Time for awesome metaphors!
The school semester really seems like three pregnancy trimesters shrunk down to a shorter time frame. I've never been pregnant but I think that this is the case anyway. Allow me to elaborate on this a bit: By the end of the semester, you just want to have the whole thing over and done with, except instead of yelling "I HATE YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!!!" at one man, you get to say it to 4-5 sadistic professors. Okay, I admit I'm being a little bit dramatic. I just want be done already. And my professors really are awesome this year and I can't legitimately complain about any of them but that's never stopped me in the past so I figure, why let it influence me now?
Moving on...right now I'm writing a 4 pager on "What influenced you to enter the health care field?". So I'm making a 4 page list of all the forms of happiness that the great money I'll earn can buy :). No, not really. Mine is heartfelt and legitimate and, in case you're still wondering, money is not why I'm becoming a nurse. I'm becoming one so I can steal prescription drugs.
So the final part of my English class includes assembling a portfolio of my work to present to a committee of professors (fancy term for "people who never joined the real world"). I think I might write one of those stories from when we were little kids where a picture is substituted for the word...kind like "John kicked the (soccer ball pic here) to Mary. Mary dropped her (beer bottle pic here) and yelled at John." Maybe I'll write one where all of the teachers are the characters. Yea. Then I can sign up for the class again after they flunk me. Creative genius never goes unpunished.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
My Grandma
On Sunday, March 21, my beautiful Grandma went home to our Savior. She left at noon, which I think is something she did on purpose. Noon is when everyone always went home from church and made a big dinner. It was a time for family to come together. Now, I don’t know what all really goes on in heaven, but I like to think that when she walked through those gates, she was welcomed by all of our family members that are already there, and that they had a huge dinner waiting for her.
A few years ago, my mother and aunt took my grandma to the ABQ airport. If you knew my grandma, you knew she was a glamorous and gorgeous woman who was always dressed to the nines. At the airport, she was treated like royalty the entire time, skipping through ticketing, security, etc. At the gate, the pilot himself came off the plane to personally assist her in boarding. The entire time, the man who was escorting them through the airport kept telling various employees, “Estella’s here! Estella’s here!” Grandma just smiled and sparkled the entire time. I think that when she got to heaven, angels must have been flying around shouting “Estella’s here!”
Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I have ever done. She was and forever will be the queen of my heart. Her love was unconditional, her life a living testimony to Christ. Her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren have all risen up and called her blessed.
The impact that she had on me personally is beyond description. She came to live with my family when I was 12 years old, and rotated between our house and our relatives for the following 13 years. I invariably shared a room with her. Now, for most young teens, sharing a room with Grandma is not the coolest thing in the world. I resented her for it and popped more attitude than I care to admit. However, as I grew up, she ceased being only my grandmother and became a true friend, and in the last few years, became one of my best friends. We spent countless nights lying in bed talking to each other till well after midnight. I was able to tell her my secrets and never worried that she would tell anyone. I know she is at rest and I wouldn’t make her come back to this earth. I just can’t believe that my time with her is gone, that I will never stay up late on hot summer nights talking with her, that we will never share another cup of coffee or play another round of cards. I can’t believe that we won’t share a pineapple sundae from Sonic, make another batch of strawberry jam, or cook another Thanksgiving dinner together. I only hope that I will be half the woman of grace, wisdom, intelligence, and strength that she was.
Perhaps the single most defining part of her was her undying love for my grandpa. She was married at 16 and widowed at 17. A few years later, she met a military man by the name of James Dacy. She loved him deeply and passionately. They were married for more than 40 years before he went home to Christ. She followed him around the world multiple times, and always told me that her place was by his side, no matter what. When other wives whose husbands were deployed went home to their parents, she stayed at his home base and waited for his return, even when he was sent to Africa for 3 years. She was faithful and true to him throughout their marriage and even after his death. After he passed away in 1994, a friend asked her if she would remarry. She replied “No…I’ve already known the love of my life. I’m waiting for Jim.” Wait for him she did, as faithfully as if he were merely on a deployment again. I know that when she went home on Sunday, he was standing there waiting for her. I’m willing to bet they haven’t stopped dancing yet. She taught me more about true love than anyone I have ever known…she exemplified it. If and when I ever marry, I will carry the memory of her love for her husband in my heart. They were the true romance, because they shared a true, undying, and selfless love for each other. I hope I am someday blessed to have the same in my life.
