butter me up and eat me for breakfast

i'm ToastED.
i was listening to conference on the picnic table and i started drooling. i don't remember falling asleep. it's nice. i think i'll wear cap sleeves tomorrow. my arms are still really warm. i love it, but when i came in my dad took a look at me and sat me down for a lecture on carcenogens. *sigh* i love it, but i'm not a fan of cancer, or pre-wrinkly, both of which i'm very prone to. pasty contest 2006! i'm totally winning this year. *grumble grumble mutt grumble*

on the other foot, i actually did my homework yesterday! color 2006 gets three thumbs up! it was inspired, dramatic, and full of flare. let's take a gander shall we?

the first i like to call jacob's firetruck. there was a safety fair at the church yesterday. it was pretty fun.

later, taking the advice of my paternal figure, i headed to the IFA store. it's apparently a really hip hangout for chicks. and bunnies.

looking around, i also happened to run into a lone m-vite. and looking rather dashing in his pink hat.

unfortunately, i believe he later got caught in a fiber-optic bailing machine. or perhaps that was before the chicks. either way, he doesn't seem too torn up about it. yay for blue flip-flops!

april fool

it's not my fault. i promise. i think it's a genetic mutation. like psycological cancer. i blame it on genetics, low sleep, and uncoordinated administration.
see, stress is normal, pressure is normal, but my reaction to them is not normal. and it's not fair. i used to be able to leave my work where it belonged: in the books. now it's always with me, sitting in the back of my head, talking me through life, the universe, and everything. photo is now and electrochemistry review, scripture mastery brings entropy to mind, and from there i think of relationships and visa-versa. i see chocolate and i think of calrimetry and the pH of your physiological system. even lord of the rings is tainted. vases have me thinking of integrals, and lines always twist themselfs into graphs. it may be a form of dislexia. i can't even go unconscious to it; i fell asleep in seminary the other day and had to do calculus instead. when i finally get to sleep at night, i do homework or labs or sit by the river trying to take logs. phillip and michael (stuffed animals, jsyk) say that i babble non-sensically and they somehow end up on the floor by morning, while i'm being eaten by a twisted mass of blankets. i've ceased making sense to my friends, my family, and really anyone but mavis. help me! i'm going under! my tenuous connection to reality is fading.
and i need to shoot 30 color on saturday. please inquire.
Praise the thunder god!
i think i'm gonna go make a polyatomic ion poster, pack tomorrow's lunch, and cuddle with my review books.

charmingly chubby

every year at thanksgiving i'ma little reluctant to leave the frozen block of ice, and swim home with moby again. I love all the food and the free time and the pool and the FOOD! Everything always tastes so good and i still want to eat, even when i'm filled up to my eyebrows. i don't want to leave, to go back to where the food is still good, but not as abundant and well-tended.
i feel the same way about Conference. i love it oh, so much! i eat and drink in the spiritual sense and can't seem to get enough. i feel kinda bloated, but the end of the sunday afternoon session comes all too quickly. i stole my dad's cd's from october and am listening to them. the weekend was so good. i hated to go to sleep.
but then, although eating is pleasurable, it is not an end unto itself. food is meant to sustain a man as he lives. it gives him the energy to act. the same applies to spiritual sustainance. all the learning and spiritual growth is worthless without action. we have to go back into Babylon, and live what we've learned.

"...do not suppose that this is all; for after ye have done all these things, if ye turn away the needy, and the naked, and visit not the sick and afflicted, and impart of your substance, if ye have, to those who stand in need—I say unto you, if ye do not any of these things, behold, your prayer is vain, and availeth you nothing, and ye are as hypocrites who do deny the faith." -Alma 34:28

" Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." -Matthew 5: 16

It's time to go to Work.

