining one bit, but when a supposed left becomes a quick right, it can throw you tires and/or day for a little loop. It was nice though and now I can be only barely concerned instead of slightly concerned because I'm Krista, I can't simply not worry. Although my turns have been screwy all day long I do believe I came to a dead end this evening. We, as in my family and some family friends, went to the beach this evening to see the annual fireworks show that the city hosts. It was nice and stuff but I couldn't help but want to share it with someone. Yes, I was with family but my parents are not my sisters. You see, doesn't it just seem proper to hold someones hand while gazing up at a sky and watching fireworks? So i guess the fireworks were a lovely show, but a lonely dead end none the less. Longing has to be an okay thing if its healthy and doesn't lead one to become a creepy stalker. What is it about looking up at the monstrous night sky that makes a human long for a connection with another human? Do other mammals or animals feel the same? Hmm, isn't technology supposed to make us feel more connected with one another? Texting is an evil addicting practice that should have an etiquette handbook like phone calls have though I believe the rules of phone call etiquette is passed via word of mouth. One for texting and initiating conversations should exist, or maybe I should just learn it and/or turn my phone off. Rant!

Day 119.

Pinky. When Caitlin and I went over to Daniels' house to watch a movie, he decided to address me by a name other than the one that is mine;thus, creating a nickname I feel will never die--pinky. Caitlin's response to this word was to burst into uncontrolable laughter saying, "its funny becuase it is true!".to fully appreciate their laughter at my expense, it is neccissary to know that I spent all day on the beach, an island with no shade to be exact. I spent a good portion of my timr floating in the water on a blow up thingy-ma-bob without having previously applied sunscreen. ....one of my wiser decisions. Needless to say I was burned to a crisp and now look like a strawberry. On the upside, I am no longer the same shade as a ghost. But my skin does hurt pretty much everywhere. Well hopefully I'm not the only person om this planet that likes strawberries.

Day 118.

I just wrote a long and mind blowing blog, but my web browser deleted it. Moral of the story: first impression often have to be rethought. Read pride and prejudice. I'm being less anti-social at work and even hung out with the boys after work tonight for a few minutes. End of story.

Day 117.

There have been a surprisingly large number of ideas appearing in my head lately that seem perfect blog topics. Although I have had three or four today about Pokemon, using a dog to cheat at hide and seek, and other strange occurrences, I think I'll choose to share the most morbid one with you. Well, some call it morbid and/or dark, completely inappropriate for polite company, but I find this topic, death, fascinating in a non-suicidal type of way. the pain associated with most deaths frightens me for I am not by any stretch of the imagination a fan girl of pain; however, death itself doesn't seem to bad. It seems like a fantasy journey to a mystical land, one big adventure that holds great potential and fun. More specifically, I have been lately more thoughtful and interested in one's, people in general and my own, living and last will and testament. After hearing The Band Perry's beautiful song via FM radio on the way home from baby sitting, now seems as good of a time as ever to write both my living will, which I have meant to do for quite some time, as well as the other one people fight over so much after a rich person dies. Breaking into this account wouldn't be that hard for any computer savvy person, so needless to say this won't be much a legal document though at least I will have left instructions for someone if they really want them and/or if they can find them...... (Because I totally advertise this blog a lot.....) Anyways, here you are world:

Living will: I do not want to be a vegetable lying around helpless, with little or no brain function. If you refer to the above paragraph you will notice that I am okay with dying so if for some unfortunate accident I am on life support and the doctors think there is little chance of reviving me, please let me go, pull the plug--I promise I will not hold such a merciful action against you. If I have lost my mind and my body is naturally fading, please let my body go without any heroic efforts to revive me. I will ask for the same treatment if my mind is in its proper place. Do not hesitate to use the double-effect with morphine or any other pain relieving medication. I AM afraid of pain and would like to not experience it if that is at all possible unless that pain is helpful existential pain..... While this short and vague living will may not guide a potential plug-puller in all situations, hopefully it can give him or her a good enough idea of my wishes to assist them with their difficult decisions. 