Ladybug, you were the most beautiful woman I have ever know, both inside and out. Thank you for every lesson you ever taught me, for every moment we shared. Caring for you before you went home was the greatest privilege of my life, being your granddaughter and carrying your name is the greatest honor I could ever hope for. My love for you will never die. You are forever the queen of my heart. I love you.
A few years ago, my mother and aunt took my grandma to the ABQ airport. If you knew my grandma, you knew she was a glamorous and gorgeous woman who was always dressed to the nines. At the airport, she was treated like royalty the entire time, skipping through ticketing, security, etc. At the gate, the pilot himself came off the plane to personally assist her in boarding. The entire time, the man who was escorting them through the airport kept telling various employees, “Estella’s here! Estella’s here!” Grandma just smiled and sparkled the entire time. I think that when she got to heaven, angels must have been flying around shouting “Estella’s here!”
Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I have ever done. She was and forever will be the queen of my heart. Her love was unconditional, her life a living testimony to Christ. Her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren have all risen up and called her blessed.
The impact that she had on me personally is beyond description. She came to live with my family when I was 12 years old, and rotated between our house and our relatives for the following 13 years. I invariably shared a room with her. Now, for most young teens, sharing a room with Grandma is not the coolest thing in the world. I resented her for it and popped more attitude than I care to admit. However, as I grew up, she ceased being only my grandmother and became a true friend, and in the last few years, became one of my best friends. We spent countless nights lying in bed talking to each other till well after midnight. I was able to tell her my secrets and never worried that she would tell anyone. I know she is at rest and I wouldn’t make her come back to this earth. I just can’t believe that my time with her is gone, that I will never stay up late on hot summer nights talking with her, that we will never share another cup of coffee or play another round of cards. I can’t believe that we won’t share a pineapple sundae from Sonic, make another batch of strawberry jam, or cook another Thanksgiving dinner together. I only hope that I will be half the woman of grace, wisdom, intelligence, and strength that she was.
Perhaps the single most defining part of her was her undying love for my grandpa. She was married at 16 and widowed at 17. A few years later, she met a military man by the name of James Dacy. She loved him deeply and passionately. They were married for more than 40 years before he went home to Christ. She followed him around the world multiple times, and always told me that her place was by his side, no matter what. When other wives whose husbands were deployed went home to their parents, she stayed at his home base and waited for his return, even when he was sent to Africa for 3 years. She was faithful and true to him throughout their marriage and even after his death. After he passed away in 1994, a friend asked her if she would remarry. She replied “No…I’ve already known the love of my life. I’m waiting for Jim.” Wait for him she did, as faithfully as if he were merely on a deployment again. I know that when she went home on Sunday, he was standing there waiting for her. I’m willing to bet they haven’t stopped dancing yet. She taught me more about true love than anyone I have ever known…she exemplified it. If and when I ever marry, I will carry the memory of her love for her husband in my heart. They were the true romance, because they shared a true, undying, and selfless love for each other. I hope I am someday blessed to have the same in my life.
Ladybug, you were the most beautiful woman I have ever know, both inside and out. Thank you for every lesson you ever taught me, for every moment we shared. Caring for you before you went home was the greatest privilege of my life, being your granddaughter and carrying your name is the greatest honor I could ever hope for. My love for you will never die. You are forever the queen of my heart. I love you.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tax season is here.
Of course, for me,the tax season only lasts 24 hours and is still almost three months away, because I wait to do any of it till the last possible day each year. Today I received my tax info tuition statement (officially known as Form 109884328797864-T) from my college in the mail. I opened it 25 minutes ago. Three minutes ago, I spilled applesauce on it. Within the next nine minutes, I will have misplaced it and won't see it again till April 14th, when I will find it under my bed inside a Far Side comic book, marking some particularly funny panel that I wanted to show someone else but forgot to after I lost the book off my nightstand. Then, even though I will be in a rush to get my taxes done, I'll sit there on my floor going, "YES! I found my Form 109884328797864-T and now I can finish my-oh sweet I LOVED this panel!", and then I'll sit read the whole book and won't file till the 15th.
