Un-Happy Halloween

Other people who are not you guys suck. They are just not as fun. I've been going on and on about how I wanted to have a party, but the varying schedules of the remnant (yes, that is what I am calling those who were left behind in CA) were not conducive to such an event. So, I decided to substitute with a family get together. I invited my younger cousins to come over in their costumes to carve pumpkins. I hunted for days to complete my pirate costume and spent countless hours scouring the net for pumpkin carving patterns. I also bought really cool monster candies for each of them and the good mini candybars. I woke up at 7am this morning (yes it is daylight savings) and began decorating so everyone would get into the spirit when they woke up/arrived. And would you believe those rotten kids? They didn't want to come in costume, them kept taking them off. They didn't want to carve pumpkins or get their hands dirty. They didn't want to watch Halloween movies, or listen to the Halloween CD Sonia and I worked on. They didn't even want ANY of the candy I bought. I ended up sitting outside carving my pumpkin by myself for an hour. I know they are only kids and that they are getting to the age where they aren't interested in hanging out with the family. But still, I put so much energy into this and my house looked really cute. Molly, you would be so proud of me. This was even better than when I had Halloween Koinonia in my room last year.
I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps I was being un-realistic. These kids only care about video games...Not about quality time or memories. They don't yet realize how special this time is and how they may regret it later. But what am I saying? Look at me! I'm the poster child for living vicariously through others! I was trying to use the kids to feel connected and recapture that holiday magic. I was trying to hand them the relationship that I crave. It was my needs I was trying to meet. All I really wanted was to be with you guys. These Poor kids. They are no match for you.

Penguin Sex and Community

So last night I went to the dollar theatre to watch March of the Penguins and left the theatre feeling like I make God so small. Did you know that every year all the penguins at the south pole walk 70 miles (with I'll have you know little more than pegs for legs... so awkward to watch.. they have to rotate their entire body to take a step inches in span) to a small patch of ice to mate. They call out to one another until somehow they find the right one and then they just stand there next to eachother and nestle beaks, beaming in the seldom experienced companionship (at first I was thinking this was actually how they mated but it was soon followed by this really strange slow-mo scene with the screen just looking like a black and white kolidoscope with indistinguishable bending forms.. and I realized it takes a little more than sitting next to one another to make a penguine baby) So then the momma makes ONE little egg and then gives it to the poppa to balance between his legs and keep warm for the next FOUR months, while she, now on the brink of starvation has to trudge back to the sea for food. The poppas all huddle together in -80 degree weather and go without food for these four months until the moms return and the egg finally hatches. They do it all in community.. together. But isn't that amazing! year after year they do that, being practically the only living creatures hanging on to that block of ice on the bottom of the earth.. and no one even sees it but the Lord. It made me wonder at all the other so-called insignificant things that the Lord must take such pleasure in, in this weird proud way. Some times I think my life fits into that category.
Nomes, i'm sorry you're singed. I'm sorry that was scary. Liz i'm sorry you're lonely. Mary, i'm sorry you hate work. I miss you all so much. I feel like penguins have so many things right . Like the importance of community... I wish we were all togther right now, and we could all huddle together while the cold confusing world just blew past. and we'd laugh and be comfortable.. not in denial that life and transition is hard, but just in agreement that it's all so much rosier when you're togther.

cheesy poem

twenty-one is much too old for
adolescent longing, -liking boys- is
something we left behind in
high school diaries, or college dorm-room chats, perhaps, but

forging on into adulthood, one should not
bother with such trifles, dreams of lips
and secret smiles, or understanding without
words. still,

I think you should ask me out because
I like you like ice cream, sticky-sweet
and innocent, giddy as a bubble clinging to the
side of the pepsi glass, poised to giggle my way
up to something new.

Liz and Mary said to blog this. Kind of gross, huh? I said giggle . . .

In other news, I made this new page, mainly for myself, but you all are welcome too . . . specialn.blogspot.com

I'll show you sexy....

...so sexy it hurts

Guess what just happened??

Okay, I'll just tell you, I'm at home, and I wanted to have a fire (to study by, it's cold and foggy outside, I thought it would be nice). so I turn on the gas automatic lighter thing, reach for a match, oops, it broke, light it again, there it is, reach into the fireplace and FOOM! a HUGE FIREBALL surrounds me. So I'm freaked out, pulling pieces of my singed hair off of my head, then the fire alarm starts going off, I try to get it to go off by fanning it until I realize the flew is most likely closed and the fire is still going, all the while freaking out about my hair and wondering if my eyebrows still exist. So I open some doors and jump in the shower to calm down and wash the burnt hair off of me. I know you are all wondering how ugly I am now, so I will tell you. My eyebrows actually look quite nice, they are a bit shorter, which is good, they needed the trimming. My eyelashes are shorter to, which sucks, they were never long to begin with. I probably would look like a freak had i not had glasses on. And I lost a lot of hair, but it's not too noticable. I'm still a bit shaken up though.

