Thursday, March 30, 2006
Good morning, starshine, the earth says hello.
New quote [Allison Schmidt]: "Divorce is a four-letter word!"
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
A definite highlight from Spring Break: On the bus, Joe Belzer giving Derek Wilhelm a full-fledged wedgie. Awesome.
Anywho, here's my final semester class schedule EVER!:
12:30-1:20 ~ French 220: Intermediate French I
10:30-11:50 ~ Art 324: Renaissance Art
1:30-2:50 ~ English 498: Senior Seminar: Creative NonFiction
3:00-4:20 ~ PHRE 441: Hebrew Scriptures
I'm sad for the Truman "youngsters." Anyone two years or more younger than me will never experience the infamous Tunnel. Though it seems dreadful at the time, a ridiculous ordeal really, there's a certain charm to showing up at the back of McClain Hall 1st floor 45 minutes before your sign-up time, feeling the adrenaline rush as you pray that you get your classes, because if you don't, your proposed schedule will be a total flop. Oh, the bright orange walls and the purple carpeting! What nostalgia that comes with those memories! And you, who are too late, will never know the mad scramble for the first spot in line.
Ordinarily, I'm not the one to diss on the technological age... I rather like convenience. But nevertheless, I do lament the loss of some glorious traditions.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Change of subject.
I get frustrated when I'm patronized. Most of the time, they don't even know they do this, but I can sense it. It's easy to pet me and chuckle at my idiosyncrasies... I'm short and they can be cute. I understand that. But it can be hurtful, too. I may not necessarily look like I'm all grown-up, but the truth of the matter is that I'm 22. I'm, by any objective standards, a grown woman [insert terrified scream here]. Though the idea of being an adult makes me a bit weak in the knees, the truth remains that I want to be treated as such.
This is one of those things that occurs to me when my parents (whom I love very much) visit and I can see their treatment of me alongside of the few who do treat me as an actual equal... the ones who make me feel intelligent and like I might have something useful to add. They're few and far between, and perhaps that's why they're my favorite people. While my parents will try to bully me (unintentionally, I'm sure) into doing or acting certain ways, these people will share their views and listen to mine without criticism or even just "tolerance"... they seriously care about my stances. While my mom loves to answer any and all questions directed toward me, these people will let me have my say and let me speak for myself. These people will hug me as an equal--not the tucked under the arm type of hug, but the kind where we are on equal footing and equal embracing... and with firm lovingness (do you get what I mean? It's hard to put into words). People who are younger than me, significantly so, even often tend to be patronizing as well. I know I can act rather "quaint", and I really do want you to laugh when I'm being silly, but not in that "aww, how cute" type of way. Laugh because it's funny... not quaint. I'm not a puppy, I'm not a five-year-old, I'm not any of these things. If I must be a grown woman, fine. Just please do me the courtesy of giving me the respect that comes with the status. That's all I ask.
Thank you for your time, and your prayers, because I'm feeling very vulnerable right now.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Five Love LanguagesMy primary love language is probably
with a secondary love language being
Complete set of results
|Words of Affirmation:||6|
|Acts of Service:||4|
InformationUnhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.
Take the quiz
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
But tonight, on the phone with mom and dad, I realized that as much as my mom overreacts, she really can be the more understanding of the two. She's the one who realized that I need to grieve, talk and not be interrupted, and just be loved (without worrying about trivial crap like grades and without listening to someone say, "Well, be thankful that..."). Dad just didn't get it.
Mom and Dad may be coming up on Wednesday. I just wrote Mom an e-mail accepting her offer to come up a couple days earlier than planned. I think I may finally get my cry out in her arms.
As much as I may complain about her tendencies to do certain things, which do honestly drive me nuts sometimes, I love her sooo very much. Please know that.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Having managed to get about an hour of sleep before the bus broke down, about 4:30 in the morning (on a van now), I finally nodded off. Within ten minutes of my head drooping peacefully, I was woken suddenly as our van swerved and Mike threw on the brakes. I remember just a jumble of pavement, grass, and a guard rail, and suddenly we were in the median. Before I could figure out what had happened, people were leaping out of the van. The van in front of us had had a head-on collision with a drunk driver driving the wrong way down the divided highway. The first had swerved, the second hit, and the rest of us had swerved in time. The woman driving the car was airlifted after the jaws of life got her out of her mangled car. Everyone in the van that hit was injured in some way. Joe (our pastor) received a broken leg and lacerations. Jon Hainline and Bec Hanania received broken bones as well. Chelsea Brandel had a dislocated hip, Katrina Brink had a sprained ankle and chin injury, Rachel Holper had a leg (?) injury, Ben Hainline had a head injury (lacerations mostly), Brenda Embry had head lacerations, Lydia Belzer (Joe's daughter, almost 8) had cuts and bruises (but nothing worse, thankfully)... and there were others whose injuries I can't remember. I just remember staring in shock at my friends who were trying to stop my other friends' bleeding and whatnot. The rest of us embraced in a circle, crying out in prayer. Chris and I embraced and comforted a very upset Andy Belzer [which was the only time I didn't shake uncontrollably that whole morning]. We threw our pillowcases to those administering first aid so they could use them to stop the bleeding. I wanted to do more, but I'm not in that place. I'd have been in the way. Once everyone was loaded up in the ambulances to the hospital 2 hours later, the rest of us got in our respective vans and rode to the OK City DPS station. We sat in their classroom as we waited for news and we contacted our family and friends. Finally, at 11, about 30-35 of us (out of about 100) headed home.