Speaking of the 15th reminds me of the 14th, which reminds me that upcoming day of love and romance, where millions of women get upset if their respective man failed to do something original, and where millions of men think that a box of candy (that says "made in china" on the bottom) from Wal-mart counts as something original. It's a nasty, nasty cycle. I spent last Valentine's night at a lovely restaurant, surrounded by balloons and flowers. Of course, I was the person carrying food to the tables and refilling drinks and by the end of the night I was ready to pop the balloons with a steak knife. And it wasn't really a lovely restaurant, it was Applebee's, and it was crowded, and the kitchen crashed, and I have no freaking clue what makes 573 billion couples think that by all going out for dinner on the same night, they will have a private, relaxing experience. Seriously..."Hey honey, let's have some time for just the two of us. Let's go to the standing-room-only lobby at a restaurant that doesn't take reservations and wait for 70-90 minutes for a table. It'll just be us and 340 other couples packed together". Yea, that screams romance. I won't even touch on how long it took for food to arrive, except to say that really, they could have raised and butchered out a steer in less time than it took to get a steak that night. Nights like that made me wonder why the heck I worked in a restaurant and definitely kept me motivated to stay in school.
Getting back to my taxes...I'm actually just waiting for one more thing to come in the mail before filing, which I really actually want to accomplish earlier than April 15th this year. My goal is to file by April 14th. I'm so tempted to do them by hand this year, simply for the reason that I could send my late-night-snack-food splotched forms to the IRS in Santa Fe and some government employee would have to pull a coffee stained, peanut butter crusted-together stack of papers out of the envelope and try to decipher my writing through the mess, then I'll call 3 days after I mail it and demand to know why I haven't received my return yet. And then it will be their turn to question their employment.
Speaking of the 15th reminds me of the 14th, which reminds me that upcoming day of love and romance, where millions of women get upset if their respective man failed to do something original, and where millions of men think that a box of candy (that says "made in china" on the bottom) from Wal-mart counts as something original. It's a nasty, nasty cycle. I spent last Valentine's night at a lovely restaurant, surrounded by balloons and flowers. Of course, I was the person carrying food to the tables and refilling drinks and by the end of the night I was ready to pop the balloons with a steak knife. And it wasn't really a lovely restaurant, it was Applebee's, and it was crowded, and the kitchen crashed, and I have no freaking clue what makes 573 billion couples think that by all going out for dinner on the same night, they will have a private, relaxing experience. Seriously..."Hey honey, let's have some time for just the two of us. Let's go to the standing-room-only lobby at a restaurant that doesn't take reservations and wait for 70-90 minutes for a table. It'll just be us and 340 other couples packed together". Yea, that screams romance. I won't even touch on how long it took for food to arrive, except to say that really, they could have raised and butchered out a steer in less time than it took to get a steak that night. Nights like that made me wonder why the heck I worked in a restaurant and definitely kept me motivated to stay in school.
Getting back to my taxes...I'm actually just waiting for one more thing to come in the mail before filing, which I really actually want to accomplish earlier than April 15th this year. My goal is to file by April 14th. I'm so tempted to do them by hand this year, simply for the reason that I could send my late-night-snack-food splotched forms to the IRS in Santa Fe and some government employee would have to pull a coffee stained, peanut butter crusted-together stack of papers out of the envelope and try to decipher my writing through the mess, then I'll call 3 days after I mail it and demand to know why I haven't received my return yet. And then it will be their turn to question their employment.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
What Do They Do At 1 AM?
How funny would it be....if our politicians had to have everything done by Sunday night, the same way I do each week? Maybe this only seems funny because I've been sitting at my computer for the last 5 hours working on a paper that is due tomorrow. Seriously though, the image of our *Beloved Leaders* sitting there going "crud...crud if I don't finish this up, I'll get a bad grade, and then my average for the class will go down, and then I'll risk getting a lower letter grade, and then my GPA for the semester will go down, and then my name will be Suck" is hilarious. I think it would be even funnier if their pay reflected their bad GPA. Yea, I know this is nonsensical retarded musing :O)
I wonder how similar my life and their lives really are though? How many pots of coffee do they burn through while trying to get their work done? Do they sit there crafting their Serious Works of Grave Political Significance and Importance while wearing black and red knee high argyle socks with blue pajama shorts that are covered with pink and red hearts and a vintage orange t-shirt? (If Sarah Palin does then I'd be down with it...just hope that's not the case for John McCain. He has old man knees and should avoid shorts). While he dreams up his word-vomit for the next day, could Joe Biden have a fondness for eating clementine oranges at 2 AM and a nit-picky way of peeling them (starting from the top, in five vertical sections, so that it looks like an opened flower blossom)? Does Janet Napolitano rock out to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" while writing the death plans for all the Ron Paul supporters? Nah...I bet Janet blasts Blondie's "One Way Or Another".