In other news, HENRY ALLSION teaches at UC Davis, and I might get to take a class on Kant with him!! Who is Henry Allison, you ask? Only the best Kant scholar ever. Actually, I would go as far as to say he is the best historical philosopher ever. I've never read a book on a philosopher better than his book on Kant. So I'm excited, the class is in the spring, of course I need permission from him to take it (it's a graduate phil course), and I hear he's an asshole, but still! Imagine if I get to! Mary I got your message, I will call you later. Peace.

I'm too sexy ...

...for Paris

In The Graveyard

A song, to the tune of "Oh my darling"

In the graveyard,
In the graveyard,
When the moon begins to shine,
There's a doctor, crazy doctor,
and his monster Frankenstein.

Oh, my monster,
Oh, my monster,
Oh, my monster Frankenstein,
you are very, very scary, don't come
near me Frankenstein.

I'm a flake

I'm not going in to work today. Called in and said I had a family emergency. A total lie. The truth is that I didn't finish my paper and didn't want to pull an all-nighter. Sleep is good. I am going to reward myself with a nice long nap when my paper is finished.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAY! I AM SO EXCITED YOU GUYS ARE HERE!!!! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY
To express my happiness, i wrote a song for you guys:
mollymollymollyMOLLY...MOLLY
molly.........molly....mollay....mollanna...annaannaannaAnna....ANNA
bmph..chickychickychickybmph...uhuh.
that's right. sing it in your sleep cause it's awesome, just like everyone being around.
iamsoexcited. for another reason too. somebody needs to call me back. well, everyone needs to call me back.

yes I am

You Are 76% American
You're as American as red meat and shooting ranges.
Tough and independent, you think big.
You love everything about the US, wrong or right.
And anyone who criticizes your home better not do it in front of you!

You guys have to give me a crash course on blogging. I have no idea what I'm doing, but apparently I am 76% American woo-hoo!

the nation: Are you American?

?where's moldo?

molly no esta aqui; ?porque no? yo quiero que molly escribe aqui con nosotros, ?si?
alguien se invita. ?porque ella no ya (joined)?

Vintage Alter Ego

Your 1920's Name is:

Bonita Maudie

What's" Your 1920's Name?

We are old, but still grow

'I totally bombed that test" is a funny phrase, I think, I mean, what if someone actually bombed a test, like with a bomb, if I ever make a movie that will be in it, that phrase and the actual bombing of the test.
Things I've learned in the past days: some things are not my fault, I love my sister Wendy (I suppose I knew this already), life is better when I carry healthy food around with me, I like Bible studies, sometimes I am a bad friend to people I love desperately, so loving them is sometimes not everything one should do (or perhaps I lovethem selfishly), I kick ass as a TA, that bitch in section one has no idea what she is talking about.
I will build a house for us in the sky where we all can live and teleport to our respective places of work, we will escape from the loneliness, it will be perfect, it will move where we wish it to move. I suppose the teleporting is the importantand difficult part, if we got that down we might not even need a house.

NEW FORMAT!!

Now the computer says something in french every day that you make a new post! AND the blog is PINK!!! There is nothign better.

I left my phone in napa

I'm pissed. I don't think I'll have it before I come down, which will make it hard to get in touch with people. Good thing everyone else has phones.
I can't do my homework. I'm out of energy. I'm on birth control and it makes me cry. I cried because I had to wait in line. Liz writes criticisms of my paper that are good. I don't think my paper is very good. Whether it is good or not, I'm reading it to a group of people in Seattle. I hope they are not too harsh. And I will try to make it better before then.
Matt is back together with his Ukrainian girlfriend. Just kidding. But he is most certainly in Ukraine. I dyed my hair black. What should I bring to the potluck? Orange juice and cranberry juice, cups I suppose. It is an all-girl potluck, which is nice.
Why I am a recluse: I don't have a phone, and no one here knows how interesting I am. (THERE IS MORE GOING ON IN MY MIND THAN PHYSICS AND EVERYDAY TASKS) I send it to them telepathically, but they still do not speak to me. Perhaps I should assume that they too are interesting and speak to them. C. S. Lewis says that if you want to have friends, you have to be a friend. That's cute.
I hope I will not have to do homework when I am spending time down there. I will try to get it done fast.
People here do their homework, then they write it up. I just do it once. I think that they are weird. I listen to better music than everyone. The hot-boy is friendly, like Biola-friendly. Maybe it's a socal thing, he is from there.