Last will: Firstly, I have no money so any greedy persons, yes you, interested in any money I may have can stop reading at this point. (If in the odd case I do ever gain money, I'll come up with a later plan as what to do with it. It is not now an issue.) If the person in charge of my funeral is short on cash, please, just cremate me and put me in a cheap jar, let it be done simply. I frankly don't care if you throw me to the wind, dump me in the water, bury my jar in the ground, or give me to waste management. If by any chance a coffin can be arranged, which I must admit I would slightly prefer, DO NOT let the stupid funeral home stuff me full of chemicals and DO NOT purchase an expensive or metal coffin. I would very much like to look dead, be chemical free, and be placed in a wood coffin that would dissolve into the ground and allow worms to crawl through my eye sockets. (I won't be able to use them, so why not let the bugs?) If I am buried and you would rather not bury me naked, I would prefer to wear a white summer dress, no wedding dresses or stripper attire please. Underwear is optional, I won't really care though if I were to croak over right now I would say go without underwear......to much of a hassle. Not to be picky or anything but I would like pearls around my neck and my Sigma badge pinned on my dress. No shoes, please. I also do not see any reason for anything special to be done with make up or hair-- I don't like doing either now, so why when I die? I honestly do not care where I would be buried, marked or unmarked, but just that I could dissolve into the ground and be beneficial to plants and bugs. Psalms 23 should be read. Everyone should be told that I loved them even if I left them with angry words. All other details should be filled in to soothe anyone I may have left behind. (if someone didn't want to be left behind they could always drink the Flavor-Aid, but I would advise you that life is worth living. Water taste better anyways.) I hope there would be an after party of sorts with lots of assorted, pot-luck food where those who wanted to could mourn and everyone would remember me and then move on into healthy, productive, and loving lives. 

That is it :)

Day ?

I'm lying in bed typing this blog on my phone because I feel badley about not posting for two days in a row. I've spent yesterday and today doing to things: babysitting and working out. The kids have had my attention from eight in the morning to about seven at night. Well last night it was seven-thrity and tonight it was about six-thirty.... thus, my days have been full of sunshine, pooltime, and the most marvelous temper tantrums. Despite feeling like a maid and struggling to handle everything little ones can throw at a babysitter, I really do love them. they are my ducklings. I sat them all last summer, bonding with them and discovering just who they were. I got to know, understand them really, through trail and error while trying to work with and teach them. I can't help but to love all three of their personalities for their distinctness and wonderfulness. Okay, so I may have just lied to you. Technically, I have been watching four kids--the oldest is almost fourteen and I never watched him last summer. Thus, he and I have never "bonded". Well there is also the part where I extremely dislike him and every time I see if I kinda want to beat him up. Yikes, that is most definately not the thing you want to hear from a babysitter. Although I recognise my horribleness, I will justify myself by saying 1) he truly has one coming and 2) I am always as nice to him as I can be even when he lies straight to my face. Below the eldest boy in age are to other boys, fifth and thrid graders, and then a first grade girl.despite gender differences, I am most like the two boys in the middle, the fifth grader especially. He is extremely moral, which is completely opposite his older brother, and love to read. The boys and i have bonded quite a bit over Dragon Ball Z, Pokemon, and leggos. The three of us have had deep ( well as deep as two little boys are capable of) conversations about the world, saiyans, and zombies. The little girl is a piece of work and will drive all the boys nuts when she gets older. I mean I love her, but she isn't my type of girl, she isn't the kind of girl I am. I fully admit to being ridiculous but she is dramatic in a way I doubt she'll ever fully out grow. That is okay though because she is wonderful just the way she is. I understand her well, I think, though I'm not (personality wise) like her. The youngest boy is the one I understand the least and I'm not sue if it is because of a lack on my part, neglect, or because he is so quiet. Hmmm, the youngest girls is extremely demanding of attention and the fifth grader was really chatty too. I think the third grader is content to be quiet for the most part and I didn't spend as much time talking with him last year becuase he is quiet and undemanding, unless he want to show you a video game trick. I really enjoy him though. He and I worked on a leggo set, completely finishing the Prince of Persia set his brother had given him. I watched him and enfocrced the quiet he wanted when the other kids came in the room during a dart gun war. I much prefered the little one's quiet company, giving him occasional help when he needed it, to running around with the four other kids. (two boys came over to play, which was good. I just had six kids all day.) I love those kids and it warms my heart when they show me love in return my giving me hugs and wanting my attentions to show me things. Also, the youngest when given the opportunity to go somewhere said, "krista, I don't want to go....I haven't seen you in a year.". I couldn't help but to smile and tell her okay, you don't have to though I'll be here tomorrow and will be happy with whatever you choose. While I have no intentions of having a child anytime soon, days like today and yeasterday remind me how excited I am to have a family.