Anyway, I finally finished writing the health care paper and let me tell you, I think I rewrote that paper about 3 times when it was all said and done. However, it is simply waiting for a peer review tomorrow morning before I upload it to my prof. There is nothing as horrible as the thought of walking into a classroom with an incomplete assignment...unless it's the thought that (seriously, do I seriously have to list his name in a blog about "our politicians"?)Al Franken might possibly also get up from his chair to get his blood circulating by dancing to "Funky Town" or "Play That Funky Music". For the record, my dancing skills are way funkier than his could ever be. I mean, really, I'm the one with the awesome socks.
I wonder how similar my life and their lives really are though? How many pots of coffee do they burn through while trying to get their work done? Do they sit there crafting their Serious Works of Grave Political Significance and Importance while wearing black and red knee high argyle socks with blue pajama shorts that are covered with pink and red hearts and a vintage orange t-shirt? (If Sarah Palin does then I'd be down with it...just hope that's not the case for John McCain. He has old man knees and should avoid shorts). While he dreams up his word-vomit for the next day, could Joe Biden have a fondness for eating clementine oranges at 2 AM and a nit-picky way of peeling them (starting from the top, in five vertical sections, so that it looks like an opened flower blossom)? Does Janet Napolitano rock out to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" while writing the death plans for all the Ron Paul supporters? Nah...I bet Janet blasts Blondie's "One Way Or Another".
Anyway, I finally finished writing the health care paper and let me tell you, I think I rewrote that paper about 3 times when it was all said and done. However, it is simply waiting for a peer review tomorrow morning before I upload it to my prof. There is nothing as horrible as the thought of walking into a classroom with an incomplete assignment...unless it's the thought that (seriously, do I seriously have to list his name in a blog about "our politicians"?)Al Franken might possibly also get up from his chair to get his blood circulating by dancing to "Funky Town" or "Play That Funky Music". For the record, my dancing skills are way funkier than his could ever be. I mean, really, I'm the one with the awesome socks.
Conquering Health Science Writing and Demon Insects of the South
This weekend I've been working on an extremely interesting paper titled "Health Care Financing". Yea, I know...contain your jealousy and envy. Interestingly, I found myself quite drawn into it once I started writing and now have a 450 word affair that I somehow have to cut 100 words out of in order to meet my prof's specifications. (For the record, I'm officially at that point of tired where I have to sit here thinking "Is it speficifations or specifications?").
Said paper is an assignment from my "Writing for Health Science Careers" class. The only problem I'm having is that my teacher wants this to be an OPINION paper, which would be okay except that I am incapable of stating only my own opinion and nothing but my opinion on the given subject. I have this insatiable need to argue against every single other opinion out there, which I'm pretty sure is what caused the current too-many-words thing I have going on. The horrible part is I'm not even close to being finished with it. All I know is, if Liberals would stop trying to force universal free health coverage on us, I wouldn't have to tell the world why their plans won't work, and my paper would fit within 350 words!(At last, I've learned how to blame everything on the government). Seriously though, how many times does socialism have to fail before we finally realize that it doesn't work?
Moving on. I have been presented with the opportunity to visit a very old, very dear friend of mine in FL on Memorial Day weekend. He's stationed at an AFB right by the ocean. Oh my cow I would get to see the water! We're talking about going to Disney World while I'm there, as well as dressing up in 50's fashion for an evening out, simply for the fun of it because we both love the glamor of that era. I think it will be a wonderful weekend, with the only exceptions being the 340% humidity and prehistoric-sized insects (and here you thought those were alligators in the swamps)that come with visiting the South
Airport security should let me board while carrying a shotgun loaded with buckshot when I say "I'm going to the South. This is insect repellent." If they've been there, they'll understand and wave me on through without a second thought. If they haven't, I'll henceforth be writing a blog titled "The Prison-Issue-Canvas-Slipper Wearing Conservative".