for the not-so-observant: a re-read.

so i deleted all of this because it's not something pleasant you want to read everytime you return to the nation. plus it's totally irrelevant and i just wanted to vent; it was more something you send in an email that you know will be deleted promptly. it's something you would send to naomi: if you want it thrown away, give it to her because she is not, and i repeat, is NOT sentimental about useless, crappy things, like complaining.
but here's something you CAN'T delete: the fact that i am PISSED that neither of you have been around all week. somehow everyone forgets that i have nothing to do, and so simply stop showering me with affection. so, i wrote you a little story (please forgive the cliche setting, or the potentially dull plot, i'm writing on the spot; perhaps i ought to change that to "i'm writing you a little story"):
there once was a little girl who went romping through the forest because her parents only let her out for school and they had, absentmindedly, gone on a ride on one of the new kitemobiles--something we might call an early version of the airplane--and had forgotten her while she was hiding under her bed from the portrait of her dead and buck-toothed greatgreatgreatgreat grandmother, newly placed on her wall by the half-blind maid who, luckily was in such a predicament at this point because otherwise she would've been scared out of her hair by such a ghastly sight and fallen down dead immediately upon viewing it. the little child barely escaped her room by...well, that's beside the point.
she went romping through the forest and met a monkey who had left his family to live in this tree, this specific tree because it was magical: it gave him all he needed to live off of every day and defied all natural laws of physics. he had come to study it. he invited the little girl into his tree and so she began to try to climb it. but it was too hard because the trunk was slick and straight and too many times she fell on her butt from the tree that it was obviously hopeless for her to try to make it up herself. so she called to the monkey, but he had become so involved in his studies of the tree that he didn't even hear her as he was talking to himself and sporadically yelling, "eureka!" and then nearly laughing himself out of the tree. so the little girl moved on because she saw that staying with the monkey would probably not be her most beneficial choice, since the tree only magically supported one monkey at a time anyway.
a little farther on she met an elephant. the elephant told her that he and his family had always lived in this forest in the same spot and that it was so wonderful he didn't think he could ever leave. the elephant began telling the little girl all about the wonders of the great forest and welcomed her into his family. the little girl was so delighted and began to settle in with the elephants. but soon the little ones began to trample the earth and scutter around uncontrollably so that the elephant friend had to tend to the family. the little girl was afraid she, herself, would be trampled by the elephants and her elephant friend was too busy with its family to pay attention to her.
so the little girl wandered on farther into the jungle until it began to get dark, and she thought, "you know, maybe the jungle isn't a good place for a little girl at night." so she ventured back home to her parents' house, just in time to get back before they ever knew she was gone.

now, this story is very symbolic. who can guess who is who in the story?
i am the little girl, AND NEITHER OF YOU ARE THE ANIMALS BECAUSE NEITHER OF YOU ARE IN IT. the little girl's friends apparently moved to france and forgot how to speak their nation's native language, so they couldn't talk to her anymore. YOU ARE THE LITTLE GIRL'S FRIENDS. how does that make you feel?

the end.

My life is over

I had the shock of my life this morning. I was minding my own business washing and moisturizing my face when I look up in the mirror to see if I am going to break out because I was waxed yesterday. Than something catches my eye... Is my hair that greasy that it shines that way? No, wait. What's this? A hair? But not just any hair ... A WHITE hair! This sucker is in the middle of my head, right where I part my hair and is like 4 inches long. Who knows how long it has been there, but surely the thickness of my hair has concealed it for quite some time. I was so shocked that I didn't know whether to cry or to laugh. I'm not even married with kids yet! This is the beginning of the end. I'm 22 years old. Goodbye youth. Goodbye livelihood. Hello to life as an old maid.

Listening Skills

I wanted to send you guys this link to take these self evaluations, but I have not yet successfully been able to take one myself. I guess, I'll post is anyway and if either of you has any luck, let me know.

why i'm a recluse

i am, hands down, the worst friend ever. particularly to nomes. so here i am publicly apologizing for my poor friendsmanship. (isn't that part of atoning for our sins?) i'm sorry. you didn't write me back for three days and i felt like you were breaking up with me, and now i just feel like a bad person. AHH! i wish i could clone myself! i am pro-cloning now; this way we can avoid feelings of guilt over leaving our best friends stranded on deserted islands. brilliant. (please note: those exclamation points do not take away from my guilty feelings.)

do you like poetry, mary? i've decided you should read it some.