fairly truthful

I am stubborn. I have long ago accepted the fact as a fundamental part of my nature. I will be the first to admit that, when I get something into my head, good or bad, I stick to it like a big wad of duct tape. But just because I'm stubborn doesn't mean that I'm not right.
In third grade, my family found a piece of paper at our house that created quite an uproar. I've always prided myself on being a good student; I always do my homework the night that it's given and I promptly turn it in on time, if not early. I never forget. So when my mom held up the paper, the affixed question dangling in front of me, I was almost offended. No, of course the homework was not mine. The question turned next to my second grade brother, Spence. Spence has never been as school-oriented as I. While A's are run of the mill for me, the Hallelujah Chorus breaks out if Spence comes anywhere near one. The recovered English worksheet must be his. He looked at it carefully, then shook his head.
“Nope, not mine, Mom.”
“Well, it has to be somebody's,” she said, “and it needs to be filled out and turned in.”
I couldn't believe it. Spence was either lying or had completely forgotten an assignment. How do you forget a school assignment? Needless to say, the problem of the paper did not stop with the singular incident. It swelled and bloomed into a Venus fly trap that started chomping any time the conversation came to close to the subject. I firmly said, stated, then screamed that the homework was not mine and there was no way in Kentucky that I was going to do it. Spence followed suit and we both lost count of the times we were sent to our rooms for fighting over the paper. I still have the scars.
Finally, Mom had had enough. She dragged me into Spence's room one day, sat me on the bed, and folded her arms.
“I'm going to ask the two of you one more time: Whose assignment is this?”
We both folded our arms and glared at each other. “It's not mine,” I said, and tried to get up to leave. Mom shoved me back down.
“It's not mine either!” Spence was shoved down too.
“Fine. There are only two of you, so it can't be anyone else's. No little homework fairy snuck in and left it on the living room floor. If neither of you are willing to claim it, then we will go to your teachers. Whoever it belongs to will apologize to the other and will buy them a king-size candy bar out of their allowance.” She snatched the paper off the bed and stalked from the room.
A bet! Mom was really serious if she was setting up a bet. We were never allowed to bet. Spence bet me I wouldn't eat a live spider once. When I did, he told Mom and I was grounded for a week after getting my mouth washed out with Dad's old soap. Somehow, Spence wasn't punished. Well, it wasn't my homework, and I wasn't going to lose.
It seemed like an eternity before Mom arrived after school the next day. At last, she marched into the room and up to Mrs. Foster, holding the now rumpled and dirty scrap of homework, Spence trailing behind.
“Excuse me,” she began, “but is this Amy's? An owner cannot be found at my home and I was wondering if you could help us.”
“Hmm...” Mrs. Foster puzzled, “it looks like our grade level, but I'm afraid that I've never seen that paper before. It can't be Amy's.”
Yes! I stuck my tongue out at Spence and grinned triumphantly. I imagined the glorious chocolate that was as good as in my mouth. I smiled as we headed out of the room and to Spence's classroom; Mom had promised to check with both teachers. She approached Spence's slender teacher and asked the question that I already knew the answer to.
“Does this homework belong to Spence?” she asked.
“Hmm...” (Teachers seem to say “hmm” a lot.) “No, I'm afraid that assignment doesn't belong to my class. Perhaps one of the other teachers could help you.”
What? No! It was his! It had to be! My mother's expression echoes my thoughts. The three of us walked stiffly out to the car, too dumbfounded to say anything. What were we supposed to do? Mom pulled out of the parking lot and started down the street. I stared blindly out the car window until we passed a billboard for The Thomas Theatre. It had a picture of a fairy. I pointed it out to Spence and he burst out laughing.
“It's the Homework Fairy!” He exclaimed.
Stupid fairy. I wanted that candy bar. No, I'm not bitter, I just wanted my candy bar, which I never got by the way. Yes, I know, I'm stubborn. I still hate that fairy.

school days

i miss elementary school. i miss snacks, recess, no homework, and knowing everyone in your class. i miss projects that you would do In Class, playing games and reading stories. I TOTALLY miss field trips. once in preschool, we went to the zoo. i was so excited that the night before, i woke up at four in the morning to get ready. i remember waking my mom up to see if i could get dressed and have breakfast yet.

i try to go on field trips every once in a while. they aren't quite as exciting as that usually. i do have a fun time looking, learning, and talking to people though. i had an assignment for reece to take pictures of the constitutional amendments on wednesday. it was perfect because we're starting a unit on photoshop in photo. photosafaries are the best things. i love em. the conflict: my mom had the car. i'm doomed! oh wait, no that just means that i take a two hour nap till she comes home. and then, i had it all planned out: the newspaper, the library, the city building, the church and whatever caught my eye along the way.


but of course, being me, i got stuck at the first step. i saw some of the extra papers lying around, and it perked my interest. so i go up to the brunette secretary and ask if i can get back into the press room. and she actually picked up the phone and got me permission. escorted of course. while i waited, a blong lady walked in, holding two drinks and bouncing with excitement. "are you ready for this?!" she asked, and gave the secretary one of the brown cups. the two jab straws through the plastic tops and start sucking down whatever it is.
"do you like it? it's kinda weird and i didn't really know how to describe it, but it's good ya know?"
"yeah, kinda...chewy. i want to spit it out to see what it looks like, but i won't"
"thank you for sparing me."
i grinned to myself. guess who they reminded me of? i think that they had forgot that i was standing right there waiting for my escort because they both looked over and blushed. right then larry walked up and introduced himself. good timing, my friend.


the dim light and the ink in the air surrounded me and everything else as larry showed me around the HUGE machines sucking in paper. the rolls were bigger than i am tall. we wandered through the narrow hallways, watching the 16x20 negatives being made, loaded onto the reels, and the products being whisked away at speeds papers usually don't reach. as the ink was cleaning and being adjusted, the papers were drenched in color. the column (in the back with confetti strips hanging off the rings) was a rainbow as they swirled and blended. larry commented that it takes about 600 papers to get the color, pages and alignment all right. everyone we talked to smiled and had something to say to us. they pointed out funny things in the print, told jokes, and taught me little things.

i was sad when larry finally had to go back to work, i walked out of the warehouse trailing ink. i think that i still have some on the bottoms of my flipflips. i went home and almost wanted to do a write up on it; what was your favorite part? name four things you learned? what was the guide's name? how did the experience make you feel? nstead i stayed up till two writing a story and pasting pictures. what i realixed when i got to school the next day was that i could have skipped the entire assignment and still have gotten an A in the class. i laughed. i love the end of the term.