Said paper is an assignment from my "Writing for Health Science Careers" class. The only problem I'm having is that my teacher wants this to be an OPINION paper, which would be okay except that I am incapable of stating only my own opinion and nothing but my opinion on the given subject. I have this insatiable need to argue against every single other opinion out there, which I'm pretty sure is what caused the current too-many-words thing I have going on. The horrible part is I'm not even close to being finished with it. All I know is, if Liberals would stop trying to force universal free health coverage on us, I wouldn't have to tell the world why their plans won't work, and my paper would fit within 350 words!(At last, I've learned how to blame everything on the government). Seriously though, how many times does socialism have to fail before we finally realize that it doesn't work?
Moving on. I have been presented with the opportunity to visit a very old, very dear friend of mine in FL on Memorial Day weekend. He's stationed at an AFB right by the ocean. Oh my cow I would get to see the water! We're talking about going to Disney World while I'm there, as well as dressing up in 50's fashion for an evening out, simply for the fun of it because we both love the glamor of that era. I think it will be a wonderful weekend, with the only exceptions being the 340% humidity and prehistoric-sized insects (and here you thought those were alligators in the swamps)that come with visiting the South
Airport security should let me board while carrying a shotgun loaded with buckshot when I say "I'm going to the South. This is insect repellent." If they've been there, they'll understand and wave me on through without a second thought. If they haven't, I'll henceforth be writing a blog titled "The Prison-Issue-Canvas-Slipper Wearing Conservative".
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Home
Trying on a new background...the pink was getting to me. Around this time of year, when winter really starts to set in for the long haul and I know I am looking at another 5 months of cold, I start longing for Pacific Ocean. Funny how I grew up near it but always took it for granted...now I'd kill for just one day to lay in the hot sand and run through the waves. Maybe kill is an overstatement. Anyway, I miss the west coast.
There's nothing wrong with being homesick. It's natural to miss the places we knew and loved for most of our lives. Turning that around to the non-physical type of locations, I realized this week where my walk with Christ has come too. See, with Him, wherever I am, no matter what I am doing, I am home. That's what gives me peace about going to the mission field. I've always known that He's not sending me somewhere by myself...rather,I'm following Him to where He wants me to serve.
This week, I realized that I have not been home in quite a long time. Sure, I'm in my living room, warm and cozy with the fire crackling in the stove nearby, but I've been gone for the longest time. I don't like being this way. It's like when your shoes and socks are soaking wet, when traffic is nasty and everyone on the planet is snarling at each other. You want to be home more than anything in the world. You can stop in some place for a while, grab a cup of coffee, but you know it's not the same thing as being home where you belong.
Pardon the preceding pathetic metaphors, but really, when we as Christians get away from our Savior, we get away from home. We can try other things to distract us for a bit from the misery that comes with not walking with Him, but it doesn't work for very long. I know where I belong, no matter where my physical location might be. I know as long as I am with Him, I'm home. Nothing else compares, and nothing else is worth it.
So back to talking about the mission field...someone recently asked me why I want to go overseas. In my recent "run away from home" retardedness, I really forgot a few things. First, that I am so prone to wandering from Him, it terrifies me.I dread the thought of a life without Him, yet it is that very life that I seem to run to as fast as possible most of the time. Second, that God can use any vessel He wants to fulfill His purpose. He could use a brick if He wanted to. I don't know why He is allowing me to do this, but I am ready to follow His will. If He wants to use me, if He chose me to follow Him, then my home is with Him, wherever that may take me.
Hope this made sense, wrote it in the dead middle of the night on an empty stomach and depleted caffeine stores.
Closing note...tonight I was reading online and saw this article. http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/latinamerica/6783415.html
During this season of joy, it's so easy to forget what's going on around us.
In Christ,
Gina
There's nothing wrong with being homesick. It's natural to miss the places we knew and loved for most of our lives. Turning that around to the non-physical type of locations, I realized this week where my walk with Christ has come too. See, with Him, wherever I am, no matter what I am doing, I am home. That's what gives me peace about going to the mission field. I've always known that He's not sending me somewhere by myself...rather,I'm following Him to where He wants me to serve.
This week, I realized that I have not been home in quite a long time. Sure, I'm in my living room, warm and cozy with the fire crackling in the stove nearby, but I've been gone for the longest time. I don't like being this way. It's like when your shoes and socks are soaking wet, when traffic is nasty and everyone on the planet is snarling at each other. You want to be home more than anything in the world. You can stop in some place for a while, grab a cup of coffee, but you know it's not the same thing as being home where you belong.