I'll tell about the good stuff (even including the ride home, which was a bonding experience in spite of or because of the events) later. For now, I need to do some homework and possibly take a nap.
Call me if you need/want to know more.
Oh, and last I heard, the woman didn't actually die, but she was still in critical condition.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
I'll fill you in tomorrow on emotions surrounding the accident and highlights of the Texas trip.
I'm fine, in every way. Just be praying for the injured. They're pretty sore.
I'm wiped. Good night.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Aragorn: You've already had it.
Pippin: First Breakfast, yes. But what about Second Breakfast?
Merry: I don't think he knows about Second Breakfast, Pip.
Pippin: But what about Elevensies... Luncheon... Afternoon Tea... Dinner, Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?
Merry: I wouldn't count on it.
Unless I get the urge to post something before I leave tomorrow, I'll be seeing you in a week!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
My sugar's out of whack again. I need to drink a couple glasses of *bleh* water. I'm really hoping that we'll get out of class early. My hands are definitely shaking right now. Yuck. I'm fine... it just happens when I don't drink enough water and eat/drink too many carbs. Actually, I think I might ask her if I can leave in a few minutes to go take care of this.
I'm having a fat day. You know those days where, even if you aren't fat and don't look it even to yourself in the mirror, but you feel like you're about 300 pounds? I've got that feeling today. I look fine, unless the mirrors are screwed up, but I feel like I have a 60 inch waist (as wide as I am high!). Again, maybe water will help that.
Well, I'll try to add more thoughts later. One thing that will be vastly fascinating will be to see how many bulk messages will be in my yahoo bulk folder when I get back a week from Saturday. I got close to 40 this morning alone. I'm predicting 4-digit numbers.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
And spring break is FRIDAY!!! And, I'm not driving, I'm riding the bus. All I've got left to do is finish 2 creative writing projects and write a response paper. Once I've done that and packed my duffel bag, I'm good to go. And boy am I pumped. Really... I've wanted to go every year, and this is the first time I actually get to go!
Oh, and I'm Michelle's ditziest friend, according to her survey, "but in a fun way, not a stupid way"
Well, I can no longer justify procrastination, so I'm off to be a good little college student. Good night!!!
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Everybody say, "Awwwww..."
I tried the scrunch look with my hair last night. It didn't really work well. I think my hair is just too hopelessly straight.
Friday night, Andrea and I curled up on the couches in our jammies, watching Pride and Prejudice and Back to the Future III, and munched on a truly drool-worthy rack of ribs (though I could easily have taken care of that rack by myself, but it was fun to share ;) ). I actually fell asleep as soon as I shut my eyes that night. Last night was a little different, but that was because I did virtually nothing all day. I had no reason to be all that tired.
Alright, time to be getting ready for church. Over and out.
Later edit: Could you please pray that I might have some migraine relief soon? I've had a headache, if not everyday, pretty darn close, for about a month and a half. It's getting way old.
Friday, March 03, 2006
The day improved as I got over my sulkiness and started to laugh again. I'm still a little down and out, but it'll be alright. I think I was just long overdue for a breakdown (and boy, did I break down!)
I doubt any of you have any answers, but me and a fellow mostly-dateless (and stunning!) friend were pondering this question: How does one get dates? What exactly is it that makes average (used loosely) girl get a date every week while another girl with pretty much the same attributes spend 20 some-odd years waiting for that first date? What's the kicker? Is there one at all? Is there any concrete answer outside of the overused (if true) response of "God's timing"? We just want to know.
I bet you can't guess what type of scenario brought this on, huh.
I enjoy Netscape, except for one thing. If I select some text to delete, a little box pops up, and the stupid thing won't let me use backspace to delete it. Maybe I'll give Firefox a go.
