Friday, December 10, 2010


Sometimes I like to pretend I have a social life.
I get really into it, too. I'll spend lotsa time with people and be all open and talkative and fun. I am in the zone. The social zone. The I-have-friends-and-acquaintances-and-talk-to-lotsa-people-and-all-that-jazz zone.
And suddenly I'll realize.
This isn't really my style.
And then I go back in hiding again.

That is all.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Everything I needed to know about life...

Replacing brake pads, changing the oil, and rotating tires really isn't as difficult as you'd think.
Archery is cool. And always will be. So is learning to shoot a gun.
Keep an emergency kit handy at all times. You never know when you'll get stuck in the mountains for a freezing night and need a blanket, water, and food.
Practice makes perfect.
Cracked wheat hot cereal is delicious. Even if you have to grind the wheat with a manual wheat-grinder.
Take a coat.
Less is always more. Be happy with the little things in life. You don't need to be spending gobs of money to appreciate and enjoy.
Same with parties and get-togethers. A few people over for a quiet evening of dinner and cards is much more enjoyable (and much less stressful) than a loud, crowded event.
Hard work pays off. Even manual labor. Especially manual. It builds character, too.
Don't argue back until you eat something.
Bring chapstick when camping. And toilet paper.
Speaking of camping, it doesn't count unless you're in a tent and the bathrooms are across the campground. Camp trailers = cheating.
Hang out with your family. They're cool even if you don't think so.
Pay your tithing. You'll be blessed in more ways than you could imagine.
Hard tack (home-made cracker biscuit things) last forever and almost taste good.
Don't throw the remote control at your brother.
Don't bite your siblings. Or push them into ant-hills. Or punch them in the face. And don't screech too loud if your sibling punches you back.
Look at the engine before taking it in.
Impress everyone with your awesomeness.
Listen to your parents. They really are right. I don't care what you say.
Bean & Bacon soup with crispy, buttery french bread. Tater tots. Home-made pizzas. Quesadillas. They'll always be favorites.
Time and effort mean more than size and expense. My most memorable Christmas was home-made.
Do what you love, and love what you do.
Respect your elders.
Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit. Star Wars. And Indiana Jones. 'Nuff said.
Oh, and Jason and the Argonauts.
Having a thousand pounds of sugar, salt, and dry beans stuffed in a closet counts as food storage.
Read Hank the Cowdog. Read it again and again and again. Out loud, with voices and everything.
Work hard. Perseverance pays off. Never give anything less than your absolute best.
They really will pull the car over or turn around. Don't test them.
Use a tow rope instead of a chain. When towing, it's okay to go faster than 15 mph.
Laugh out loud.
And, of course, eat a worm.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010


Took a typing test today.
Jus' for the fun of it.
90 wpm.
I feel...
Go me.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Wonderland Drug

Last night I was so very sick and for the life of me I couldn't fall asleep. My roommate kindly brought me some cold medicine that would help me out, and I gladly drank a double dose. I was told that the medicine would knock me out within thirty minutes - twenty with luck.
For the next hour I tossed and turned. I couldn't sleep at all. I couldn't even stay still, even though I was absolutely exhausted. Maybe the caffeine I drank earlier in the day mixed with the cold meds messed it all up. My vision was blurry and doubled, and I just wandered around the room for a while. I sat on the floor. I sat on my roommate's bed (she was gone). I paced. I tried to do a word search game on my phone. I sat and looked at it for a full five minutes until I remembered I couldn't see. I rocked back and forth. I felt like I was having weird hallucinations - everything looked strange and different and new. It was like I was seeing my bedroom for the first time.
My brain was like, "Oh, I have a tv in my room. Oh, I have a quilt. Oh, there is a monkey. Oh, there is my phone. Oh, we have carpet. Fuuuuzzy carpet. Oh, I have work tomorrow. Oh, there is a coat on the floor. Green coat. Green? Goose coat. Oh, look, a pillow. Oh, my boots. Bootbootbootbootboooooots. Oh, what is that light? Oh? Oh? Oh? Oh. Oh, it's my phone charger. Oh, it's blue. Oh, my hair is curly. Oh, it's brown. Oh, it's really dark in here so I shouldn't even be able to see my hair right now especially since it's all piled into a bun on top of my head." Literally, that is what I was thinking while I rocked back and forth. (That's all I can remember, at least.)
Finally, finally, my brain decided it was time to clock out. I. Passed. Out. I might as well have been knocked in the head with a bat. But the weirdness didn't stop. It just continued into my dreams, which were like Alice in Wonderland on steroids.
Basically it was terrifying and freaking amazing at the same time. I think I was drunk.

Thursday, December 2, 2010


Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale. Exhale.
His head pounds as he glances around the dim living room from his corner. A tear in the second-hand sofa. Muddy boots by the door. Paint chipped and peeling.
The throbbing increases, blurring his vision and making his eyes sting. Almost like the thump-thump-thump of a bass drum. Constant. Ceaseless. His hands tremble and cold chills make him shiver and sink deeper into his corner. He pushes himself into it as tight as he can, further from the case. It stares back invitingly, beckoning him forward.
Don't do it. You don't need it.
Head cradled in his palms, he repeats the phrase in a whisper. Over and over he reminds himself that he should be strong. He can be strong. He will be strong. It seems he's there for hours, though it's only a matter of minutes before his head snaps up in defiance.
As soon as he makes the decision the pain starts to dissipate, waning as he draws closer to the case. The frustration, anger, and ache dissolve, leaving only his raw and desperate need. His hands tremble with excitement now as he fumbles with the package. His breath quickens.
The needle suddenly slips through his shaking fingers and falls to the floor. A clear ping! rings out through the silent apartment as it clatters against the dingy tile. The metallic sound catches him off-guard. The dire need alleviates just a bit, causing him to hesitate for the smallest moment. His breath sticks in his throat as he reaches to pick up the needle.
Don't do it. You don't need it.
He grabs the needle and scrapes the tip roughly against the tile, making sure it's completely ruined. Yelling in rage - at himself and his need - he throws what's left of the syringe against a wall, finally collapsing into his corner once again. He hugs his knees to his chest, shaking. He closes his eyes and rocks softly.
The process then begins again, with the little case glaring at him from the table.
Don't do it. You don't need it.