Pardon the preceding pathetic metaphors, but really, when we as Christians get away from our Savior, we get away from home. We can try other things to distract us for a bit from the misery that comes with not walking with Him, but it doesn't work for very long. I know where I belong, no matter where my physical location might be. I know as long as I am with Him, I'm home. Nothing else compares, and nothing else is worth it.
So back to talking about the mission field...someone recently asked me why I want to go overseas. In my recent "run away from home" retardedness, I really forgot a few things. First, that I am so prone to wandering from Him, it terrifies me.I dread the thought of a life without Him, yet it is that very life that I seem to run to as fast as possible most of the time. Second, that God can use any vessel He wants to fulfill His purpose. He could use a brick if He wanted to. I don't know why He is allowing me to do this, but I am ready to follow His will. If He wants to use me, if He chose me to follow Him, then my home is with Him, wherever that may take me.
Hope this made sense, wrote it in the dead middle of the night on an empty stomach and depleted caffeine stores.
Closing note...tonight I was reading online and saw this article. http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/latinamerica/6783415.html
During this season of joy, it's so easy to forget what's going on around us.
In Christ,
Gina
Monday, December 21, 2009
I'm back!
DOH! Trying this again. I started to write a post earlier but it turned into a diary of an emo white woman, and let's face it, even I wouldn't subject anyone to reading that.
So I haven't posted anything here since October and am not sure if I still have any readers or not. I got pretty swamped with exams and projects for a while there. Thankfully, school ended on Wednesday and I am a free woman till January 11th. This weekend was my first free weekend since August. I slept for about 26 hours between Friday night and this afternoon. Seriously. It was awesome. For the first time in months, my eyes are not bloodshot and I'm not yawning constantly. I might just spend the next three weeks sleeping, getting up long enough to eat, drink, and go back to bed. I'll shower once a week.
Seriously though, this is only going to be a half break. I have to start reading my books for next term so that I actually know what the teacher is talking about when we get started. The great part about being in my second year is knowing what is coming at me. I already know that I am going to get my butt kicked, that I will cry, that I will hit a slump around late March, and that I'll unconsciously clench my jaw from stress. Well, not really on the last part there...I finally cracked a molar from doing that this semester and now have awesome 20/20 hindsight about how wise it might have been to invest three dollars in one of those squeezy rubber balls or at least a mouth guard. But I probably would have looked pretty dorky....sitting still, reading, with a mouth guard in place. Yea, cracked teeth are better. Very sexy too, I might add. It's like I'm permanently establishing the fact that I am from the Four Corners region. At least I could move to the south and fit in relatively easy. Might not have the accent, but all I'd have to do is flash my broken pearly whites and folks would be like "oh, yea, you must be kinfolk of SueJo and Earl...say, you got that Jello salad recipe SueJo's always keepin from us?" Don't diss it. It's a good back up plan.
So I haven't posted anything here since October and am not sure if I still have any readers or not. I got pretty swamped with exams and projects for a while there. Thankfully, school ended on Wednesday and I am a free woman till January 11th. This weekend was my first free weekend since August. I slept for about 26 hours between Friday night and this afternoon. Seriously. It was awesome. For the first time in months, my eyes are not bloodshot and I'm not yawning constantly. I might just spend the next three weeks sleeping, getting up long enough to eat, drink, and go back to bed. I'll shower once a week.
Seriously though, this is only going to be a half break. I have to start reading my books for next term so that I actually know what the teacher is talking about when we get started. The great part about being in my second year is knowing what is coming at me. I already know that I am going to get my butt kicked, that I will cry, that I will hit a slump around late March, and that I'll unconsciously clench my jaw from stress. Well, not really on the last part there...I finally cracked a molar from doing that this semester and now have awesome 20/20 hindsight about how wise it might have been to invest three dollars in one of those squeezy rubber balls or at least a mouth guard. But I probably would have looked pretty dorky....sitting still, reading, with a mouth guard in place. Yea, cracked teeth are better. Very sexy too, I might add. It's like I'm permanently establishing the fact that I am from the Four Corners region. At least I could move to the south and fit in relatively easy. Might not have the accent, but all I'd have to do is flash my broken pearly whites and folks would be like "oh, yea, you must be kinfolk of SueJo and Earl...say, you got that Jello salad recipe SueJo's always keepin from us?" Don't diss it. It's a good back up plan.
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