Anyway, girly night tonight. Pride and Prejudice (to sigh) and Back to the Future III (to lighten the mood).
Vaya con Dios.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
My left ear is itching. I wonder if there's some superstition about that... isn't there one about practically every type of phantom itch or pain? Oh, now my nose itches. The intrigue grows.
I need to find another pair of comfortable flipflops. I had one pair that had green straps for about 3 or 4 years, and they never hurt. The strap material was soft (if not sexy), and I could walk for miles without anything but my legs and foot muscles hurting (rather than blisters). Tragically, they snapped one day in the mid to late summer last year. Therefore, I have a mission for the weekend. Find comfy shoes.
I love having a purpose.
Ooh, I just had a thought... mes grands-parents should be returning from Florida sometime this week (if they haven't already). I should email them.
I'm glad I make some people laugh... it's reassuring somehow.
Note to self: call the parents after work. Immediately.
A Cox Family vacation rarely passes without some sort of catastrophe. Of course, by "catastrophe," I don't mean loss of life, limb, or life savings. Rather, our catastrophes are the ones that occur when one has a brand new Tolkein book and a new CD that one is eagerly anticipating devouring with enjoyment, but one's dear, dear mother sits in the front seat chatting ceaselessly, even reading every road sign to keep her mouth moving without end, which, of course, cuts through one's headphones and torments one to tears... one, of course, meaning me.
“Hattiesburg, 125 miles. Speed limit 65. If that woman down the street doesn’t clean up her yard I’m calling the city. McDonald’s. Shell Gas. Speed limit 65. Oh! It’s 60 through here! You better slow down or you’re gonna get a ticket! Super 8, next right.”
Then, of course, Dad cranks up the big band and 1940s music, drowning out the sweet melodies of Relient K singing “Useless” with strains of “Put another nickel (When I think that I can’t) nickelodeon. All I want is (say that I’ll get through) music music music,” and “Mr. Sandman, bring (When February rolls) Make her the cutest that I’ve (turn a cold shoulder to these even colder skies).” I’ve had nightmares with this scenario.
Soon, I find that I've been reading the same paragraph for the past hour. To my utter dismay, I further discover that I don't know what one single sentence even said.
The trip grows more interesting when our wheels take on the six+ lane highways. Mom's hand, which already is seen frequently hanging from the handle above the door as her eyes roll far into the back of her head, is now permanently attached to the helpless piece of plastic. Finally, the chatter has subsided and silence falls (to my sheer relief, as I at last begin to doze), only to be shattered as she screeches at Dad for being closer than 20 feet to another car.
“You’ll kill us all!”
Well, good-bye sleep.
Naturally, we arrive and return in one piece (not counting my frazzled sanity).
After about eight years of carrying us safely to and from excursion destinations, the car is showing signs of evident way-too-tense-mother abuse. The single most telltale sign of the woman's terror is the poor handle, which, unlike its other three counterparts in the four-door Chrysler, now perpetually hangs limply in the down position. The spring that draws the others back into place has died a grisly, noisy death in this door. If I push the poor thing back into its original position, it promptly falls limply back down.
I love my parents dearly... until we're on the road, that is.
Miscommunication and I walk hand-in-hand. That's one of the perks of growing up with a speech impediment in a culture of people who only halfway listen.
I've gotten used to being misunderstood in speech... heck, it happens everyday, and it only gets interesting when someone think I've said something more, um, controversial or taboo, than I actually have.
Miscommunication in writing, on the other hand, can be a more traumatic experience. Sometimes, I even miscommunicate with my future self.
Oftentimes, I'll write a piece that, at the time, sounds quaintly humourous. I get excited. I post in on my blog. And wait. Then, instead of laughter, sweet laughter, there's an awkward silence. No one gets the joke. If I get a comment, the person starts with the inevitable tone of not wanting to hurt my feelings, but they think that I've said something that could be taken the wrong way.
Then, sometimes, like right now, I can tell when a piece is going to be a flop. So I either acknowledge it (like this) or erase the whole thing and give up for the day.
Perhaps the one I write this afternoon will be far more riveting... even two years later. Or not.
Over and out.
Two nights in a row, I've fallen asleep within a reasonable time after going to bed. I don't think I realized, consciously, how stressed out I was about my dad possibly having cancer. It wasn't a surface level thing, but it affected my sleep and my memory.
Yesterday was soooo incredibly beautiful. Scarcely anything more than a gentle breeze, about seventy degrees, sunlight. Beautiful. Now, it's 37 and the high today is 45. Phooey.
Whether or not I fell asleep reasonably last night, I'm still sleepy this morning. Oh well. Anyway, I better be off doing important things, like going to class, finishing homework, and other equally exciting events.